The Vinyl 80's

I am currently reconstructing my front room at home. I promised myself that I would make this room habitable for Christmas this year.  With different people watching different T.V it can get a bit like a G20 summit when trying to decide who is watching what, as I have all the visitors here.

Dad is all about sport all year around, Mum is old black and white movies (this year on her own as this was Auntie B’s province also) and I just want to return to my childhood with the annual repeat of ‘The Great Escape’ and re runs of ‘Open all Hours,’ Tommy Cooper or Les Dawson. I can’t live without my comedy.

So construction commenced with a brand new storage cupboard for all my crafts (I LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT) and a sort out of all my craft materials. Then I have to organise more storage and best of all, a new writing station.

The new writing station will be in the space currently occupied by a horrendous lump of furniture that I have always hated. It remained when Mum and Dad moved out to become rural and organic about 12 Years ago. This thing has only lasted so long as it housed the family record collection. Back in the days before the download dawned and C.D’s reigned, we had the vinyl records for our music. And did we have our vinyl.

We all love our sounds and bought a fair amount of music over the years. We started with ‘Bugs Bunny in London’ and the soundtrack from ‘Walt Disney’s Cinderella’ and went on from there. Bro and I were pirates and would confer before buying anything then, one of us bought and the other taped to the old cassette tapes. Being older, Bro was working before I was so he had a much larger collection than I had. His collection stayed here when he moved into his own house as he ‘never had time to pack them’. This changed over the weekend.

I took on the mammoth task of packing bro’s records as he has agreed to take them to his attic about 15 years after he left here. Well take about fun memories. I started on his singles collection and had some laughs I can tell you. The first was when I came across ‘What difference does it make’, by the Smiths. I remembered Bro coming in with the record shop bag and asking him what he had bought. His reply, to the point, was ‘what difference does it make.’  My mother, totally misunderstanding her teenagers went into a ‘don’t talk to your sister like that ‘rant. And of course we rolled around laughing incapable of explaining what was so hysterical until Bro revealed the disc from his bag!

Then I found ‘Zoom’, by Fat Larry’s Band. I remember my friend and I wanted a copy each of this, paid for from our pocket money. Auntie O brought us to the record shop and we asked for two copies. The guy in the shop couldn’t hear us over his blaring rock music and my aunt said, in a louder voice,’ They want two Fat Harry’s!!!’

Then the piece de resistance. I found ‘Two Tribes’ by Frankie Goes to Hollywood.  When Frankie goes to Hollywood played Dublin this was the first ever gig I was allowed to. Bro brought me and as is the case with every music fan, you never forget the first stadium gig. I was thirteen and I loved it.

Then the sleeve of the single reminded me of another incident when bro had a Jacket with Frankie goes to Hollywood on the back. The image also had Lenin on it advertising one of their records and our Nan was none too pleased at her grandson walking around wearing a communist and voiced her disapproval until we couldn’t keep straight faces a minute longer. Poor Nan.

It was a fun afternoon with the memories.  Bro has every number one single from 1983 – 1988. Some are great tracks and some are well best left to the confines of the attic in case playing them frightens children and animals. I am referring to a techno record he bought for some reason known only to himself called ‘Doot Doot,’ by some outfit called Freur. This record used to freak me out. But then we all have our little embarrassments in our record collections don’t we. Mine is Paul McCartney and the Frog Chorus. What’s yours.

Keep Smiling

Auntie B, R.I.P

Auntie B died two weeks ago, the way she wanted. This maybe sounds a bit crazy, but she did. You see we had the ‘conversation’ a few weeks ago and discussed everything so I know she got her wish. And I got to keep my promise.

When she talked about her funeral to me we thought she would be around for a bit longer. We thought for example that she would be part of the angel child’s first Christmas. So we sat together one Thursday night and talked about everything. She didn’t want to die at home. ‘Upsets too many people’, she said. She remembered her sister’s deaths. One died at home aged 14. The other died in hospital aged 56. ‘So hospital it is,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to be there with you?’ She was afraid to answer me. ‘Ok’, I said, ‘we did all we did together, we might as well do that too.’

