HANDS OFF MY AIRLINE

What is this nonsense about Ryanair possibly going to buy Aer Lingus?  Ryanair – that cheeky upstart of an airline, which I accept was almost entirely responsible for making flying affordable for us Irish, stranded as we are on this rocky, green, damp island on the western edge of Europe.  But take over Aer Lingus... that august and proud airline, that erstwhile symbol of national pride, I bloody well hope not!

I am resisting the temptation to rant on about why I really hate flying Ryanair.  I will not describe the nervous heap they reduce me to while I stand for hours in a queue at a gate which manages to be on the far side of the airfield from the terminal, wearing too many clothes so that my hand luggage weighs less that my handbag normally does.  I will refrain from pouring scorn on the sweaty leather seats and the garish blue and yellow interior of their aircraft.  But the blaring of a fanfare when we arrive on time is a step too far and really is an appalling way to treat customers.

Oh no, give me Aer Lingus any day.  I think Aer Lingus like me and are happy to have me onboard.  Ryanair seem to be out to get me and they definitely don’t like me much, a fact that could be due to the perspiration on my forehead I guess.

Aer Lingus and I have a long shared history.  In the 1960’s my father worked in Customs and Excise (as it was called then) and occasionally on weekends I accompanied him to Dublin Airport at Collinstown.  The original terminal building with its feminine curving lines was as beautiful inside as out.  I can still see its large, airy and bright main hall dominated, if my memory serves me correctly, by a huge wall clock.  The airport was a portal to exotic and wondrous foreign shores and adventure.  The tingle of anticipation was heightened by the whiff of jet fuel from the nearby apron.  To a little girl Dublin Airport was somewhere very special indeed.

In 1971, I was nine years old when Aer Lingus took delivery of its first 747 Jumbo Jet.  I remember standing in our back garden in Blackrock watching as this huge aircraft passed overhead.  This kind of flypast became a bit of a habit for Aer Lingus 747s; they did it again in 1979, a low pass over the city of the Papal flight, although this time the Jumbo Jet was  flanked on each wing by two Air Corps aircraft.  Being a cool teenager I took great delight in having no interest whatsoever in the Pope’s visit.  However I did feel a certain pride when I realised that his arrival on our national carrier was the first time a Pope had ever travelled on an airline other than Alitalia.

As a child of the 70s, Aer Lingus was one of the very first things that made me proud to be Irish.  This little country, which was seriously lacking in pizzazz or excitement, had an airline which was deemed to be as good as any on the planet, at a time when air travel was the ultimate in glamorous living.  Sure hadn’t it got an office on 5th Ave in New York to prove it?  Aer Lingus symbolised an Ireland that was beginning to believe in itself.  

Perhaps it was in part my early exposure to the charms of both the Airport and the airline that led me to a job in the travel business.  I joined the JWT set and in the early 80s spent one winter working as a Holiday Rep in Gran Canaria.  At that time the bulk of the Irish holidaymakers arrived on the island on a chartered Aer Lingus 747, which delivered to us a staggering 470 passengers.  This caused some logistical problems on the ground as it meant that all Irish holiday companies had arrivals and departures on the same day and at the same time.  As Reps we had to book our coaches well in advance or our clients would be left making the transfer in some old bone shaker of a rickety vehicle which normally functioned as a school bus.

During the ‘90s my love life was complicated.  My boyfriend lived in London and so we spent every second weekend commuting back and forwards across the Irish Sea – always with Aer Lingus.  There were more than a few occasions when I arrived a bit ahead of schedule at Gatwick and used to ask at check-in if I might change to the earlier flight.  Invariably the nice Aer Lingus people would tell me to go ahead to the gate with my bag and if they could, they certainly would put me on the first flight available.  It usually worked and no one ever had the audacity to ask me for payment.

My experiences with Aer Lingus have always been positive.  My travel memories are interspersed with those hours of waiting at various airports for my flight back to Dublin.  Tired, tanned and tetchy at the end of a holiday, that first sight of the familiar green and blue livery descending from the sky was always a surprising source of national pride.  I am not ashamed to admit that I still feel that way today.  And does anyone else fondly remember the aroma of Irish Breakfast that used to waft through the cabin on an early morning flight home....  sure we were home before we ever left the ground!

I admit I seem to have a slightly irrational and very emotional attachment to our national carrier... but I doubt that I am alone.  Aer Lingus is our airline.  And it is still one of the safest and best airlines in the world.  So who’s going to tell the Troika we ain’t selling it?

