Early Hospital Experiences

or

Those were the days, my friends

My earliest memories are of being in hospital.  I spent a lot of time there as a young child due to developmental acetabular dysplasia i.e. born with dislocated or 'click' hips.  These early memeories aren't unpleasant.  Every time someone came to visit me, they brought me a present.  This was mainly in the evening.

I rarely had visitors in the afternoon as my parents and other potential visitors worked.  I didn't mind (parents of young, sick children, take note) I didn't expect visitors, but when my Gran used her bus pass to make the trip to Dublin, it was an unexpected bonus.  I still remember one particular occassion when she brought me a packet of Jelly Tots.  I was young enough to still be in a cot, located on this occassion in the far corner of the ward, and I gleefully ripped open the packet and spilt them over the bed, setting up a game of Hide and Seek.  You become quite imaginative in your games when you're confined to bed!

There were unpleasant times of course.  I hated being on traction, forced to stay on my back for months, but it did leave me with the enviable skill of being able to eat and drink whilst lying flat on my back - a skill that would come in handy years later.

I still hate blood tests and injections.  My veins don't like them either.  For some reason, they hide whenever a needle comes into view.  I remember one time, I was in the bed beside the door and jerked as they were taking blood.  It got on the sheets and the Ward Nurse said I was to be left in the bloody sheets to be taught her lesson.  To my young eyes, the sheets were soaked in blood, but it was probably just a few drops.  I had nightmares for a long time after that.  That ward nurse was scary but the Sister was kindly.

The Adelaide was my home and at that time Jacob's Factory was still across the road from it.  We could look out the windows in the Children's Ward to watch out for the broken biscuits being sent over for our Tea.  Not that they like giving tea to the children.  I was the exception.  I horrified the nurses by asking for coffee at the tender age of 2 or 3 (blame my Gran), so tea was a compromise.

This was also the time of my first boyfriend, Jerome, an 'older man' by 3 years with similar issues to me but more complications.  I spent many a happy hour in his bed - playing with lego.  I was only a toddler!

Nights weren't too bad either.  There was a blue hue off the night lights and there was always a nurse at the desk in the corner with one of those bendy lamps.  I wasn't a good sleeper even back then, but I always found comfort and reassurance, glancing over to the nurse in the corner.

I got out of hospital around the time Elvis died.  I distinctly remember it being discussed on the radio and mistakenly thought he was King of Ireland.  Just a few days later I started Junior Infants, being carried as my legs still weren't strong enough for the stairs.  From one strange world to another!  Looking back at this time through adult eyes, it may seem very traumatic and even distressing to parents of young children.  For me, it was all I knew.  It was normal.  I couldn't imagine my pre-school years any other way.

11 Years On
or

Hear My Song

A lot of things have changed in the last 11 years.  11 years ago, you could go out to the pub any day or night of the week and find people to chill with.  11 years ago, you could have a smoke with your pint, in the warmth of your local and converse with people of all ages.  11 years ago, the Cush was still open.  Actually it was still open this time last year, but 11 years ago it was the old Cush, with the poker machine and video juke box.  Maybe not 11 years ago, but certainly 9 or 10 years ago I sang Meatloaf songs while dancing on the pool table to an audience chilled out on the tattered couches down the back of the pub. 



11 years ago, I was in the shower at about ten past seven in the morning when the 'phone rang and a part of me changed.  I put on a pair of black jeans, my docs and an Aran jumper, tried waking my brother and walked a short distance, three houses, down the road to gather with family, friends and neighbours.  And yes, I could walk back then, no problem.  And thus began a surreal week of waiting, self-conscious laughter, bikes, mass, a poem recited, Stairway to Heaven, music and beer.  And we didn't have to go outside to smoke.  We didn't go to the Cush that Wednesday, we settled in Martin's.

