By Grainne

Gale force winds this week failed to disperse the feelgood factor left in the wake of the momentous visit of President Obama.  People already jubilant over the success of the Queen’s visit a few days before went into paroxysm of glee over his whistle-stop tour.  He hugged people!  He laughed!  He kissed babies!  He gave a long speech without looking at any notes!  He told us, as Gaelige, “we can do it!”  Heady stuff.

                                                 The big difference between his visit and the Queen’s was that members of the public were actually allowed to meet him.  That he went way over and above what was expected of him in meeting and greeting left people ecstatic.

Less impressed appeared some of the people invited onto the podium behind him at College Green where their positioning guaranteed them television camera coverage.  Time was when people accorded respect to those in high office by dressing up to meet them.  Some of the people on that podium last Monday seemed to have made a virtue out of under dressing for the occasion.  I saw jeans, cargo pants, polo shirts, body warmers and wasn’t impressed.  Why be there at all if they harboured an attitude that the office of the President of the United States didn’t deserve a show of respect?  Or has our knowledge of etiquette, nay simple manners, declined to the point that we no longer know how to dress, and act, in such circumstances?

Another example was the three blonde women on the podium who had sunglasses on.  They didn’t take them off when greeting the President and shaking his hand.  That’s considered a breach of etiquette. Or, in my book, ignorant behaviour.

There was also an awful lot of texting going on during the President’s speech by some on the podium.  Taking pictures with camera phones is one thing, it’d have been a strong temptation to resist recording the historic moment.  It could and should have been far done less, and much more discreetly though.

The thousands who thronged streets to see the President in Moneygall and Dublin were well behaved and good mannered, thrilled when rewarded for their long wait by a greeting or a handshake.  It’s a pity the same couldn’t be said of some of those on the podium for the speech that day.

By Aine

Last January I flew back from Auckland, New Zealand to Dublin via Singapore and London.

The connecting flights and trip home were largely uneventful. Until we got to Dublin that was. We arrived into our brand spanking new Terminal 2 at Dublin airport shortly before 9am on a Wednesday morning.

We couldn’t get off the plane.  

After a few minutes a member of the Aer Lingus cabin crew staff informed us that there was a problem getting a walkway to the plane to allow us to disembark. It turned out to be a long wait. 25 minutes to be exact.

We could see the pristine new terminal from the plane, we just couldn’t get to it. I couldn’t understand it.

Was our plane not expected?

Did we catch them off guard?

Did the person in charge of such things not show up for work that morning?

Many of the passengers on board were business people travelling from Heathrow and were annoyed at the delay. We, on the other hand, had travelled half way across the world, were weary and just wanted to get home.

When you consider the millions spent on this state-of-the-art terminal, its ironic that something as simple as a set of stairs for passengers should cause a problem.

Eventually the walkway appeared and we got to disembark.

Last night I was at Dublin airport Terminal 2 again, to collect my son. I arrived at the airport shortly after the plane landed.

I waited and waited and waited.

Eventually I got a text message from him to inform me that they had not disembarked because there was no walkway available. Deja vu! Some four and a half months later it would seem that Terminal 2 hasn’t sorted the problem.

I would have thought that a little matter of getting people off planes would’ve been considered a priority. Not at Dublin airport it would seem. The budget for Terminal 2’s fixtures and fittings mustn’t have extended to walkways to assist passengers in disembarking. Next time the walkways fail to appear and people are stranded on the plane perhaps the cabin crew could deploy the emergency slides and people could pop down the chutes and onto the tarmac without delay.

Get your act together DAA.

by Grainne

I found the two recent Bank Holidays disconcerting, to say the least.  I didn’t know what to do with myself.  Not because there were two in a row, a happy event I’d normally have relished.  The fact is they were no novelty because I recently joined the ranks of the unemployed.  Bank Holidays don’t have a lot of merit when you don’t have to get up out of bed and go to work the rest of the week either.