IRISH FANS REMIND US THAT IT'S ALL ABOUT DANCING IN THE RAIN

So, Euro2012 wasn’t quite an Italia90!

Back in 1990 things just kept getting better as our national soccer team led the entire country on a magical journey all the way to the semi finals where if I am not mistaken we were finally beaten by Italy.  It was a special time when you could almost feel ‘Ireland Inc’ (sorry – I hate that expression too) beginning to develop a self confidence and a realisation that we were as good as any other nation on earth.

Bear in mind that this football odyssey came just two short two years after Houghton put the ball in the England net in Stuttgart and five years after Live Aid.  I know we didn’t play football at Live Aid, but it was another iconic event which led many of us who watched it, to realise that U2 were well on their way to becoming the biggest rock band in the world and that  Bob Geldof was a force of nature to be reckoned with.  I remember noticing Irish flags near the stage and the slow dawning realisation that perhaps we not only could breed great leaders and musicians but maybe Ireland was also cool. Italia90 confirmed all of these possibilities.

But added to this burgeoning confidence were the army of fans (Jack’s Army in 1990) who travelled to Italy to support the team.  Sky News was a new 24hour news station in 1990 and I remember their reporters in Rome for the semi finals interviewing Irish fans who were there for ‘the craic’ and who couldn’t believe our good fortune in getting all the way to the quarter finals.  Their delight and pure joy in the experience was palpable and catching and a revelation to the British reporters who were more used to football fans being hooligans.  Back in 1990 we were proud of the team, of honourary Irishman Jack Charlton and of the brilliant supporters.  It was all damn near perfect!

So here we are 22 years later (can you believe it is that long ago?) and the Irish soccer team are back at a big international tournament and again we are being managed by a foreigner... this time Italian Giovanni Trapattoni.  The fans mobilised by air and by land and headed east to Poland, a country with whom we now have strong links after our Celtic Tiger economy attracted so many of their countrymen and women to our shores to work.  Expectations were high.  Alas, as we all know, things have not panned out the way we might have hoped.  In football terms the whole thing has been a disaster.

In 1990 Ireland was on the brink of conceiving her Celtic Tiger and we were all feeling good about ourselves.  Now, in 2012 we are very much a broken country, traumatised by the collapse of our economy and giving away of our sovereignty and many of us trying to come to terms with crippling personal debt.  There is a horrible feeling that we have lost control of our lives and indeed to a large extent we have.

To a lesser country the dismal football performances would have added to this feeling of depression and self loathing.  Our having the ignominious glory of being the first team out of the tournament could serve to reaffirm our belief that we are as capable of playing football as we are in managing our economy.  To a lesser country at the very least this would have led to an army of supporters coming home down and depressed and thoroughly fed up.  Like those of us who feel we have no control over our lives as we struggle through this quagmire of financial disaster, our supporters might rightly have felt that no matter how much they sang they couldn’t seem to influence things on the field.

But the one thing we always have control over (listen up now - this is important) is our attitude to disaster.  We are the only ones who can decide how we face each day.  We can do so depressed and fed up or we can make a concerted and deliberate effort to greet the day with a smile and a spirit of optimism.  It’s not easy in the face of all the huge financial problems we have... but it can be done.  And if there is one thing we should take from Euro 2012 it is just that.  We Irish have been gifted a great sense of humour.  We love a party.  We invented the craic.  Don’t underestimate how a precious these gifts are.

How many countries with far superior soccer teams to ours would love to have our supporters?  Our army of madly dressed men and women, who had the longest journey to make to Poland, but arrived in their thousands – many in converted ice cream vans and ambulances and clapped out vehicles.  They knew they were backing one of the weakest teams in the tournament but they were determined to bring good humour which they showcased beautifully with their witty banners and signs – one of which even make the cover of German newspaper Bild.

Before and after matches our supporters partied with those of the very teams who crashed any dreams we might have had of winning an odd game.  And last night in the face of a humbling defeat they gave a ten minute rousing rendition of The Fields of Athenry.  Put simply if Carlsberg did football supporters they would do Irish ones...

As that saying goes ‘life is not about waiting for the storm to pass but rather it is about learning to dance in the rain’.  Our soccer supporters showed all of Europe how to dance in the rain.   And they did so with grace and humour.  I am so proud of them.  They reminded me of just how bloody great it is to be Irish!

YOU CAN'T BEAT THE LOVE OF AN ANIMAL

A client of my husband’s arrived at our house recently to collect some photographs.  It was a Saturday morning and she was accompanied by her gorgeous daughter who was about 2 years old.