She wasn’t afraid she said. She didn’t want to leave us behind, all the people she loved. I told her the only difference in how we were talking then versus how we would talk after she died was that I wouldn’t be able to see her. I would feel her and sense her and hear her in my head but just not see her. She nodded.

She went downhill suddenly. She was holding court in the hospice smoking room on Sunday night. She had two pals, Robert and Gerry, and she was giving it loads.  She was telling them how the angel child had sprinted down the corridor like Usain bolt and had high fived a nurse mid stride. We left her laughing.

Monday she was tired. She had new meds and was sleeping a lot. Tuesday the hospital phoned me to say she was very sleepy and not to get a fright when we saw her. She was very sleepy and I was unsure of what was happening. When you are close to someone, you know. Deep in your heart you can never lie to yourself, it’s just how much you are prepared to admit.

Wednesday we met her team. They said how it really was. They gave her days. They said there was no need to stay nights with her yet, nearer the weekend was time enough. We called the family. Then I sat with her.

Some of her friends decided to visit her. They thought it was better than waiting until she failed further. They too listen to the inner voice. After a break I went to see her and I found a cousin sitting with her who had decided to visit a day earlier than she planned. B smiled at her when she woke up. I was glad for both of them.

The angel child came in then. He wanted to kiss her and he sat on her bed and held her hand. I said he loves his Auntie B. She replied his Auntie B loves him. His dad asked where was his Auntie B? He pointed at her and she pointed back.

More family came and had time with her not realising what little time they all had left with her. Looking back it was just as well. At least they brought the energy of believing they would see her again. This made it easier for her even if she was drifting in and out of consciousness.

I felt uneasy about leaving her. The family reminded me how the nurses said there was no need yet. As I hung around wondering where I would find the way with this her nurse came up to me and said ‘oh you’re staying with her’. I said I wasn’t sure and she said ‘no do, keep her company in her new room.’ We both knew. Thank god for her.

I went home, got warm clothes and came back with dad. She was moved to her own room then and luckily a reclining chair that she had been using was moved with her. So I lined it up beside her and lay holding her hand. She woke up at around 4 a.m and I told her all was happy and peaceful and good. She said you make it all good. She never spoke to me again. She woke up and smiled a few times but never spoke.

Dad went off on his walkabout around 8a.m and met one of her pals. He wheeled him off the premises and to a local shop to buy sweets and cigarettes. They weren’t caught. Dad came into the room, she opened one eye and looked at him and said ‘Jesus Mary and Joseph.’ We laughed. Dad is a lifelong atheist!

9.15a.m and two nurses came in to wash her. They said she would be ready in a few minutes and the doctor would be along then to talk to us. I kissed her forehead and said won’t be long darling see you in a minute. By the time I turned and left the room and passed the chapel she had gone. The poor nurses got a drop.

I came in kissed her again and said goodbye darling. She got everything she wanted. We got her last night together; peaceful and happy. Then she went when she wanted, quickly and peacefully.

I miss her. I miss her calls every night. Her voice. Her laughter. Her eccentricities. Her chats. Winding her up. Swearing at me. Her friendship. Love. All that she was. B.

But I have a new guardian angel now. And guess what she is looking after me already. She isn’t gone. I just can’t see her. I can feel her, I can sense her and I hear her in my head. I just can’t see her.

Keep Smiling,

Healthy Observations

I spent a few hours this weekend at a Health Show in Dublin. Any of you who have read this blog before will know of my interest in all things natural so it is no surprise that I would be hanging out at a show like this on a Saturday.  At the moment my interest runs a bit deeper what with looking after Auntie B which is also the reason why I have been missing for as long as I have.  But my interest is also for myself as I could do with a bit of an overhaul on the health and fitness front.

Rude Health is great show (www.rudehealth.ie). It has been running for a few years now and is a great way to find new products which are coming into our health shops and good retail food outlets. I love nosing around at it.

 As an observer of human behaviour, my favourite hobby, I had a really interesting experience this year. It didn’t change how much fun I had at the show and I am not feeling over sensitive or having a rant. I am sitting writing this with a grin on my face and I have some cool stuff for my writing notebook. So here’s the thing which gave me some amusement.