I think some cognizance needs to be taken of this, something awarded to those of us without jobs in return for the loss of a day off.  A sort of consolation prize.   But how to make reparation for our devalued time off?  What would be fitting redress for one whole (and steadily growing) sector of the country being unfairly deprived of something so pleasurable? 

The working public might cry foul, it’s true, at the notion of those with limitless time off being compensated for the loss of pleasure of a day off from work but they ought not be too churlish about it.  After all the swelling ranks of the unemployed are freeing up usually crowded motorways, beaches, parks and other amenities, garden centres and shopping malls and other places people normally gravitate to on Bank Holidays, leaving them comfortably spacious for the luckily still employed who can actually afford to go.   Think of the great public service we’re performing!

And yes, I know, beaches and parks are still free, though no doubt there’s some Government department looking into the feasibility of taxing them as we speak , and if they do calling it a ‘Natural Resources Service Levy’ or some such.  The reality for the jobless though is that the petrol to get there has never been dearer and factoring in the cost of the usual family outing treats can put them beyond reach.   If you don’t believe me check out what they’re charging for a 99 these days.

          If action is taken now, we could have something in place in time for the June Bank Holiday weekend.  At least then when I, and others in the same position as me, hear the usual AA Roadwatch warnings of tailbacks and congestion on motorways as the people who can afford to decamp to the pleasure spots are hightailing it out of town, we won’t feel so hard done by.  We can listen more cheerfully while they are subjected to the usual admonishments to slow down, fasten their seatbelts and used dipped headlights when needed in the knowledge that there’s something for us too.  A return-to-work-for-a-day day maybe?   A day’s worth of training at anything we’d like some training in?  Or just a day when everything’s free?

With the country in hock and prospects bleaker than Sean Gallagher’s bid at the presidency, it’s unlikely we’ll win any concessions.  Our luck the only offer they’ll come up with is time off in lieu.

by Aine

I was nonplussed last Saturday morning to find that I’d been accused of killing the late model Katy French.  Saturday morning’s Irish Independent thought me complicit anyway.  Along with the general public.  Their headline:’Katy’s death: it’s our fault.’  

How did Anne Sexton, the writer of the piece,that ran to three pages in the Weekend magazine of the paper, come to this conclusion?

The article, titled ‘People vs Katy French’ stated that we’d “ridiculed her insatiable appetite for fame and its vulgar trappings and moralised about her sordid end. ”  But, asked Anne Sexton, “did our hatred of the 24 year old wannabe starlet say more about us than it did about her?”

Hatred is a very strong word and I for one didn’t hate Katy French.  In so far as she ever registered on my radar, I knew only that her photograph featured a lot in national newspapers and magazines and her life was cut short age at the age of 24 due to brain damage believed to have been brought on by cocaine abuse.

I had no great interest in her one way or another but then I (like many others I suspect) have no great interest in the whole show business/modelling world which seems shallow and superficial and I couldn’t care less who models are dating or what night clubs they frequent. Every body is entitled to a private life regardless of their occupation.

Anne Sexton goes further when she asks the question “Why did we resent her fame so much? ” Again maybe some, who were interested in her affairs, did, but I was far too indifferent to feel so strongly.

I daresay the piece was deliberately provocative as the conclusion reached cannot be supported.  It was, after all, the media that courted Katy French and, after building her up they seem to have moved very quickly to smash her from the pedestal they’d created.

The author of the piece is actually quite harsh on the young model in this article, choosing to revisit all her quotes and her exploits in the years prior to her death, raking over old stuff that her family would no doubt like to be left alone.

Katy French is dead, and the truth is she had nobody to blame but herself. Nobody made her take drugs She chose her lifestyle. She was an adult, 24 years old. She was the darling of the media. She sought and gained attention and seemed to revel in it.

Like so many celebrities before her she paid a high price for her mistakes.

So stop trying to apportion blame Ms. Sexton, let her rest, let her family remember her as a much loved daughter and sister, let that much be salvaged from her sorry, sordid ending. Oh yeah and, just in case you decide to do another article,  I didn’t contribute to Gerry Ryan’s demise either.