Belonging - Of Soul Friends and Heartlands

I was gifted a beautiful book, Anam Cara: Spiritual Wisdom from the Celtic World - by my own dearest soul sister. She gave it because she knows what feeds my soul. And she knows how deeply I was recently hurt by being judged harshly which reawoke my sadness that I do not belong here.

I have never quite belonged anywhere. In England I have always felt Irish. In Ireland I am most definitely English. In Japan I was most definitely Western. Though each place holds a piece of my soul, I am always aware that I do not belong.

Artist unknown

Belonging. It is the most basic thing that we yearn for. But for me has been quite hard to come by.

With each of my soul connections in this life - people and places - there has been an instantaneous feeling of belonging. Of knowing beyond knowledge that a piece of my soul was forged here, from the same stuff. As though the heavens have for a moment come into perfect alignment and time stands still. I am home.

But home does not last. Mundanities and misunderstandings seep in. And the sense of belonging becomes a little less clear. I feel I belong - but you do not.

Often I feel like I have to defend my right to be here in our little corner of Ireland. My family's right. That it is the land of my birth does not seem to matter. Nor that it is the land of my heart. 

In superficial day to day living I am perceived as other. Except by those who know me for who and what I really am. I perceive myself as other - having neither the correct lilt to my accent nor the native language. Sharing in neither the sporting nor spiritual practices which bind tight knit rural communities together I feel my difference as a nagging ache which colours all my interactions. All I need do is to open my mouth and feel that I do not belong. Who are my people I wonder - who has my back and who is talking behind it. Am I safe, am I safe? How much can I be me and be safe?

No matter that my children are the fourth generation of our family to live in this village. No matter.

I have been consciously reminding myself that this land is my land too. I am of it, it is of me. 

This swathe of sand and stormy seas that feel as much part of me as my own blood - a contour of coast that I have walked and talked and danced and drawn on, swam and fished in and made my own over more than three decades. Always, always this coast calls me when the furies race in my head. I walk the strand and allow the wind that caresses my hair to blow the anger from my mind. And always, always the lighthouse on the island, ever there, still presence in the stormy sea, the ocean unfurling to distant shores, the starry sky above gently reminding me of my own insignificance.

This is home. I belong. I know.

The sand and stones make way to reeds and tufty grass. The bog, this precious limbo land of tufted grass, hidden pools and sinking mud, of migrating birds rising as a cloud and rolling mists. Magical, mysterious, silent and untouched. Wild heaven.

Rising up from it the trees of my father's land, tall trees which have known 60 silent years since first being planted by his hand as a tender boy. Trees reaching, branching above and below. Sheltering us from the storms, and sharing their yearly cycle of flowers, foliage and fruit - an annual miracle of which I never tire. I know each tree by name. The herons in their penthouse nests do too.

This is home. We are rooted here.

Celtic Flow by Joanne Taylor

It feels good finding a deep belonging to this land, one that precedes the Catholicism that I so often find myself at ideological logger heads with. This land came first. And the seasonal celebrations that sprang out of it. And the art and music and songs and stories which my soul resonates to. The dances and design, the spirals and spirit that infuses me... and you. We are woven together through spirit, art and earth.

These are our shared roots - a spiritual understanding that was rooted in this landscape, in the understanding of soul, of beauty and friendship. Celtic history is what unites my various parts: grandparents from Wales and Scotland, a childhood divided between the south coasts of England and Ireland. Circles of stones and festivals of fire. The land of the Celts is my heart-land, my soul scape. 

This is our shared ground, our heartland. These are our roots.

PS. For more lovely Celtic images check out my Pinterest board - Celtic Dreams

10 Reasons Why I Hate my Bank

I am FUMING after another lengthy and crappy encounter with my bank. I went in to pay 3 cheques and close a business account and three days later am still fuming.

But life is good for us really. Our house is not currently being repossessed. We are not trying to fend off phone calls and endless meetings about mortgage repayment issues. We have not tried to change our direct debit recently. We are not being overcharged on our renegotiated mortgage payments meaning we have no money for groceries. We are not overdrawn.

I have friends in all the above situations who are sick with anxiety and stress from it. And every interaction with the bank leaves them feeling more powerless and frustrated.

Anger towards the banks in Ireland is HIGH. Anger at every level of the system which screws with you and makes you feel used and abused.