Mum is a wheelchair user. We are used to people seeing the chair and asking the driver what she wants instead of addressing her. We get a great kick when she answers for herself in a loud clear voice and then the addresser doesn’t know where to put their face.   What fascinated us yesterday was the number of people that seemed not to see us trundling up and down the aisles at the show.  There is limited walking space so did these eegits think we could magic ourselves straight through the crowd and miraculously appear out the other side of them.  Have these people been watching too much Harry Potter? Or are they just so rude and full of self-entitlement that we should struggle out of THEIR way?

Don’t worry; I am a Scorpio after all. I have a voice like a fog horn so I can call out excuse me with a volume that everyone in the vicinity can hear and notice these people not moving and this gives their egos a bit of a dent. Also according to a guy I once worked with, I can adopt a very unique facial expression. It was described as a mixture of boredom and disdain.  When the aisle blockers look to see where the voice is coming from they are met with this face and it has the desired effect.

The second funny observation was in relation my own experiences with the exhibitors. This really was hilarious.  I’ll be honest I am not the smallest person on the planet.  Like all lovers of good chocolate it shows.  So I got a great kick out of the exhibitors who didn’t really know what to do with me.  It seemed as though I had a bad flu that they were afraid of catching. When I appeared on their stands they didn’t really want to deal with me. One guy in particular stopped mid-sentence to discuss his stuff with another woman. Even when I opted to buy his ware and was standing with a tenner in my hand he kept on to the other woman. I was thrilled when she walked off without buying his stuff and he was stuck with ol’ big ass for a sale.  I didn’t have to say anything but my cool calm grin had the desired effect on him.

You see there is no need to make a scene or be indignantly offended. Karma usually takes care of all that for me.

It seems to me that they have their marketing all wrong. I mean the people who are obviously beacons of health are going to buy these products to maintain their health and fitness levels. But if someone of the ‘needing to change’ variety has gone to the trouble of coming to  a show on health then surely they are going to want to buy the same stuff to improve their health and fitness too. A no brainer surely.

The best reaction I got all day was from a lovely lady called Lily from www.lilysteashop.com.  Not only does she have a lovely range of good quality loose teas ( her white tea with vanilla is fab) she was really cool to talk to. And far from ignoring the obvious she suggested I try her slimming teas. I mean there goes a sensible retailer. It’s a health show.  Here’s someone who obviously has a change to make. And she was as I said really cool about it. Hats off to you Lily.

So now I have some really fun ideas for my writing based on the discomfort of the health retailer in dealing with the unhealthy.  But the last laugh is on them. When I go to the show next year, all sorted out and healthy we’ll see who wants me to buy their gear and who doesn’t. By then I should have the strength of Shire horse and can carry mum up and over the heads of the planks who refuse to use their brains and make way for a wheelchair.

Keep smiling.

The Diary Experiment

I am conducting a writing experiment on myself.  On Thursday I began to keep a diary which I will constantly update throughout the day. The length of the experiment is one week. Every thought deep or shallow, every event big or small will be documented in full. This is a departure for me as I keep notes in tattered copybooks and ideas on scraps of card but never a diary.

It may seem a bit unusual for someone who writes (a bit) not to keep one, but I haven’t kept a diary since I was 16 and then after a few months I had to burn it one day when no one was home. I was rather worried  because as someone who has always been a bit on the scatty side it was likely I would leave in where it could be found and read. Then I would be in more trouble than I could ever imagine!

 

Looking back now the diary was harmless enough, pages packed with teenage angst and tales of being misunderstood. I have always been a free spirit even if at that age most of the free spiritedness had to stay in my own head. There were a few incidents of experimenting with alcohol which were actually quite funny now and a few tales of mine and my friend’s experiments with boys. Not forgetting one about criminal damage.

Well it wasn’t exactly criminal damage. It was one Sunday when a gang of us got together and my friend Jim and I decided that it would be a laugh to dress Jim up as Prince. So as he was already wearing a black coat, I got two tassel scarves and tied one around his head and the other around his neck and played whatever Prince track was in the charts then on my portable stereo. I thought to complete the look he needed a mock guitar so I pulled up a no dumping sign from the road side and he used that to perfect his look and moves. I wish camera phones were around then.