Arriving at our door can be a bit hectic as not only will you be greeted by one of us 2 leggeds,  but you will also be met by Dylan Da Dog who gets ridiculously excited at the appearance of any visitors – known or unknown.

As I opened the door that Saturday morning I did my best to restrain Dylan while trying to retain some semblance to normal human behaviour so as not to completely overwhelm this little person on my doorstep.  I need not have worried.  “Doggie” she exclaimed and immediately opened her arms to hug a delighted Dylan.  The honest and genuine warmth of this little girl who had no fear whatsoever of our madly dancing, manically tailwagging dog was a joy to watch.  “She likes dogs,” I offered.  “Yep,” her mother confirmed, “she loves them.”

Gay Byrne used to famously say every year on the Late Late Toy Show that the greatest gift you can give a child is the gift of reading.  I agree.  But the second greatest gift you can hand your child is the love of a family pet.  My heart breaks every time I meet a child who has a fear of dogs or cats.

I have always lived with animals.  In fact the only time I was without a cat in my life were the two winter seasons I spent in the Canary Islands and it was a loss I felt keenly and which led me to talk to every stray, scrawny Spanish moggie I met.

My kids obviously have always shared their lives with animals too.  For me, there are few life lessons as important for children than learning how to respect and care for a pet.  We have all learned about love, life and grief from sharing our life with our 4 leggeds.

Yesterday my mother handed me a book, entitled ‘A Street Cat Named Bob’.  Very simply this book tells the story of former homeless man and recovering heroin addict James Bowen who became adopted by an amazing cat called Bob.  Bob the cat was in a bad way when he first showed up and James had to nurse him back to full health with the help of the RSPCA.  In turn James credits the love he got from Bob with helping him turn in his life around.  It is a beautiful story that illustrates perfectly how I think God intended us to share this beautiful planet with our animal brothers and sisters.  Mutual respect along with love freely given is key.

Naturally I am a huge supporter of the work here in Dublin of the DSPCA.  All of my four cats are rescues and we are regular fosterers of kittens also.  Getting a pet is not something anyone should do lightly.  Along with all the love and fun and good stuff there is hard work too.  And when it comes to cats and dogs, there’s the matter of a commitment that could run to near on 20 years.

But if adopting an animal is something that you are curious about or if you would like to support the work of this amazing charity, why not pop along to their PetFest at their HQ on Mount Venus Road, Rathfarnham on Saturday June 16th from 12noon till 4pm. Panto Queen June Rogers will be there as will 98FM’s Teena Gates who will be judging the ‘Scruffts’ dog show.  There will be food stalls and information about the work of Ireland’s oldest animal charity.  The kids can enjoy the face painting and bouncing castle. But most of all you can learn about adopting an animal, from the people who know best how to advise you.

But even if pet ownership is not for you, why not go along so that your children can get up close and personal with some 4 leggeds.  I can’t think of a nicer way to spend a Saturday!  And sure you never know, you might make some new friends!!!

THE GLADIOLI HAVE COME HOME TO ROOST

Today is voting day in the EU Treaty Referendum.  For the last month or so we have been deafened by conflicting voices telling us what they think we should do.  I am not going to rehash any of the debates (although most of them descended into shouting matches) but there is one thing that has irked me in a big way from the beginning of this campaign.  And oddly enough it was exactly the same thing that irked me the last time we voted (the General Election 2011) and that thing is ENDA KENNY.

I have nothing against the man personally.  I do think he is a good person with his heart in the right place.  But he is a weak leader – something I feared over a year ago when my vote, along with an avalanche of others, propelled him and his party into government with Labour.

After 4 years of brutal recession Ireland continues to struggle economically.  That sentence doesn’t however convey the very real suffering of many people in this country.  A fact that was brought into sharp focus this week with an excellent, if very depressing programme on RTE 1 called Life and Debt (you can watch it back on the RTE Player here).  This programme portrayed the very real and desperate nightmare many people are caught in right now.  The programme made me very angry, particularly as it was broadcast in a week when once again Ireland paid €2.25bn to bondholders.  According to tweeter @sebthegooner that equates to €500 for every man, woman and child in this country.  That would amount to €2,000 from this house alone.  We could buy our daughter the wardrobes she badly needs for her bedroom.... but for those who were featured on ‘Life and Debt’ this might buy a bit of peace of mind for a couple of weeks.

If we ever needed strong leadership we need it now, which brings me neatly back to our Enda.  Once again he refused to go into TV3 or any other studio to debate the issues around the EU Treaty.  Bear in mind we pay this man €200,000 a year to lead the country.  The arrogance is breathtaking.