Let me add a disclaimer right now - this is not directed at bank employees per se, who I know have been at the blunt end of a lot of shit. My anger is directed at individuals, and banks as a generic mass, and my particular branch... So let me continue...

1) They charge me to put money into my account. No other bank that I have banked with in the UK, Japan or France have done this.

2) They charge me to take money OUT of my account. Ditto.

3) They do not pay me interest on the money that they are sitting on. My last bank paid me 7.5% interest.

4) The government charge me tax for any cheque book, credit card or ATM card I have. This is just shit. Ditto above points.

5) SOOOO paying through the nose for each of these services one would expect great service... ummm.... no! You have to queue for 20-30 minutes if you go to the bank between 10.30 and 3.30. To be served by the ONE cashier. This is in a major town - population 15,000 with at least that many people again in the outlying area. In fact out bank has recent been redesigned - with money for us of course - to cut down the customer service positions from 2 behind a service desk, to one floating adviser, to cut cashiers from 3 to 1 sometimes two, and to replace them with a bank of machines.

6) The machines will not accept notes that have been folded to much. Cheques with staples in, or that have been folded at all. That is most of what I try to pay into the bank. Once they even lost a substantial fundraising cheque I paid in. Gone.

7) But if you try to use the cashier, you pay double for a woman with a serious case of the grumps.Who then can't do what you want either.

8) Our bank branch refused to give us a very small mortgage, despite the fact we had a substantial deposit, had a well paid steady job, and had paid off a different mortgage with them, without fail, for 12 years. The same branch of the bank in the next town gave us the mortgage - we named our third child after that woman! That is how grateful we were to have a family home and a woman who cared enough to help us negotiate the mortgage madness with kindness and caring.

9) We, the tax payers bailed out the banks...without any say in the matter. Our children will still be indebted because of this. The economy tanked. Businesses closed. Lots of people became unemployed and suddenly couldn't pay mortgages. The banks do not give a flying fuck. They do not see the morality of do as you have been done to - we bailed your corporate, capitalist butts out - but you can sell family homes from under people, to get YOUR money back.

10) It makes no difference if I change banks cos they're all the same. Everyone I know in Ireland hates their bank.

Here endeth the rant.

The Gathering: A Hundred Thousand Welcomes to the Land of Broken Dreams

2013. The year of The Gathering.

"The what?", I hear you ask, if you're not from these climes...

The Gathering...

"Cead mile failte." The traditional Irish greeting of a hundred thousand welcomes is being proffered by the Irish tourist board and government, as an initiative to tempt rich Americans and anyone lucky enough to have escaped the country, recently, or centuries ago, back for a holiday, to show off our cultural finesse, gloss over the economic meltdown and then turn them upside down, so the gold falls out the bottom of their pockets and plugs a hole in this sinking ship of a nation (is that enough mixed metaphors for you?!)

Meh.

Gabriel Byrne referred to it as a "scam" and a "shakedown". And he'd be right. And it is shallow. It says, we want you if you have money, but not needs.

In reality this is not the year of the gathering, but a Leavetaking, or Scattering. Last year 238 left our shores. Everyday. From a country of only 4 million.

And it's not just European immigrants heading home now times are tougher. 53% leaving are native Irish. 87,100  of our population left in the 12 months to April 2012, according to the Central Statistics Office. They are expecting the same figures again for 2012-13. 

This is the land of the hundred thousand goodbyes.

Phew, fewer kids to pay for, you can hear the government sigh. Fewer sick people to deal with. Fewer on the dole. Fewer people in need of services. Yes but less taxes, less diversity, fewer families together. This is a brain drain as our youngest and brightest leave these shores. And many young married couples who had studied abroad, intending to head home to start their families, stay away because of the lack of prospects.

I don't know of anyone coming to the Gathering. But I know of families leaving. Posting their house keys through their doors, because they can't sell, because they're in negative equity, and they can't pay their mortgages. Families who came over to work for companies which are now barely surviving. Who have taken two pay cuts in a year. Every family I know lives under the constant stress of their main wager earner losing their livelihood. Families going to Australia in their droves, leaving behind grandmas and parents and siblings.

We came home to Ireland 8 years ago. After years of living in the UK and travelling. It truly felt like a home coming. It was my dream come true to be finally living in the community of my birth, close to two sets of parents. But now I'm not so sure, almost everyday I wonder would the grass be greener elsewhere?