Anyway the diary experience put me off writing one again. I thought that the safest place to keep any thoughts or memories or ramblings was in my own head. But I thought as I wasn’t getting the time I would like to write as much as I was before aunty B took ill and when I did write it was coming from somewhere rather rushed and stressed. I thought if I record every thought and deed for a week and see what is actually spinning in my head it might actually be a very useful exercise in more ways than one. It could relieve the little bit of stress I can feel from time to time so it would be a therapeutic exercise, it could help me look at stuff differently, and also perhaps bring a new angle to my writing.

As it stands I have my project which is fiction, I have this friendly blog and the frequent use of the communicator messaging in work where we send instant smart and cheeky messages directly to each other trying to outwit each other’s wit. A complete diary is hitting a completely different spot.

I am going with the free association theory, whatever comes up goes down. I have even managed to argue out a few things with myself so it is certainly bringing something new to the table as they say. Next Thursday I will read it back and see do I recognise myself.

I am not doing any read back at all. No checking the page I just turned for continuation I just go. I am not, as far as I can, holding anything in short term memory so I can get a real view of the inside of my head in four days time. This is helping resist the temptation as I know I will get a kick out of the full picture on Thursday.

I am quite interested as to what I might say about work when I am totally unbridled inside this turquoise notebook. Especially with some of what has been going on lately. It been a great time to observe certain human behaviours shall I say. I will have to be careful I don’t leave the thing on my desk at lunchtime or go home without it.

 I could even end up having to burn this one too. If anything interesting comes up I will let you know but I may end up editing just in case I come across as a serious nutter and you never visit me here again. Or indeed my friends, if I haven’t scared them off send for the white coats to drag me away from this keyboard. All shall be revealed! (Maybe)

I don’t feel I can end this one as I usually do what with the sad events in Norway this weekend so I will send  a thought of sympathy and compassion to all who are grieving and a prayer for their loss.

S.

The Bees are back in Town

I have bees in my hive again! I am so excited. Dad brought the dog for his morning walk and noticed some activity around the hive. He decided to open it to see what was happening and a swarm had arrived and taken up residence sometime between my leaving for work at 7.30 and the dog walk at 10.

I was thrilled because I lost my bees over the winter. I don’t know what happened. My parents are bee keepers and they reckoned it could have been the really severe frost and snow we got last winter because we don’t normally get such sub zero temperatures in this country. They couldn’t rule out sickness, but because one hive is on a shed roof and the other was in a protected corner they didn’t think it was a spray or anything along those lines. But I lost both hives and it hurt.

The funny thing is I never meant to be a bee keeper. It was on my mind when I saw all the devastation the bee populations worldwide are suffering and a T.V programme showed how bees were doing really well in suburban areas. The opinion offered on this show was that farmers are using so many sprays now and that they are using such huge tractor machines to spray the bees are caught up in a mist of chemicals they cannot escape from. A huge big sprayer coming along at speed leaves no place for a bee to escape to protect itself. So the idea was suburban bee keepers would help the population.

As it happened Dad decided to repair one of his hives while staying with me as mum was in hospital. He did cleaning and repairs and decided that as he had time he would set the hive up and then he would be ready to just bring home and place on its stand. He then thought that it needed to dry out a bit and as I had my beloved late dog Shankly at the time who was starting to go a bit blind he would put it on top of my shed in case Shankly walked into it or did what dogs do when something new appears in their garden.

It wasn’t too long later, maybe a week two, and we were in the kitchen one morning. I thought it was going to rain as suddenly the kitchen got very dark. I then noticed a weird shadow on the floor that seemed to be moving. Looking out we saw a full swarm of bees in the back at the shed. It was Hitchcock-esque. The whole roof and garden was blacked out with thousands of bees. It was spectacular to watch. Here was this arrangement of black dots swirling and spinning as though in a kaleidoscope dancing into pattern changes and arrangements of their own making.