But it is more serious that just giving a two fingers to his electorate, Enda Kenny’s refusal to debate live on air, his obvious fear of conflict or being seen to lose clearly makes him unsuitable for the high office he holds.  This is the man on whom we depend to negotiate our case in Europe.  I despair.  I really do.  The clip above from last nights Channel 4 News is enough to make one cry!

Here is the blog post I wrote over a year ago just prior to the General Election... the gladioli have come home to roost... or something!

Where’s my voting card...... It’s going to be NO.

Fifty People Asked One Question in Dun Laoghaire

This is a beautiful and thought provoking short film.... and it was made over a cold bright weekend in winter on Dun Laoghaire Pier... and you might recognise someone.

Enjoy

I LOVE DOING RADIO....

You can listen to my piece entitled The Wrong Bus which was broadcast last Sunday on RTE Radio One's Sunday Miscellany by clicking here.  I am the third contributor at about 19 minutes in.  And do also listen to the beautiful piece of music played afterwards - by Paco Pena.

I also contributed to Newstalk's 'Talking Point' with Sarah Carey which was broadcast last Saturday.  We discussed how far the state should go on legislating for good parenting.  You can listen to that by clicking here.
(then click the date 12th May to begin listening).  I was joined on the panel by Sunday Independent columnist Carol Hunt and Independent Senator Jillian Van Turnhout

Did I mention that I love doing radio?

Oh and I will also have a short radio essay on this weekend's Media Show on RTE Radio One at 7.30pm on Saturday evening.  I will be putting forward the case for more positive news!

Yep, I love doing radio!

7 is too young... so is 8, 9, 10, 11 and 12

In the recent past Ireland has proved herself to be a dangerous place for young children, particularly those who had connection with the Catholic Church and some of her deviant priests.  Although the said church still seems to have a problem grasping the extent and seriousness of this issue, most of us would agree that the country is now clearly a much safer environment in which to bring up our children. 

And yet, in the last budget, the only senior women in the cabinet presided over the proposal to cut lone parent benefit once their youngest child reaches 7 years of age.  The rationale behind this savage cut is that by then the child would be in school and the lone parent (usually a mother) should be back to work. 

Reality, as we know is that not only are there no jobs but there is little or no affordable childcare.  The same minister has said that she will not enforce this strategy if there isn’t such childcare available... although one would then wonder why she is still insisting on a cart before horse approach. 

But I sense something else going on in Ireland 2012.. something which I had hoped we might have gotten rid of... and that is a cavalier attitude towards single mothers (yes I am deliberately saying mothers) and their children. 

I became a single mother in 1987 and back then, 25 years ago, Ireland still legally called my child ‘illegitimate’.  Things have clearly improved hugely, but I am sensing that there is still a low level judgmental attitude towards single mothers.  At the very least they must be seen as an easy target for this bullying approach by Government. I hope that the effective triumvirate of OPEN, Barnardos and The National Women’s Council and their campaign ‘7 Is Too Young’ is successful in drawing attention to this very unfair cut which ultimately will hurt children.

This undercurrent of discrimination against single mothers was also laid bare by the recent story of the young student in Munster who was refused a place in a secondary school because she was pregnant.  As far as I can remember the principal said that the school did not accept “those kinds of girls” and that his school would not “become a dumping ground for those rejected elsewhere”.  Enlightened times, indeed.  One wonders where the father of this child was.  Did his school have the pass judgement on him before allowing him to be a student?  Of course not. 

But back to the removal of the lone parent allowance when a child reaches 7 years of age which raises another issue... and possibly an even more controversial one.  Should a Government have the right to force a parent of a primary school child out to work or should a parent (mother or father) have the right to stay at home and parent their child if they wish? 

As a stay at home mother for ten years I feel very blessed to have been given the opportunity to do so.. but I also feel (brace yourself – here’s the controversial bit) that parents should be supported if they chose that one of them will stay at home to be with their children.  I am not passing judgement on any parent’s choice.  I also worked when my eldest was young and only stopped when my youngest was born.  I have used crèches.  I know all about the juggling that working mothers have to be brilliant at.  But for me being at home with my children for ten years was the most important work I have ever done. 

Why should not all parents have the opportunity to do likewise?  I know there will be shouting about ‘who on earth is going to pay for that’ and yeah I don’t know.. But up to now we have all been content enough to allow lone parents claim a state allowance and for now, to leave that alone would be enough. 

In the future, when we rebuild this country, morally, economically and practically I hope that we may have politicians and opinion makers who will value the work that parents who stay at home to care for our youngest citizens do.