andcurve.weblog - The weblog of Kevin Teljeur. Somewhere within all the noise, there is a note you need to hear.

I had an odd and perhaps controversial idea pop into my head not so long ago. It was when I was visiting the Jennifer, in fact, and we were walking around Kilkenny town trying to spend my money on making me look fashionable (as opposed to looking very much like someone who had only just discovered the idea of clothes the week before), although that had (and has) no relation to the idea itself. The really controversial part of it all is actually airing the idea publicly, where people can see the idea, and have an opinion about it, which will no doubt be along the lines of a) Kevin is up to something, he’s got something going on and he’s not telling us or b) Kevin is completely mad, or maybe even c) Kevin is up to something, which is hardly surprising given that he is completely mad.

I think I might get married this year. Or have kids. Not both, of course, that would be ridiculous.

I have no idea to whom or where, the point is in fact that it’ll be completely unexpected and bizarre, it’ll all happen very suddenly and come as a shock to everyone, myself included. It could be, for example, to a Yak herder in Tadjikistan. Now, I know this might seem very off the wall to most people, and raise eyebrows with one or two people in particular, but there it is. It’s not a plan, it’s a statement of possibility.

2007 sees me buying a house. That’s not bizarre or adventurous (in fact it’s tedious and predictable, not unlike a Garfield cartoon), that’s just the way it’s going right now. Better sort out my job situation in that case, hadn’t I?

I’m feeling pretty vacant at the moment. There was quite a lot I’d hoped to get done this weekend, including writing more stuff for this site, but… Well, last week took it out of me, I guess, topped off by a fun but grueling game of footie on Friday night. It was the first of the season so, as you can imagine, everyone was carrying around a lot of spare tyre and the like, but I really did seem to come off the worst of the lot, ambling around on the pitch as if I’d eaten more or been locked in for the whole week and half of Christmas, force fed on Stollen. As usual I started powering up later on in the game and running more, just as everyone else was winding down; I’ve started to see that if I started my warm up 30 minutes before the game instead of 10 minutes into it, then I might get more out of the game itself. I have common sense and Annette to thank for that observation, and I’ll start next Friday with this clever new approach. And eating less.

After the game I called to Garret and Nora, where Ian Cuthbertson and Aoife were tucking into some incredibly old cheese, and I was kidnapped. Ian is basically the human manifestation on Earth of Satan himself, with a liberal helping of Mr Spock. If you don’t believe me, meet the guy, and you will see in his eyes the uneasy alliance between calm logic and the eternal damnation of all mankind, being transported to his ultimate end by drink driving. That might he was trying to achieve it by mixing Kahlua and sour milk, which we were having none of, in spite of his insistence that there was nothing wrong with it, but it really did look like a bad idea. I mean, had I been in Ulaanbaatar then I suppose I might accept that as being something of the local culture and try it, but… It was Garret and Nora’s sitting room, so no. Spockbertson, drink it yourself. The kidnapping amounted to Garret hiding my shoes so that I couldn’t go home. That was ok, they have a nice futon, and it meant I could play a good prank on Garret in the morning. Heh heh…

Saturday would have been a shoe-in for the most apathetic day ever, but luckily I agreed to go out and catch up with Caroline (and John and various people from his house too – John, Lena, Coll, Anna, and Anna’s infeasibly large bosom) so that went on until the early hours. The ‘two in, one out’ drinking rule is back, which is good; basically, I drink no more than one pint if I’m drinking in a bar, and no more than two if I’m in, for example, someone’s house. Really, it does work.

Today I cycled in the Phoenix park. You know, it really is very big, it’s easier than you might think to get lost or disorientated in there. Maybe they could have a new series on RTE called ‘Disorientated’, where a bunch of people from all over Ireland get stuck in the middle of the Phoenix park, and have to fight for survival…

I chatted to Tee for a bit on Friday, and we’ve had the odd internet chat too. It was great, but I really do miss her. It’s hard, but of course it could be a lot worse and ultimately we’re both happy with what we’re doing which was always the point. Check the site out, she and the girls put up lots of photos recently and they’re worth seeing.

On the subject of ‘happy with what I’m doing, generally’, I’m actually not really. Or am I? Hmm… I have a clearer shape to the 2006 Plan For The Year, which is a lot like the plan for 2004, and 2005. I’d better just do those things or I’ll find that the plan for 2009 still looks like the plan for 2004. I’d better stop being apathetic and get moving before I find that my zimmer frame has seized up…

Today was my first day back at work in 2006, and I proudly joined the aggressive cunts going to work. In fact, I was one of them, cursing the slowness and inefficiency of the fools in front of me. Had one of them keeled over, dead from exhaustion, I would have gladly stepped over his or her cooling corpse in order to get ahead in the crowd, and get to the office that precious 3 minutes earlier.