After watching them for what felt like an age each movement thinned out and they all made their entrance into the hive on the shed. I had bees. They chose me. I was delighted.

They settled in well. They were happy enough and had a lovely nature. I could go in and out of the shed and they never got upset with me. The neighbours were never bothered either because native bees don’t as a rule want to interfere with people. However, the weekend of the famous ash cloud over Europe last summer the bees got very upset and did come out in larger numbers and seemed a bit confused. Something wasn’t right in the atmosphere and they let us know that!

I have to be honest though I don’t handle them. While I love having them Dad looks after them. I am not really the bee suit and smoke gun type and while I have dad I leave it to him to open the hive and check on the goings on. I know down the line I will have to get the finger out but I am hiding behind daddy for now. I did make their syrup for the winter feed though so at least I did something.

Last year I had two hives. When a new queen is born the old queen is kicked out of the hive and a few hundred bees go with her. They take residence on a wall or a tree nearby until someone hopefully a bee keeper comes and takes them. In my case a hive was set up for this possibility so when they landed on Katie, my elder tree, Dad was able to move them from tree to hive.

I got the loveliest honey last year. It was a pale yellow flowing soft honey. It was a gentle tasting honey too which I loved. I had to hide it as it got very popular and would have been eaten in a week if I wasn’t careful. At least by saying this was the last jar it got used sparingly and then I could miraculously produce another last jar and everyone got more enjoyment from it.

But then we opened the hives this year and nothing. Both colonies were wiped out. I was gutted.


I missed them. Apart from being part of the garden and part of my mornings they helped with the laundry. Bees are a great indicator of rain. When I had washing on a cloudy day I watched the bees. If they are happily coming and going then it isn’t due to rain. If it clouds over and you notice bees go in hurriedly but not come back out then it will rain within the next five minutes or so. I never got my washing rained on while I had my pals there.

Dad had set it up again new sections and new paper and left it in place. The idea being that a worker bee goes ahead of the full swarm to check out new accommodation. The often find somewhere like my hive and will go in and see what is in there and is it what the colony need. That is why bee keepers often have an empty hive so a swarm will find a place to go.

This may seem like robbery but unlike a lost dog or cat which you return to the owner when you read the collar how do you give bees back. It is acceptable in bee keeper circles that swarms go and who finds them minds them. All beekeepers accept that as it is part of bee keeping.

I hope these new friends are happy here. They seem happy so far. I’ve been in and out to the garden and they don’t mind, I don’t interrupt them with my presence. Since this morning they have cleaned out the hive and deposited the rubbish on the shed roof so the birds can pick it up. Nature is doing its stuff. I feel the gap in the garden life has been sorted and we are all one again. I will keep you all posted on their progress as the year goes on.

Keep smiling.

Auntie B's Birthday

Saturday was auntie B’s birthday. I won’t embarrass her by telling you she is 71. It was one of ‘those’ occasions because she has been in hospital for 8 weeks and a care home for the last two. She has cancer.

Auntie B and I were always close, as was the case with Auntie O. Auntie O was my godmother and Auntie B was my brother’s godmother but it didn’t matter because the both treated us as if they were godmothers to us both. Auntie O passed 11 years ago. I miss her still even though I know she visits. I feel her presence at times and to be honest I don’t really know what to do. So I just smile at her.

Auntie O worked office hours and Auntie B worked mornings and evenings so they could look after my grandmother between them. Auntie O came home for her lunch when she worked nearby so it seemed as though theirs was a house filled with activity. Someone was always coming or going. My mother is from a big family so there were different cousins, aunts, uncles and friends all passing by and dropping in. The front door was never locked.

Auntie B taught me to knit. She was an Aran specialist and made it look so simple. Her catchphrase was its only plain and purl twisted around. This meant that I never panicked over a pattern I knew it was only plain and purl twisted around. I have a strange way of holding needles and sometimes it looked like I could lose the lot. Auntie B knew it didn’t matter. Once she was happy with the tension, I could hold the work as daft as I pleased.