Welcome to the land of a hundred thousand broken dreams.

The Voice of the Child... Really?

Tomorrow we get to vote. In another flipping referendum. Ostensibly for 'the voice of the child'.

Who would oppose that, right?

But what ARE we voting on? And why? And why now?  In the midst of economic meltdown. On something that no one knew needed changing. And most importantly, why are ALL the political parties and large non-state agencies united in their support for it. That's just super-freaky!

We will be voting on a subtle change of words. The meaning of which none of us really knows. The power of which none of us understands.


All we know is that we don't trust the state. Don't want to sign any more potential power over to them.

Because, potentially, in the eyes of the state, mamas like me are suspicious and irresponsible. Mamas who choose to birth at home, to co-sleep, to long-term breastfeed. Mamas who question the current education system and are frequently late for school.  How hard would it be for the state to prove that those of us who follow the current findings of educational experts and brain scientists and our hearts, rather than half truths and blind prejudice which guide our institutions, are fit to be parents to our beloved offspring?

I asked one of the official yes campaigners what the point of it all was. She said it was partly to ensure that situations like the endemic abuse at the hands of the Religious and care homes in this country could never happen again.

But to be honest neither the law of the land, nor the Holy Bible said that beating and buggering innocent children was alright, ever...it was a lack of care and accountability, which tends to happen far more when children are separated from those who love them.
I don't know, but something smells fishy to me...

Down to the Bare Bones - Cutting (the fat of) Child Benefit

Let us take care of our children, for they have a long way to go.

Let us take care of our elders, for they have come a long way. 

Let us take care of those of us in between, for we are doing the work.

(Traditional Blessing)

This is my hope: in a culture of austerity may we not have a poverty of vision.

May we hold our values above our economics.

May we respect each stage in the journey of life as having value and dignity, and offer the support it needs, rather than resent each penny that is required.

May we not turn against each other in trying to find solutions.

Let us stop for a minute and look beyond the numbers, to the ambitions and basic needs of every family. Let us nurture the creation of healthy families, support their aspirations, regardless of their parental financial situation. Let us give every child, the same basic funding so that we know their basic needs can and will be provided, come what may. Let us value the next generation financially. Let us value the parents who care for them.

A hopelessly idealistic plea, you might think. But one for which I make no apologies, nor take any credit.

This is the vision of Child Benefit.  A Universal financial payment which has been supporting families for decades. (for a great explanation of what Child Benefit is and what's happening to it, see yesterday's post in our BlogMarch.)

And yet at exactly the time we need Child Benefit like never before, we are being chastened for being greedy and unrealistic in valuing what we have. What (in a good economy)  was thought of as a vital support for parents and children is now seen as a luxury (in a flat-lining economy), and one to which the rich are not entitled .... so nor should the poor or the squeezed middle be. We soon will have to prove that we deserve it, that we are poor enough, and jump through the hoops of the already creaking Family Income Supplement system to get less than what we already have...

How fair is that?

I am not going to give you a sob story about the choices we as a family make or the details of our personal finances. They are truly not your problem. Because I do not expect you, or the State, to take financial responsibility for me and my children.

Just like I do not expect to have to pay to bail out the banks. Or repay bond holders. But I have. And my cost of living has shot through the roof, as our means have declined. But market forces only work one way, it seems.


I want to live in a society which values - financially and morally - the needs and contributions of each sector of society from youngest to oldest - at their time of need. 

I thought I did. But I was wrong. 

I understand something: money is all that matters right now. The money for the party (of which my generation and my children's were not part of) has to come from somewhere. The bill has to be paid.

But why from those of us who are under the most pressure? Who are working to build our careers, care for small children and pay off mortgages?These children are our country's future and we the current economic powerhouse. We do not feel very powerful.

On Monday, the IMF admitted it completely underestimated the effects of austerity on the Irish economy. A new report showed that for every €100 of cuts, a knock-on €50 loss to the economy had been expected - through loss of employment and reduced spending.The reality was two-three times this.  

Let us not keep making these mistakes. Let us learn from the evidence.

The argument goes that Child Benefit is a luxury. Or that it funds luxuries. In a tough economy we need to learn to "man up" and realise that life is hard, which means cutting back the fat. Child Benefit is fat. Some are even suggesting that children are luxuries (I thought in Catholic Ireland they were supposed to be blessings from God, but what would I know?).

