I think the best thing to do with the idiot in the shredded green dress is ignore her. Sheās just looking for attention, the best thing to do is deny her it, then sheās go away.
Very sound. Plus I enjoyed Mary Lou McBomber being so pissed off 
Goodness she looks rough. Though Sinn Fein could teach Reform a thing or two about dodgy funding
Iām all in favour of a united Ireland, when the savages on both sides of the divide up north have calmed down. It should be penciled in for 2050, at the earliest.
It is indeed logical, Captain. Thankfully sectarianism seems to be much less of a thing in the North than it used to be (or else we just hear less about it) and the South has got somewhat less strictly Catholic and reactionary too.
Or at least thatās how it seems to me from outside.
I have never visited the Republic (must do that sometime!) but I always loved going to Belfast back in the day when I was running software training courses, always got a warm welcome.
I am sure you would love it CM, my advice is donāt delay and go.
I have been there many times in the course of my driving career and have lots of stories of the friendliness which I encountered.
Hereās one. I arrived at the closed gates of a large trouser manufacturer in Galway, after normal hours. As I wondered where I could park for the night, not easy with 18 metres, a man came out of a side door. Assuming he was the gatekeeper I explained my mission and asked if he knew of somewhere locally where I could park and eat for the night.
In answer, he opened the gates so I could drive in and directed me down to a portion of the yard, close to the unloading bay, where I could park. āAnd when you have done that, walk back up here and through that door and I will get you a cup of teaā. This I did and then found I was in the canteen. The āgatekeeperā was behind the counter pouring tea for us both and lifting tea towels off a marvellous array of food, both savoury and sweet for me to choose from. I did and offered to pay but he would have non of it and instead soon said ātake your time, no rush and when you are finished donāt worry about the door, Iāll see to that when I leave.ā He then left with apologies saying āI must get on I have next years budgets to sort outā.
My gatekeeper cum canteen server was, in fact, the Finance Director. 
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Agreed. For beautiful landscape head west to the Ring of Kerry. Avoid holiday seasons. We stayed near Killarney and Muckross House and Lake (all the lakes are wonderful). We found empty beaches where the dogs could run and run. We walked and walked.
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Those were the days David. You wouldnāt recognise Galway now 
Iāve many happy memories of the City, starting from staying in the centre of the town in the Great Southern Hotel on Eyre square for the 1983 Galway rally. Itās now an overrun tourist spot like too many places in Europe.
I am sure you are right, but I wouldnāt recognise it anyway. I arrived at the outskirts from the north and headed for the centre. After wriggling lorry and trailer through narrow streets I found myself on the ring road/by-pass. Turning left on a whim, there was the factory. All I was doing was seeking a place big enough to park and ask, and there it was.
BTW, I think this would have been the '80s and Iām sure I spotted you. Itās the ears that give you away. 
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In my case it was '73 
During "the troubles " I had to take some current measurements in the River Foyle in Derry/Londonderry in connection with a bridge construction. This involved readings on the high Spring Tide repeated later on the low Neap Tide.
We towed our survey launch there via Holyhead. Waiting in the queue for the ferry, a scruffy youngster said hello and started chatting. Friendly at first, his questions were getting rather pertinent so I eventually told him to mind his own business. He then pulled out his ID revealing he was a member of army intelligence.
We drove North, crossing the border at Newry. As we approached we were observed through the binoculars of a uniformed personnel at the top of a watch tower. I wound down the car window and answered a barrage of questions before driving to Derry to take our firsts set of readings.
Having nothing to do for two weeks until the Neap Tide, and a boat thoughtfully filled with fishing tackle, we headed for the West Coast to a tiny place called Downings. We stayed in a B & B whose tel number was Downings 01. It was also the local telephone exchange which consisted of a plug board on the kitchen table. We had a superb time fishing by day and drinking and singing by night.
The trip between Derry and Downings involved another border crossing each way where we answered the same barrage of questions. We completed the Neap Tide observations in Derry and returned to UK by the same route by which we had arrived.
When we arrived at the Newry checkpoint I wound down the window ready to answer the inevitable questions. A soldier put his head through the door and asked āenjoyed your fishing lads?ā and checked the car boot surprised to find more ice packed fish than survey equipment. Despite the questions they knew exactly who we were, what we were doing, where, and when.
The sequel to the story was when I returned the car (which I had borrowed ) to a friend I forgot to mention the load of fish I had left in the boot as a thank you present.
Our escort to get to work
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My introduction to the British Army in NI was similarly anxious. Driving along a country road in the North towards the South I was stopped abruptly by masked men emerging from the hedges pointing machine guns at me.
They had apparently been alerted by the very prominent Twin Fire Stick CB antennae on my mirror arms. My first alarm was assuaged when I recognised them as soldiers and relaxed thinking that as soon as they heard my Notts accent they would be nice to me. Not a bit of it, bad tempered and surly they rummaged the cab, and me, before begrudgingly sending me on my way.
I left feeling almost betrayed but later realised the strain they must be under every minute of every day.
