My mind is like my fridge. Everything is properly compartmentalised and tidily arranged in neat little lines.
There’s very little in the fear compartment, I’m pretty fearless. Well, naturally, I’m afraid of spiders, but otherwise, I can’t think of a single thing I find fearful. It’s probably because at this stage in my life, every awful thing that could happen, already has. I’ve been robbed, mugged, cheated on, libelled, swindled, burgled, had my car twice set on fire outside my door, lost most of my bitcoin to the MT Gox debacle and even had someone die in my arms, and I’m still standing. What’s there to fear?
Being a grumpy old woman, I hate many things: authorities, children, cats, arrogance and people who speak slowly. You know I have to listen to most podcasts at double speed. If I have to pick a pet hate, though, it’d be stupid people, and gawd knows there are lots, many of them in politics.
We had a terror incident in Dublin last week when two men had their throats cut as they stood in their (respective) doorways. A government spokesman said, ‘Unfortunately, they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.’ You couldn’t make it up.
It’s not that I’m so clever; it’s that everyone else is so stupid, with the exception of you, dear reader.
After seeing It's a Wonderful Life at an impressionable age, it’s been my life’s ambition to be useful and to have it make a difference that I’ve lived. Thus, I was quite gratified that when I returned to Dublin after years abroad and met a few of my ex-employees in the street, they immediately launched into how good it had been to work with me and what a positive influence I’d been on their lives. Of course, they could have been telling fibs.
I love to laugh and try to find humour in everything. I mean, when you find yourself in clown world, what can you do but clown around? Not everyone finds me funny, but as a rule, the cleverer the person, the more amusing they find me.
I have failed at many things, including yoga, tai chi, dancing and being a boy soprano. But I don’t let that phase me. I simply blame someone else and move on. If I had to admit to one failure, it would be my inability to read people, which has proved something of a handicap.
I hope that I’ll live ’til I die with a bang falling off my climbing rope in the gym, aged 97, but I’ll probably end up drooling in a nursing home with my arse being wiped by some robot.
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The images are random snaps taken on Dublin streets and do not necessarily reflect my opinions
