Country Bumpkin Vs City Slicker

"Well it's a big,big city and it's always the same,
Can never be too pretty, tell me your name ..."

When I was 6 years old, my family moved from County Dublin to County Kildare. While I settled into my new school quite well, I couldn't help but miss my old home, living near to my granny, attending my old school, etc.

I carried this longing for Dublin city all through my teens. I thought I still posessed this preference even these days, up until this morning.

Walking into the cafe, I was worried that I might run out of money and a capacity for caffine before I would be able to find a suitable story for this week's post. However, no sooner had I ordered my white mocha, when I (and the rest of the café with me) was faced with a comical, almost classical dispute between a man and a woman.

Starngely enough, the man (from what I gathered) was from Kildare. The woman had lived in the city for most of her life. And the feud, though full of passion, was also full of hilarity, and how on earth the two had even managed to cross paths was beyond me.

"You'd want to change yer tone fair rapid miss, I've done nahtin worth frettin' over."

"You're commentary was unnecessary. And offensive. I come in here for a quick coffe break to relax and you make foul observations, not even to yourself, but aloud! Who do you think you are?"

"I'm John Keogh, and it was nahtin got to do with you. Get yhur head out yhur arse and leave me be!"

At this stage, I think it would be worth mentioning that Mr.Keogh was in a typical farmers Sunday best, (even though it's only Friday). Hair waxed into a side parting and flattened down to his forehead, save for the mad tuft sticking up at the back. A checkered shirt with courdery trousers, and a grand pair of freshly polished brown loafers.

Our business lady was dressed in the stereotypical pinstriped suit with the clickity-clackety heels, and a bun on top of her head that was pulled so far back I was surprised that her eyeballs weren't popping out of her head.

Our dear Mr. Keogh appeared to have had enough at this stage, and was seemingly backing away from the argument, when our business woman planted a shocking verbal blow to poor John's ears;-

"Rude, ignorant culchie. Get back to doing nothing with your life and shovelling shite in between!"

Ouch.

John winced. I myself felt an indignant stab of offence. How dare she?! How unproffessional! How unpolitically correct! And just plain indecent and inconsiderate! I was furious, and if I hadn't been trying to avoid her gaze since the argument started for fear she would see me writing down nearly everything she said, I would have almost certainly stood up and said something to her.

She had no idea the work that went into being a farmer! The freezing cold 6am starts, the sleepless nights, the physical labour endured in between! What was even more infuriating (if possible) was the way she delivered the sentance. The tone she used. She may as well have spat fire.

I quickly rearranged the streotype "Business woman" in my head, from busy, hardworking and clever; to closed minded, rude and pretentious. After all, that was my turf, and my people she was genralising into one big uneducated and non-existant pile of muck. And I was disgusted. My family, my boyfriend, my best friends, all from different aspects of country life. Each as successful and civilised, as any person you might happen across in any given city.

I couldn't help but smile, and also feel a stab of pride as Mr. Keogh peacefully retorted;

"Well, we supply yah with yer meat, and yer vegetables, and yer leather for yer shoes, and the grains for yer alcohol, and apart from anything else we beat yah more times in the shport than I can remember, so we must be doing something right. Ah sure yer only a young one anyway. What would you know?"

As I mentioned earlier, I have no idea what started this argument, but the way it ended left me proud to have roots and dealings in the land of the Lily Whites.

"And straight I will repair

To the Curragh of Kildare

For it's there I'll find tidings of my dear."

Brothers

"I find, by experience, that the mind and the body are more than married, for they are most intimately united; and when one suffers, the other sympathizes"

Taking the bus from one side of town to the other, at 7.45 in the morning,wearing the same thing you wore last night and without a smidge of food in your stomach, just to make it to college on time, is a frightfully drawn out, boring and uncomfortable process. One often finds themselves self pitying, and in no mood to do anything other than moan.