I see Child Benefit like this: if you benefit the family, you benefit the child, and you invest in the future. Cut the investment, limit the potential, pay later for the consequences... 

But we are so worried about now. About what if we can't pay the Troika, that we forget our future. We forget the value of our children and the families that are nurturing the future.

Children are one third of our population and all of our future.  

~Select Panel for the Promotion of Child Health, 1981

Meanwhile my children are aware that almost every time they ask for something the answer is always "sorry, no love, we just can't afford it right now." And so we focus on the luxuries that we can give them, the ones that money can't buy, and squash them into their shoes for a bit longer. And pray that no one gets sick in a way our skeletal medical insurance can't cover.

We are down to the bare bones. Our family. Our country. Where do we go now?

In the end it is down to numbers on a computer. Not lives or values. Just economic survival. 

And computer says no. 

So the numbers must be made smaller. What these numbers represent does not matter so much. The impact on lives, the hardship, the anxiety, the loss of opportunity...

Well computer, you know what? 

We say NO too.

10 Irish parenting bloggers have joined forces in a “BlogMarch” to raise awareness of the crippling impact that cuts to child benefit will have on Irish families if introduced in December’s budget. The bloggers are publishing a blog post each over ten days to highlight the negative impact that child benefit cuts will have, as well as spearheading a nationwide media campaign. 

To find out more about the campaign, see my post here

You can join us on the new Irish Parenting Blogs Facebook page here

And on Twitter with the hash-tag #blogmarch 

You can contact Joan Burton, minister in charge of child benefit: joan.burton@oireachtas.ie

You can find the email addresses of all current TD’s and Senators here

You can sign the petition against Child Benefit Cuts here

There is a march organised against cuts to Child Benefit planned for November 3rd in Dublin. Starting at Parnell Square, D1 at 12 noon here

Read the other Blog March posts

The post that inspired me to start this whole campaign off: Ciara @Ouch My Fanny Hurts: Where her mother says we all need to speak up 

Day 1: 'Child Benefit Stole My Child's Allowance' at  
The Irish Rhymes

Day 2  (Tuesday 9th):          The Clothesline Blog    
'Stuck In The Middle- No To Child Benefit Cuts' 
http://theclotheslineie.wordpress.com

Day 3  (Wednesday 10th):   Mind The Baby  
Leave Child Benefit Alone, Tax Maternity Benefit Instead          
http://mindthebaby.wordpress.com/

Day 4  (Thursday 11th):       Dreaming Aloud    
Down to the Bare Bones - Cutting (the fat out of) Child Benefit       
http://www.dreamingaloud.net/

Day 5  (Friday 12th):          The Daily Muttering        
http://thedailymuttering.blogspot.ie/

Day 6  (Saturday 13th):       Kate Takes 5                
http://katetakes5.blogspot.ie/

Day 7  (Sunday 14th):         Wholesome Ireland      
http://wholesomeireland.com/

Day 8  (Monday 15th):        Ouch My Fanny Hurts 
http://ouchmyfannyhurts.wordpress.com/

Day 9  (Tuesday 16th):        Wonderful Wagon      
http://www.wonderfulwagon.com/

Day 10 (Wednesday 17th):  Mama.ie                   
http://mama.ie/

The Irish namaste!

There is a custom here in rural Ireland. A quaint one, which speaks of a time when everyone knew everyone else. It is the culchie* salute - the greeting of country dwellers. Every driver greets every other driver, cyclist, pedestrian by raising their hand as they drive by. It is a custom of which I am very proud. It means we acknowledge each other, watch our speed, offer lifts to those who need them, flag down a friend for a brief chat or exchange of pleasantries...

It made me think of the namaste bow - the Buddha in me greets the Buddha in you but Cork-stylie...-the culchie in me greets the culchie in you!


*In Irish-English culchie is a term sometimes used to describe a person from rural Ireland. In Dublin, it is often used to describe someone from without the bounds of the 'M50' motorway. It usually has a pejorative meaning, but is also reclaimed by some proud of their rural origin, and may be used by either side in banter between town and country people. Generally the term is more humorous than abusive in rural areas, as opposed to the more offensive term "muck-savage". (Wikipedia)

A pot-tea place!