Yeah, that’s my New Year’s sermon. It’s all about the benjamins, and fucking over some bastard that gets in my way as I climb to the top. I’m putting together my 2006 Plan, and I don’t look forward to the part where I have to think ahead to the next 5 years too, because that’s something I’ll have to do in the next month or two. I’m not getting any younger, and I need to start thinking about what’s next. You can tell I’ve been talking to thirty-something year-old women, can’t you? But it’s true, I have to. I have to think hard about my work situation, and where that’s going, and also about what I’m going to go and do later in the year. Japan and Romania both beckon this year, I’m going to have paid off all my debts quite shortly and be that rare thing in Ireland today, a thirty-something male with no debts (well, none to the bank; I’m sure I owe something to someone.) and in a number of ways free to do whatever the fuck I want.

On the bright side, I went for a run in the morning. I can start my 2006 plan by cutting a few inches off my tubby waistline. And pricing some language learning stuff for Japanese, Czech and Romanian.

More on all of this later, I have to tie up some loose ends, get some shit done and then I can do my 2005 round-up and my 2006 plan. And my thoughts on the first of the political parties here to try banking on xenophobia to win the next election. The Labour party as Brown Shirts? Oh no! There is much to be done and so little time…

La Multi Ani!

Happy New Year! Best wishes for 2006 to all my readers and everyone else generally, I hope you achieve your desires for the year and that you have good health and happiness. That title is ‘Happy New Year’ (or something equivalent) in Romanian. Yes, last year’s phrase was in Czech and this year’s is Romanian, so who knows what next year’s will be. That is one thing I’ve already decided this year, which is that next year I’ll celebrate New Year’s in a country I haven’t been to yet. You heard it here first (unless I drunkenly blurted it out to you last night).

I spent New Year’s with Vlad and Diana and several of their friends (Aude, Bonsa and Alina, with our genial, camper-than-Liberace host ‘Cusin’ and his housemate), and it was a good night. Certainly a change from last year’s well intended but ultimately traumatic snot-fest in the darkest reaches of the Czech Republic, in a willage somewhere with Pavel, Tanya and some friends of Pavel’s. I had a bad cold which was just that night reaching a crescendo of personal humiliation, but luckily it didn’t set a trend for the year. Actually, I tell a lie because a few weeks later I got a moderately serious infection, which convinced me of the security of fulltime employment.

I stayed in Vlad and Diana’s place, which was very entertaining the day after.

I promised a round-up of 2005, a set of photos and I also want to use this blog to do my annual ‘mission statement‘ (sort of a collection of life-improvement resolutions, which I usually package with some sort of catchy and dynamic-sounding phrase. It’s personal marketing.), but it can wait a day I suspect. It’s nothing urgent.

I started a series of posts recently, roughly every week or so, and then stuff came up and then something else happened, and then poo, the post was rendered essentially useless and I had to start again. The few remaining regular followers of my site, which include Tee and Tony, occasionally Kenny and Sean, and sometimes Fergal and a couple of Parallel customers (allegedly, but I hope so; more on this shortly) have no doubt been thinking that this is one of the less persuasive reasons to fire up a web browser, though my outburst of 11 November seems to have gone down very well as a piece of entertainment.

I was going to do my posts during my recent trip to England, but I didn’t have quite enough time (as you’ll see, that’s kind of surprising but that’s how it happened) and then after that I was all tied up until now, at the end of my week off…

Weeks of not posting, an absolute sin in terms of maintaining an audience which as I explained in a previous post is very important indeed, according to dogmatic self-appointed Danish web experts. Though as my previous post demonstrated, I have an audience which hovers in at around two so stuff like audience numbers is a moot point. Anyway, there’s been a lot on, and over the next day or two there will be many, many photos and all sorts of odds and ends. I’ll probably break them down into individual posts.

A bit of a recap: Two weeks ago Rik the Belgian came over, and although he spent a lot of that two weeks roaming around the country, we had a lot of fun in Dublin and it was great to see him again. During that time, I went to Tee’s brother’s wedding party,
The traditional pulling off of the garter with the teeth. I don’t think this was their first time…
That’s Tee’s (and Joseph and Derrick and Michelle’s) Oul’ Fella in the foreground
Michelle and Laura, Tee’s sister and best mate respectively. Dangerous women for sure.