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Great story Mik. Itās amazing to think what we took in our stride in those dark days.
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Late to the party, Iāve caught up and really enjoyed your irish tales (and Davidās too).
My comment is, as an auditor (forumites, look up the meaning!) and former teacher I totally commend and agree with your post which perhaps got a little lost in the thread. Many forumites display a wonderful ability to respond with understanding to others - they are listening - some maybe less so.
I reckon there are many people on here who read (listen) and understand, without feeling a need to respond or ājump inā. Though maybe not good for āchurnā!
While replying to you, can I just also respectfully ask is everything OK now with the eye, (?) your ear of course seems still finely attuned. I read your posts, I didnāt see a need to jump in, was thinking of you anyway. Best regards. 
Thread drift alert. I didnāt want to ignore larkswood 12s comments but in true SF tradition this answer is way off subject.
My comment, about listening being difficult, comes from an accidental learning. Years ago, as a result of a chance meeting with a CEO of a large company in some remote mangrove swamps in West Africa, I found myself wanting to know if there was any science behind hypnosis (a very long story). I enrolled at a school of hypnosis and learnt as much as I could. Every other student was there to learn the therapy side of hypnosis so I couldnāt help picking up some of that wisdom too.
A hypnosis client seeks help with a āpresenting problemā. It may be, for example, they want help to give up smoking. The āpresenting problemā is rarely the problem that needs dealing with. The therapist should meta question the client and listen to the answers. A good therapist will listen to those answers to shape his next questions to dig a bit deeper into the cause of the problem. Itās like peeling an onion layer by layer. I observed that not many of the students had this ability and would rush in with scripted routines to stop the smoking habit.
However, the gifted therapists who really could listen would get to the root of the problem and suggest a constructive way forward (which may or may not involve quitting smoking)
People with the gift of listening make the best therapists (and teachers)
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I have mentioned this before here but it is worth repeating for interest as you mentioned smokers losing the habit. My late wife Fran received one benefit from her descent into vascular dementia, she forgot she was a smoker. I had been trying to wean her off the weed for years by buying all her cigs weekly and giving her a packet a day, no more, and one day she simply stopped asking. Until after a year or so later she suddenly said āwhereās my cigarettesā and I gently reminded her that she didnāt smoke, that she had long given up. That satisfied her and she didnāt ask again. 
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What kind of problem was found to be at the root? was it, for example, displaced anger or stress overload?
There is absolutely no way to predict the root cause Karen, which is why listening is important. I will give an interesting example.
Whilst at the School of Hypnosis I was staying in a B & B. A guest there was a schoolās examiner. He was a very well educated and intelligent individual. He listened to why I was there with some incredulity. He jokingly asked if I could help with his onychophagia. Not being having a medical background I asked what on earth that was. He explained that he compulsory bites his finger nails to the quick. I had no idea it was even a medical problem but with plenty of optimism I got started.
The technique I used was to talk him back into describing his childhood to a point where he had not started biting his nails (regression)
Then I persuaded him to imagine that child was here with him today and to have a conversation with his younger self (Gestalt).
I put out two chairs. One for him and the other empty for the child. I then asked him to ask his younger self anything he wished. Then swop chairs and answer those questions. Of course, he looked at me as if I was bonkers. āJust humour meā I said āand pretendā. He started slowly and every time he turned my way to seek assurance, I said āDonāt tell me, tell himā, pointing at the empty chair. Eventually, he stood up and said āthatās it, I understandā and rushed off to tell his wife.
To this day I have no idea what āitā was but the story that emerged left me in tears.
He was born in Ireland to a large but poor family. His parents chose him to go off and become a priest. He was sent to Priest School to study. On the first day of the new intake he arrived and started unpacking in the dormitory. He only had a few second-hand clothes in a cardboard suitcase. The other boys seemed to have expensive clothes in stylish luggage. He decided to hide his embarrassment by not making friends and to help in this he started biting his nails to the quick to make himself less interesting.
I have no idea what occurred in that school examiners head. He was gone in the morning but left a note under the wipers of my car thanking me for the immense help I had given him and for listening. I never heard from him again but I like to think he now has nicely manicured nails.
Sorry for the rambling post but as my daughter keeps pointing out, I am now in my anecdotage.
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Please keep them coming, @Mik_Bennett .
Iām struck by how pretty much all of what you did was plain common sense (which is a rare commodity).
And plainly, from your example (and in my experience), the gift of listening goes hand-in-hand with that of asking questions.
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Good for him. Gut Westminster, gut Whitehall .
āāHis diagnosis is completely wrong, his theory of growth is completely wrong, he thinks that if government spends more money, we will all get richer - that is not how this works,ā she saidā
Kemiās grasp of the Ladybird book of economics is still wanting. After 14 years of implementing ānot how it worksā policies and with a (even revamped) front bench that couldnāt organise a piss up in a brewery she bullshits away, Maybe realising the UK is in trouble and that cross party cooperation, not confrontation, is required might make her more credible.
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Coincidentally todayā¦