Auntie B‘s evening job was in a local corner shop.  She was a wiz at adding up bills in her head. She had the register perfect to the penny every night at closing. The owner trusted her so much she was allowed to bring me with her when I spent summer holidays with the aunties.  There would be an outcry over child labour now but then as an eight year old I was perched up on a stool behind the counter serving customers their cigarettes and chocolate, milk and bread. The only job I wasn’t allowed to do was cut the cooked meat. I longed for the day I would be old enough to use the meat slicer.  Then, I thought, I would be grown up.

If I had no plans on a Friday night or if I was staying of a weekend to save money for something I spent them with the aunties. We would order pizza and sides, hire a movie (on video tape then) and have a great laugh. By then my Gran had died and they had moved to another part of their town. There were fewer callers, my cousins grew up and forgot about their aunties who were as good to them as they were to me and my bro. Eaten bread is soon forgotten. But selfishly I had them all to myself.

Auntie O had retired and bought a good car so they came to ours on a Monday and Thursday. I made sure I got home from work and by then I knew how to wind them up and Auntie O especially used to get tormented with jokes. One Christmas she fell asleep in the chair so me and bro covered her in Christmas decorations, took photos and took the decorations off her again. Then I sent a photocopy of each photo to her in the post every day for a week.

Auntie B had a bad heart. She had rheumatic fever as a child followed by chorea. Neither of these are heard of now.  This damaged her valves and made her weak for years. She had endless hospital appointments and Doctor’s visits. Auntie O was in good health. Or so we thought.

She took ill and cancer was discovered. She lasted 6 weeks. Auntie B was on her own. So every Sunday she came to me for the day. Mum and Dad had turned native and gone to live in the country growing organic fruit and veg so me and B got on with city living. She would come in to me in work and we would go for lunch. Then the heart got worse and she needed surgery. Two valves were replaced and the third was repaired somewhat. But she was fine. She stayed with me for two weeks and refused to eat anything but spring rolls and chips from the local take away. I still have issues with spring rolls!

Auntie B wasn’t feeling so good. Her consultant wanted to run tests. I told her to agree. She wouldn’t.  I talked to her again but no. Then she caught a virus and was hospitalised anyway. This is when the cancer was discovered.
She had a 7 inch tumour removed from her bowel. Then she got an infection which put her back a lot. Then her blood pressure dropped. This was set back number two. She was very weak and lost a load of weight along with her strength. Then to her consultant’s surprise she bounced back. She bounced back so much she began to give out to the nurses if they didn’t meet her exacting standards. They didn’t know B is a fireball so they sent a psychiatrist to access her for Alzheimer’s as she was telling them to effing be careful with her if they were rough and effing answer the bell when she rang. She realised from the questions what was happening and asked did they think she was effing losing it. She told them at 70 years she had earned the right to be forgetful but she wasn’t crackers yet!

She is in the care home to build her strength up for her chemotherapy. She sees her oncologist on Tuesday. I wish him luck. Mum as her older sister is going with her. She doesn’t swear so much with mum. My money is still on Auntie B.

On her birthday every year we order too much Chinese food and I get a cake and we spend it together.  This year, we came to the care home. It is such a great place. They have a coffee shop on site as there is a walk into the mountains by the home so it is full of residents and their visitors along with hill walkers and strollers. We arranged a cake and surprised her. My brother, his wife and the angel child were there as well as my cousin and his family and my Uncle F. Dad was master of ceremonies. We had a great time.

Auntie B kept some cake for the nursing staff and told them to leave some for the night shift. She got teased about a night carer she gets on with and she said yes she needed her eye candy! She is irrepressible.

She told me she has to beat this because she wants to enjoy the angel child growing up. She won a championship medal for camogie and taught each of us how to hurl. She really believes she will make a good fist of beating it as she knows how to win at a tough team sport. I can’t argue with that.

She is also planning a new kitchen as she says she needs a split level cooker on account of the fact she can no longer bend or stoop. And she says she is bored with her cupboard doors. She has started to swear at us when we torment her and she has got into trouble for walking around on her own. I have a feeling she may be around to teach the angel child a bit about hurling yet. I think she may have a few other plans too.
 Wishing you many more birthdays Auntie B.
Keep Smiling

My Mate wants an E Reader

Quite by accident I read Wuthering Heights on my iPhone on Friday. I didn’t plan to. I was looking at apps and updates and I managed to find myself looking at a particular app I installed a while ago. I don’t actually know what I did but I navigated myself on to the first page. It’s a long time since I read Wuthering Heights. 