Dmitry and Alex’s party,
Sarka, Tanya, Rik and Ciaran; aren’t we cosy?
Dmitry is concerned we’re not drinking enough, while Rik realises he is actually very drunk. Again.
Me, Ciaran and Sarka celebrating Sarka’s theft of Ciaran’s beer

I got myself a room in Los Blancheles (that’s Blanchardstown; I won’t say it again), hung out with Rik,
Rik tasting Guinness; this is his ‘appreciation’ face

went through childhood ephemera with my brother, more parties, a vast improvement in my footie skills, my mother bought a house (with cash! What a turnaround.), I visited the Jennifer,
Jen and Tristan having a wrestle; that kid is strong!

I had a big adventure in England, I walked to Maynooth,
Garret The Troll surveys the journey ahead. There is still far to go.

there was a great party to help poor Pakistanis,
Ibiza Uncovered. In Owen’s house. Notice the pride of Pakistan at the top…

and I painted my mother’s house.
Haarrrgh! The roller!

Friday morning two weeks ago I got to experience the Calcutta Express, which is the train from Maynooth to Pearse.
Waiting for the Calcutta Express at Castleknock station. Sitting on the roof will be harder when they electrify the line out here.
Not many people know or even believe that Los Blancheles has a train station although it is cunningly named ‘Castleknock’, and I’ve discovered that people in Dublin know surprisingly little about the greater Dublin rail network, or at least what’s left of it (it’s a fact that as soon as the English were out of Ireland, the Irish ripped up the bulk of the rail network and replaced it with shoddy roads and poor public transport. Fucking idiots.). The line through Los Blancheles is known as the Calcutta Express simply because it’s generally completely packed solid during rush hour, standing room only, and to make matters worse it has to wait for a random period of time just before Connolly station (and sometimes at other points on the line) because it plays second fiddle to the coastal line.

Potentially a great service, unfortunately run by an Irish state company (yeah, underfunded, I know, but money doesn’t organise timetables or explain to people why the train has stopped apparently at random. Diligence does that.).

We had a company lunch on Friday too, which is always an odd experience
Having an interesting lunch. That is Lyner on my right.
I mean, it was great that Tom took us out to the Indian, the food was good albeit minimal, but having a regimented lunch with most of the work crew in a semi-structured environment tends to feel like… work. It was reasonably good food though, and relaxed enough.

After a hard and fast game of footie I had a hard and fast game sprint to Kilkenny to visit Jennie and her remarkably fast growing kid. Originally the idea was to stay for most of the weekend but for various reasons (not least, having spent very little time in my new home so far and having to get a number of things done, as well as the ongoing crusade to weed out uneccessary old stuff from my childhood memories since my mother is moving and wishes things to be ‘sorted’) I ended up staying just Friday and heading back on Saturday evening which was probably better for everyone… Jesus, her young fella has grown! I hadn’t seen Jennie and her kid since well before I started going out with Tee (which comes close to putting exact dates on it all) so the last time he was exactly a year old. Now he’s 18 months, walking, talking, making lifestyle choices, negotiating his next mortgage and figuring out how to steal my job… Crazy stuff, and reminds me that time is passing; I’m not getting any younger. 33 next March!

So there’s Tristan:
Tristan sizes me up. He reckons he could take me.
And the Jennifer:
Poor Jennifer is all played out. She needs a rest.
And we can combine them:
Now they’re both all played out!
And then we can remove Jennifer, and add Mikey and Jane:
Mikey (Jen’s brother) and Jane, his wumon, with Tristan
For those who routinely make the same jokes (and you know who you are), I was in Australia at the time. So go fuck yourselves, it’s not funny anymore.

Kilkenny is great place even if it’s expanding like there’s no tomorrow. There’s a great clothes shop called ‘Praha’ which has a logo in the colours of the Czech flag. Actually, it just sells the same stuff as everywhere else, I guess the proprietors must be Czech.

I got my duvet on Sunday morning, after an overlong and tortuous trip to the Los Blancheles Shopping District, where you can buy just about anything that it is possible to buy, and get caught in 10 kilometre tailbacks with your SUV on the way home. Shopping, ‘they’ say, is the new religion here in Ireland and everyone was at worship that morning, flinging their cards and cash about with abandon. A lot of these people have high mortgages too, or other debts, it’s pretty frightening to shop for a pastime under those circumstances.

The entrance to Los Blancheles Retail Park. You park, and then you retail. Shop til you drop from sheer irritation.

Me? I just needed a good warm duvet with feathers pulled from a real duck.