Now, even the road down to the village has altered.  For years, everything stayed the same on the Brownstown to Suncroft Road.  I remember my Granny saying nothing had changed in the last 30 years.  She passed away in 1990.  And things stayed the same for another decade and a half or so.  Now, not only are there new houses, there's new housing estates!  The house, known in my youth as Mrs Swinburns, is still boarded up as it has been ever since the fire.

Back then my (Dublin) friends were all single.  Now they're all married (or on their way!) except me.  No rush, I'm not ready to settle yet.  Most of my mates had not even met or hooked up with their spouse by then.  Now, babies have started to arrive.   People own houses.  A night out is a rare occassion and needs to be planned well in advance.  The last two times we met up we had dinner! In a restaurant! Not in the wee hours of the morning after a copious amount of drink, dancing and arguments over whether Luigis or Cascarinos had the best chips.

11 years ago, my Corolla was still a new car to be admired.  My hair was short as it is now, but hasn't been in the mean-time.  Every time I pass a mirror, it's a reminder.  My brother was living with me, in the midst of his Masters.  I hadn't yet started my Masters back then.  I finished it 5 years ago.  YouTube was three and a half years into the future.  We wouldn't have been able to use it even if it had been around - broadband was not widely available then.  I think it would be another 5 years before I was able to get it at home, although it was available in urban areas before then.  It would take another number of years before Bebo, MySpace, Facebook or Twitter came into being.  Bebo and MySpace have come and gone in the meantime.  Now, not only does everyone have mobile 'phones, increasing numbers are accessing the internet on their 'phones.

How different things were back then.  It wasn't my mobile that rang that Monday morning in 2001, it was the landline, in the bedroom.  A short time later, I 'accidentally' cut through the telephone cable in my room.  Forever more the landline would be confined to the hallway.  I never want to get a phone call at that hour again.

The UCD Bar has closed!

or

Students, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves!

 
Apparently the UCD Bar has closed.  I say apparently because although it was noticeably not open two weeks ago at 11am (ish) when I walked past it and even though it's been reported in the news, I still can't get my head around it.

Hanging out in the Science block

What is college without the dark, dingy, sticky-floored, graffiti-covered home-from-home that was the UCD Bar.  Students in my day didn't have much spare cash.  Then, as now, part-time jobs were like gold dust, but that never stopped anyone hanging out in the bar and there were always enough foolish cluchies there to spend their grant or rent money and keep the coffers going.

Where we used to play football (& pose!)

The Sports Bar (currently also closed) opened when I was in college but it was for a different breed.  People who went there had new-ish, clean-ish closes, drank Heineken, and probably went to private schools (and play sports possibly, I didn't mix with that type of person in college).  Compare this to the torn, stone-washed jeans, ragged t-shirts and docs that was the uniform de rigeur for the majority of the student population in those days.  We drank (if we could scrounge the cash, often saved by walking the 4+ miles to college and saving the £1 bus fair - yes my friends, this was back in the days of the punt!) Guinnes and Black, a Snakebite, or the ever-popular, why I have no idea, hot port.

Typical student attire, 90s-style

he bar was a place you could relax, play pool or meet new people, "oh you do Law!  What's that all about then?".  Law was about as exotic as it got in the UCD bar.  The newly formed Actuary class never seemed to find their way there.  On Fridays, at 1pm there was a film.  Not for us a specially built cinema.  There was a projector and a large screen on the wall.  They always seemed to show either Grease or The Blues Brothers and we'd all dance on the tables and shout out the dialogue, word-perfect the lot of us.  Most of us weren't even drunk!

The Trap has also disappeared from UCD.  I found it alright, in the basement of the Arts block but the pool tables have gone, the paint on the walls in crumbling and the space itself is filled with cleaning materials.  Where are students supposed to relax, wind-down and learn about life?  The only things that seem to remain are the Blob and the lake.  Even the grass where we used to kick around a football on lazy warm days has been built over.

Do they still have leg wrestling in college?

