After a long and slightly torturous journey (Dublin’s rush hour traffic isn’t fun) here I am in Killkenny getting ready for WordCamp Ireland.
Due to the traffic I arrived at the speakers dinner just in time for coffee which was a bit shit, but after some quick introductions I was dragged off to take part in Chaos Thaoghaire, which is one part story telling, one part pub quiz, and a whole lot of deviousness and fun. Or as they describe themselves: “Dedicated to the earnest pursuit of ludicrous things”.
Unfortunately ten hours of travel had left my brain feeling like a wrung-out mop so I couldn’t bring my “A Game” (as they like to call it) and pretty much vegged in the corner nursing a pint of Guinness. Apologies to the Chaosettes, I was having a good time even though it may not have looked like it. The story about the scavenger hunt and the potato carved in the shape of a penis was a definite highlight.
There’s a wedding in the hotel tonight which, as with most weddings, is playing some horrendously cheesy music very loudly. Thank god for headphones. So here I am, raiding the mini-bar and desperately trying to finesse my talk ready for Sunday, full of excitement and terror all at the same time. As much as I get a kick out of public speaking, it still scares the crap out of me. Nerves are healthy though.
Oh, and apropos of nothing, this hotel room is bloody huge!
Remembering
My granny died yesterday.
She was an inspiration to me.
Not who she was in her later years. It’s horrible to say, but I found it difficult to relate to the frail person that I saw when I was back home visiting.
It’s horrible, but it’s the truth. Parkinson’s is a shit.
I mean the version of her from when I was young and still trying to work out my place in the world. The woman who one day, whilst walking me home from school, and after repeated questions from a twelve year old me, told me it was okay to not believe in a god.
She was a devout Catholic.
She told me it was okay to not believe.
My memories of her are as inexplicably bound with the imagery of the Roman Catholic Church as they are with the smell of her cooking.
She taught me to think for myself.
She showed me my place in the world.
Thank you Gran. I’ll miss you.