This made me think about the e reader phenomenon. I have looked at it and as a computer illiterate I left it at that. My friend wants one. He is a computer genius and loves gadgets so much that when he finds a new one he buys one for himself and one for his girlfriend, regardless of if she wants one or not.  He is waiting to buy an e reader, as he reckons the price will go down.  He also reckons that as well as a price drop a few other things will get tweaked and then they will be an amazing piece of kit.

It’s a funny one, the e book thing. It seems that some people are embracing it with literally both hands. Some of us know the technology is there but it’s for computer lovers and not us just yet. And then there are those who will never go for an e book no matter what the deal is.

E reading has its plus side. First there is the price difference. E books are less expensive. Then as was the case with my Wuthering Heights I didn’t have to pay anything. The app is free and because the book is out of copyright I can download and read for nothing. There is a second app I have installed which was also a free app so I have plenty of free reading

The environmental issue comes next. There is no paper used or glue or ink so it is clearly greener. The only energy requirement is electricity to charge the reader. The charge isn’t that much so that’s all good.

There is a convenience factor. An e book can be bought and downloaded pretty quickly. From my limited knowledge which was gleaned from a talk at the Writers Centre Dublin,
http://www.writerscentre.ie/, a lot of e book readers buy their e books for the speed of access to their purchase and one woman, described as mature, apparently buys a couple of e books a week.

Next has to be the ease of travel. The difference in weight in your bag between War and Peace in paperback or on an e reader is quite significant. It would be the difference between having a sore shoulder or not. A school in the West of Ireland are bringing in a scheme where iPads will be used with the School books loaded on to them from the next academic year. The local credit union are offering loans to parents for the scheme as it will cost €700.00 for the package. The kids interviewed were thrilled. Especially as the current schoolbag weighs the equivalent of a two year old child and this weight is carried by 13 year old children.

Having said all of this the paper book is still a thing of beauty. There is something so cool about walking into a proper bookseller and browsing around. What do I mean by a proper bookseller? It is a proper book store, owned by a book lover and staffed by book lovers. Instead of these big outlets with top sellers pushed at you with offers and discounts and staff who are only there to move units and as fast as possible, you get a piece of tranquillity in a small corner of book heaven.
 You feel the calm energy as you walk in. Other customers are in their own place seeking the pleasure of their own favourite genre and there is no rush or hurry, no music or narrow aisles forcing you to grab and get out. These booksellers know their people and often know what you are about just by looking at you.

Very often a beautiful pearl is to be found in these places. You are wandering around and there is a book you never knew existed. A  single little gem waiting for you. I never fail to go into one of these wondrous places without finding such a book.

There is a lovely feeling to walking in and finding a lovely new book, paying for it with inked paper and opening it in your reading place. There is the smell of new paper and fresh ink the feeling of this new piece of art in your hand.  It’s the curling up on the sofa comfortably with the book of the day, your new best friend. It feels like a unique human experience, sharing Authors thoughts and being part of that journey from the author’s imagination to the physical presence of their work in reality.

Even a second hand or used book has energy of its own. As well as the authors energy there is the previous reader’s energy coming from the pages. I even like marks notes in margins and underlines. It brings to me how this book was part of someone else’s life for a while.
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Am I anti e book? No.

Am I unimpressed by the e book phenomenon? No.

Has it a place in the joy of reading? A resounding yes.

However the written word gets to people so they can love it, hate it, discuss it, debate it, recommend it, is all that matters. I will probably be reading more on the iPhone.  I will still be hanging out in my favourite booksellers promising myself I will only buy the one book this time and never quite managing it. I will always find the little booksellers gem that is place on the shelf just for me. I could still find that gem in the e book store on line without a doubt. As long as writers write and readers read there is room for all formats. 
  
Keep smiling