There's also a distinct lack of graffiti around campus.  UCD has lost its soul.  The graffiti brightened up the place and while some of it was dull and predictable, there was a lot of poetry, wit a philosophy sprinkled in.

I discussed the bar closing in work and one colleague postulated the theory that the Celtic Tiger Cubs won't stand for dirt and dinge and sticky floors.  A quick look at a discussion forum on Boards seems to confirm this.  They've been too pampered and spoiled and the UCD bar isn't good enough for them.  They don't want their designer gear in such a dump.


I, however, have my own theory.  One of the reasons that the UCD bar always had such a high turnover was because of its toilet paper.  In the early 1990s, the toilet paper in UCD was that waxed, grease-proof stuff that, to put it as politely as is possible, basically smeared, but failed utterly in the wiping department.  The only place to go for a bit of bum comfort was the Bar and Sports Centre.  In those days of grunge and Nirvana, the Sports Centre wasn't an option for most students who would probably not made it past its doors, so the UCD Bar it was.  And while you were there, sure you'd always find someone to talk to or catch up with, and if you really lucky you might have the makings of a cup of tea, or may even alcohol buried deep in your tattered jeans pocket.  That's what made the UCD Bar, once with the highest beer turn-over in the country,  the instiution we thought would never end, but has somehow, inexplicably done so in 2012.  A sad day for the students of Ireland.

Science-heads

Chemistry lecture in Theatre C

* Disclaimer - None of these pictures are actually of the UCD bar.  Back in the day, if you wanted to take a picture, you needed a dedicated camera and you had to buy film for it and pay for the film to be developed.  Hence the lack of photographs I have from my student days.  While I'd love to claim we drank every day in the science block, all these photos are from Science Day - an annual fundraising day where we bunked off lectures to raise money for Cancer research.  I think we raised over £30,000 most years I was there.  We did, however, smoke in the science block - the smoking ban was not to come in for over a decade,  Cigarette burns complemented the colourful graffiti on the benches, tables, chairs, walls,.....

Halcyon Nights

or

What's the big deal with sunsets?

One thing that has always puzzled me is the romanticism of sunsets, sunrise and star gazing.  I've often wondered if people genuinely were in awe of them or is it a myth propogated by Hollywood, similar to the notion that everyone will fall in love with the perfect partner and live happily ever after.

Don't get me wrong - sunsets, sunrise and the stars on a clear night can take your breath away and make you pause and take in that perfect moment.  But getting up early to catch the dawn or planning to watch the sunset has always seemed a bit excessive.

Sunset reflected in window

I had come to the conclusion that this is due to our climate.  Star gazing is all well and good but Ireland is too cold and damp to lie out all night holding hands with your lover, having deep philosophical discussions that in the sober light of day you realise equated to talking shite.  And that's if you're looking enough to pick a night sky that isn't obscured by clouds.

Notwithstanding that, it is possible to wrap up warm and appropriately to feast your gaze on the night, dusk or dawn sky.  Indeed, I have on occassion driven deep into the Wicklow mountains, sometimes even accompanied by a telescope or binoculars to view particular astronomical events like a meteor shower.

Sunset 18th August 2012, Kildare

Somehow I never managed to sit through a sunrise or sunset though.  It took a trip to Eqypt over ten years ago to really figure out why.  In Ireland, the sunset, quite simply, lasts too long.  It's not the climate after all, it's our latitude!  If you sit out to watch the sunset in this country, you could be there for an hour and a half.  Where would you find the time?  And it's even worse in parts of northern Scotland where it never quite gets dark around the summer solstice.  In Egypt, the whole thing happens in about 10 minutes.

Admittedly I've had a few good sunrise moments.  There's nothing better than wandering home of an evening, spotting the dawn approaching and lying down on a patch of grass for a while to take it in.  It's the measure of a good night out in the summer.  Somehow, it doesn't seem to happen too often these days.  Must be growing up or something...