Since the closure of the Gallery cafe here in Shanagarry back in 2009, I have been bemoaning the lack of a local cafe which: a) was welcoming in atmosphere b) was affordable c) and child friendly d) served delicious home baked sweet treats e) provided paper entertainment for mamas and babas and f) had (bear with me here!) nice chairs!

What I want from a cafe is a home away from home. A place to go to chat with friends, to linger, and to treat myself and not have to clear up afterwards. I bake well at home, very well, so the cake has got to be better than what I can make, or at least different, to tempt me to pay.

So delight of delights in the new cafe at Stephen Pearce Pottery, which opened this week, which I hope will become a real community hub.

Colleen's Tea Room at Stephen Pearce Pottery really is a home away from home – if your home has a super-de-dooper coffee machine and you're a talented American baker. With crayons for the kids, magazines to read, garden flowers on the table, quality ingredients in the baking, comfy chairs, big welcoming wooden tables, and everything served in Stephen Pearce pottery – except the tea pots – Stephen doesn't “do” teapots! It has a short menu of sweet treats, proper tea and coffee, following my Grandmother Lucy's motto: simplify, simplify, simplify! No airs and graces, fancy table cloths, or squirty cream noisettes here, just the quality people have come to expect from Stephen Pearce and fair prices.

Giant American cookies (the plain simplicity of their names and appearances doesn't do justice to the quality of the flavour): choc chip and ginger snaps; granola bars packed with oats, pumpkin seeds, choc chips and moist with peanut butter; and marmalade cupcakes.

Outside a little terrace is under construction for sipping tea in the summer sun under the mature trees. If you're looking for me at any stage over the summer, you'll find me there!

If you're in the locality do stop by and support it. I want it to survive a long time, for purely selfish reasons. I want a local cafe to go to, and the Queen of Puddings might even do a little baking for it some time!

It's not easy being a blow-in

I have always struggled with my English versus Irishness. I own both passports. I have lived long term in both. But I am an outsider here, in the land of my birth.

I feel at home in the mystic landscapes of this island. Where I am most drawn to is this county in which I live, which has a long anglo-Irish history going back many hundreds of years. County Cork is known locally as The People's Republic of Cork - and really this is how it feels. Our own land. (We have a reputation, according to Wikipedia, for going on about how great it is... but it is!) The people of Cork are known as the Rebels, and that's what we are. The county has attracted a vast number of "blow-ins" over the years: a band of peaceful misfits, creatives, free-thinking land-lovers, hippies and cheese makers mainly from England and Scotland, and a good few Americans and Germans to boot.

A view of the Beara mountains from Bere Island where we were  just on holiday.

We love this place. We pay our taxes. We call it home. We help start schools, organise events, enrich our communities. But every time I, and every other person with an English accent opens our mouths we mark our card. We are blow-ins, we don't really belong. We are not from here. Sure, every culture, down to the smallest village has a version of "you're-not-from-here-itis". However, us English in Ireland have an extra black mark: we are, by dint of our heritage responsible for the crimes of our forebears: the house raids, battles, political domination, potato famine... I represent the unwanted oppressor, the colonist...

So it was not obvious that the visit by a little old lady with a bad taste in hats and handbags would make any difference to me... or all the other blow-ins who call this precious country home. And yet, it seems agreed by English and Irish alike, that the visit of the English Sovereign to this island last week sowed some seeds of peace, helping us to re-evaluate communally the damage of the past.  This seems to have begun to heal rifts and long-standing hurt. I am not saying that all the history will disappear overnight. But that it is being discussed, that wrongs are being acknowledged is a first step. As humans we have a poor track record of living peaceably together, of getting on with new arrivals into our countries, of forgiving and forgetting. I always was very proud of South Africa for instigating the Peace and Reconciliation tribunals - it was an act of extreme spiritual and political maturity. Would that all nations could follow suit.

May we work on sowing seeds of peace and reconciliation in our communities and families and extending a warm welcome to those who "aren't from round here"... long live the blow-in and all the gifts of diversity that they bring.

Fresh and good

Every time I feel too tired to cook I yearn for the wonderful takeaways we had on our travels in Australia - gorgeous fresh fruit salads with yogurt, fresh vegetarian Indian, Korean, Greek, smoothies, wonderful wholesome salads, sushi galore, stir fried noodles, all freshly made and bursting with nutritious goodness.