This morning, I was in said position. I was tired, hungry, nautious, and certainly was not keeping an eye out for people to write my blog on. However, such an incredible case presented itself to me, that I feel I simply have to write about it. Even though I did not have my laptop (I barely had conciousness), and was not in my café of choice (I was on a rickety 122 going through Phibbsborough), my story that I am about to tell has (I think) complete relevance to my blog.

Two men. Two grown men. Very similar (almost (if not entirely) identical) in appearance, sitting three seats ahead of me on the bottom deck. One wheelchair. One walking stick. Both men seemed to be very close, sitting almost on top of eachother, heads pressed together in deep discussion, a blanket covering them from head to toe. Suddenly, the discussion became quite loud, and it transpired that this converstation was actually quite a vicous feud.

Roars echoed around the bus belonging to the two individuals. Threats of violence, accusations of theft, statements of disgust, all whirled around the bus like a hurricane. No body could escape the loud, abusive and slightly alien sounding booms of agression.

From what I could gather, both men felt they spent far too much time together. One man in particular said he couldn't even go to the bathroom without having to make sure it was OK with his companion. There were complaints of the lack of love in each of their lives, each one blaming the other in turn.

I couldn't quite figure out what on earth was keeping them from reaching the solution! Clearly if they both agreed that they were being suffocated by eachother, time apart would seem like the obvious antidote... yes?

I soon realised that, for some unfortunate people in life, the most obvious and (seemingly) easiest solution to their problems in the eyes of the general public, were actually nigh impossible and strenuously difficult.

A knarled hand reached out from under the tartan blanket, and pressed the stop button as we were driving into Harcourt Street. The two stood up in awkward union. The blanket fell. And I witnessed two brothers joined at the head attempting to get themselves together in time to get off the bus.

One brother helped his sibling into the wheelchair, bending down almost the full way. The wheelchair bound brother handed his companion the walking stick that had been on a seat. I watched as the two worked together to, not even get off the bus, but make their way to the door. I watched with fascination and admiration as the ramp was lowered down and they, with some difficulty, shuffled and wheeled off the bus.

I was instantly ashamed of my self pitying, resentful and grumbling self. Poor me, making my way to a good college, in minimum discomfort because I had just come back from a fun filled, eventful night on the town. No wonder the two passangers had such a passionate row in the middle of everybody. They had never had two minutes to themselves. Always with eachother.

I felt very sad getting off the bus, and it felt strange walking up the road to my college while simultaneously thinking of what it might be like to have to wheel myself instead, or bend nearly the full way over and shuffle along with a walking stick. I couldn't imagine it properly, the thought became quite sickening and upsetting.

This blog's purpose and aim is to explore every kind of human trait and characteristic available to me. I did not think I would be writing about such genuine courage or determination so early on in my posts, but if I were to ignore this story and try to find a more light hearted or easily relatable one, I don't think I would be doing my job properly as a future jounalist. The brothers reminded me how good nearly all of us have it, and how easy it is to forget because of work and stress.

"You remind me of a time,
When I'd feel so alive,
Do you remember that?
Do you remember that?"

Welcome To Your Life

Welcome to your life. Welcome to your friend's life. The life of your neighbour. The life of your lecturer. Welcome to my life.

This blog will be all about people. Human interaction. Human nature. Human habits. Human error. My aim is to address and observe every type of personality that there is to experiance here in Dublin. Therefore, the list is endless, but I will, of course, do my best to post something relating to you. There are very few who will escape :P

So I have my café of choice, which I will be found in at least twice a week. Perhaps peeking over a newspaper, or peering over my laptop screen (this location will of course have to be kept top secret so as not to blow my cover). Essentailly, I will be trying to figure out Why we are attracted to eachothers faults. How do we manage to find happiness in misery? What are the most common quirks and habits belonging to us? What is the strangest and yet most wonderful character I will be able to provide you information with? Maybe one week you will be the strange and wonderful character that this blog will revolve around.

Hello fascination (: