'These are not my people, I should never have come here…'

                                                                                                'Factory' - Martha Wainwright

Well, charming as Ireland is, I've had enough.

More than enough.

The myths are pretty but reality just keeps getting in the way.

Those low crime-rates are rising fast.

The happy, friendly people are noticeably less happy these days, most of them trying to hang onto their jobs and praying the interest rates don't take another hike. 
The image of clean unspoilt countryside is getting rather tarnished with sewage still being discharged straight into the sea from several coastal towns and the water in Galway still being unsafe to drink. A problem not confined to Galway.
Tara is being sacrificed to a new road, and despite almost constant 'improvements' on our main highways, it now takes longer to drive from Dublin to Wexford than it did 10 years ago.

Not that any of this has prompted my sudden desire to leave the country. At this stage, (16 years) that's all just background noise.

No, I'm just tired.

I got a letter from the department of Education this afternoon refusing to pay me the rate for a qualified worker for  work I did last year because according to them, I have admitted that I do not have a basic standard of education. 
Well, that's not exactly what I said. What I told the gentleman from the department was that I do not have a Junior Cert (taken at 16) in the Irish language.

No, I merely have a good degree, qualified teacher status in two European countries including this one, and 12 years teaching experience. Plus basic French and German.

And it wasn't even a teaching job, just minding someone with a disability during the lunch breaks work I actually had some trouble getting because I was percieved as being over-qualified by the recruiting headmaster. 

I'll fight the decision, of course. That's all I seem to do these days, tilt at the bureaucratic windmills; I've even brought a couple down, though I'm not exactly delighted with my victories. 
It's hard to see the point right now. I don't have a job and I see no chance of getting a decent one. #2Son is actually making more money at his vacation job working as a hotel porter.

Last year, I was advised to sign on the dole because I'd have been better off than I was working. At this point, I'm seriously considering it though I will of course lose any claim to the moral high-ground and may have to give up ranting about the lazy S.O.B. I had the misfortune to marry, because then I'll be doing what he's doing, sitting on my backside and holding my hand out.

That's what I hate most about this country, the way it saps your energy, the will to make things better for yourself. The way it encourages you to give up and go quietly under.

I am not going quietly.            

Meanwhile, if anybody wishes to purchase an idyllic rural retreat in the sunny southeast of Ireland I'd be delighted to talk to you. It's not only a historic building but also a wonderful investment opportunity. 
If you can afford to live here, and the general nuttiness of Irish Bureauocracy strikes you as charming and quaint rather than racist or malicious, then I think you'd find it absolutely lovely.

Here's looking forward to the great escape.

So, three and a bit months later what's new?

Writers' group is in summer recess. Or to put it another way, it succumbed to apathy and people stopped coming to the meetings. I may try and start it up again in September.

My shoulder problem turns out to have been caused by Belly-dance and as it is a tendon injury is proving very stubborn and slow to heal.

I got my first foriegn holiday in three years. I went off to Bilbao in Northern Spain for four days with a friend and it was ok. 
Funny how hard it can be to get on with someone on holiday, even when you've known them for years. I felt so frustrated with her by the end, though to be honest, I think she was feeling the strain, too. She was certainly keen to get to the airport. We spent six hours in Bilbao Airport waiting for our flight to back Dublin! Six hours! And the sun was shining and we were in Spain and, and.... *sobs*
However, we're still speaking and I'm glad I went.

No job so far and I'm having a bit of trouble sleeping, probably due to subconsciously worrying about the 'future'. 
You'd think I'd have more sense, wouldn't you?

I've started writing again.
I've started writing a story that has been with me for nearly two years, actually it may be longer.
I'm at just at that stage where I'm almost shying away from it in case it disappears.
If you're in the habit of lighting fires you might know what I mean. Put them in a stove or a grate and you would be amazed how reluctant normally flammable materials can be to catch and burn. Getting them to catch is just the start of your problems, too little kindling and the flames quickly die, too much fuel and the fire is smothered. It's a delicate process.
And so with writing. 

I tried telling myself 'writer's block' was just lazyness or self-indulgence, that worked up to a point. 
I attended a workshop and lost my nerve completely, big mistake. No place for the weak.
I tried  writing my way through it, and yes, that did give me plenty of material and a couple of unrelated short-stories but nothing started to come together until now. 
I have a new character, a different point of view and most important I have a flame, a small one. 
I can't tell you how good that feels.
I'm just off to tend it.