Our local take away options are, with the exception of Saturday pizzas on a saturday, X amount of greasy, MSG laden chinese or chippers. Nothing fresh and vibrant. I often despair. I don't want to cook, but I also don't want to serve my family something that unhealthy. It doesn't make me feel good on any level. And it's not even cheap!

However ethnic cuisines are few and far between in rural East Cork. Irish salads are of the limp wristed lettuce and green tomato type. And potato salad with bullet hard potato lumps, vinegary white mayo and too much onion, ditto the coleslaw. And that's it.

So hurray for the Village Greengrocers in Castlemartyr,(which is under new management) just ten minutes from the Pink House, where there is a selection of thirty or more freshly made salads favourites from the Avoca and Ottolenghi cafes: broccoli with feta and cherry tomatoes; mangetout with toasted almonds; puy lentils and peppers; proper potato salad; three different types of couscous; two varieties of carrot salad; three pasta salads all made in-house from their own produce. They also have a large amount of fresh baked cakes and breads, fresh roasted meat, real ham, as well as plenty of fresh fruit: local strawberries, blueberries, cherries, golden kiwis, apricots that you would not find in a supermarket. We stocked up and headed off for a picnic. I know where I'm going back to next time the healthy take away need occurs!

I have previously just popped in there to get fruit and veg, and maybe a loaf of bread. But their deli selection of jams, chutneys, cheeses, olives, and so forth is extensive. I had previously found them a little too pricey - now that the Celtic tiger has run away the prices are now extremely good value, for real food, fresh, nutritious and it hits the local shopping button too. Friendly staff always willing to carry to your car, and you can eat outside by the river or upstairs if you're not in a rush. They're Bridgestone award winners for 2011. Deservedly so. Hurray!

Want to read more Dreaming Aloud foodie posts, have you seen...
Gill's Secret Garden Supper Club (At Ballymaloe Cookery School)
A Life Affirming Luncheon (Saturday Pizzas)
A Cherry Blossom Picnic

And do visit my baking blog The Queen of Puddings for Rhubarb and Cardamom Upside Down Cake; Popple Cake; the best Gluten Free Chocolate Cake around; Red Velvet Cupcakes with White Chocolate Cream Cheese Icing; online baking stockists  and much, much more

Guest Blogger on The Anti-Room today

The election date is set. The parties have launched their election campaigns. Let the gender battle commence...How do you decide who to vote for?To read the full article visit:
http://theantiroom.wordpress.com/2011/02/04/guest-post-the-double-x-factor/

Just stopped by from The Anti-Room? Welcome to Dreaming Aloud! Here are some previous posts that might interest you:
Votes for Women
ANGRY!
A Sane Response to Crazy Times
This is our Moment
Call Yourself a Feminist?
Fleeing Vesuvius: Book review

ANGRY!

A response to the Budget announcement 

  'The biggest sting in today's budget will be felt by women with children', said Labour Party Finance Spokesperson Joan Burton. She said of the €2.1bn in cuts, €1.6bn would be borne by the areas of health, children and social protection. She said working people would do the heavy lifting in this Budget.

What did we do? We who were students during the Celtic Tiger? We who will not be able to afford to save for a pension, nor send our own children to university.

What did our children do that their school should get less money? When their parents are already filling the funding shortfall.
What did our family do to deserve to pay at least an extra €2000 in tax next year? On top of the extra taxes already levied on us over the past two years.
What did the poorest do to lose 15% of wage, every hour?
What did the sick do?
What did the carers do to lose 5% of their meagre income?

Be Prepared (Part 3): Instead of Money

Money, money, money
Always sunny
In a rich man's world

A little Abba to brighten your day!

Our global culture has moved from one in which indebtedness was considered a sin or a crime, to the past decade, where indebtedness became the norm. But now the chickens have come home to roost.

We are all plugged into the external economy and its impact can be damaging emotionally and financially for families. How can we make our families more resilient, so we can ride the economic turbulence with minimal suffering?

Multiple choice madness... a sane response to crazy times

We are living in crazy times. The Irish people want answers. No one in Government seems willing or able to provide them. So, here is your multiple choice way of dealing with the economic crisis. It's about as scientific and reliable as anything else going around at the moment ...