Archive for May, 2006
Back when I was liberated, I felt as if a great weight had been lifted. Then, some currently website-less supposedly multi-national crowd come in and swipe my domain name! Shocking stuff indeed. Whipped it right out from underneath the very hairs on my very nose. Shocking lack of sportsmanship there Brian old bean. Theft? From a supposedly reputable web development company too.
GoDaddy weren’t much help either. Passed from one department to another and never emailing the same customer service rep twice. Again, shocking stuff. So unlike my new friend Brian in Screendragon (whom I will no doubt visit in the near future to discuss some business with), I choose to be graceful and dignified in defeat. No resorting to mud-slinging or other displays of similarly ungentlemanly shenanigans. Away to you vile domain name, and never darken my door again!
But alas, all is not well. No longer than 48 hours after it was pinched from my own GoDaddy account, some vile internet prankster has well and truly hacked the ex-website. This must be a shockingly poor tasted display of those “internet hackers” Liam had always referred to. I never once believed until now. I imagined that hackers, as depicted in many Hollywood films, were consigned to folklore in the 1990′s. Not so it would seem.
The vile sleeze-merchants have only gone and re-directed the once reputable domain name lynchauctioneers.com to some aged lady brandishing her breasts for the viewing delights of all and sundry. Truly dispicable! Yet another show of bawdy sportsmanship and true lack of proper upbringing if ever I saw it. I can only imagine that the parents of the scoundrel are crying into their cornflakes.
Before I resort to some truly poor language and a show of utter tomfoolishness, I can only register my utter disappointment at the treatment that www.lynchauctioneers.com has suffered. Truly, Lynch & Co did not deserve such ill-mannered treatment. I feel I have to retire to my bed as I have taken ill and a queer shade of green with the sight of that site.
Once again, curse you, internet hacker…. Wherever you are…
Because I so rarely have time to take photos during the week, I decided to take a few quick snaps with my trusty camera phone on one of my fairly regular tours around various locations in Ireland. See, I’m a field engineer by trade and I often get stuck out for a few days on the trot. All the more reason I’ve been meaning to get a very compact camera to take with me. I could take the 20D, but that’s just another bag to haul around. Nothing too emotionally stimulating here, just a few shots I thought I’d upload to flickr so it actually looks like I’m doing something…
It all started on Monday evening in Wexford. There’s nothing like only arriving on site at the time you’d normally be crashed out on the couch at home after a long days work. While waiting for a DAT drive to do it’s thing, I strolled around the yard and spotted this scene on the other side of a menacing fence. Finally got moving at 9pm.
Arrived in Kilkenny (following some bad directions of epic proportions) at around 11pm. Give or take. Missed Lost on TV, spent an hour or so praying that my sister taped it. I’ll find out tomorrow. Stayed in the above; Lyrath Estate Hotel on the Dublin road. Should have stayed in Wexford but was itching to find out what this place was like. Big & posh. They seem to have lost some of the friendliness somewhere along the road to building a big & posh hotel. Ah well. No room service when I arrived, gotten too used to 24 hour room service elsewhere. Starved for a few minutes before deciding to ration out the cookies on the tea tray. Possibly good for a mother of a naughty weekend. By my reckoning, you’d comfortably fit 5 people in the shower.
Day 2 of the Irish Rail train drivers strike. Or so you’d imagine. Possibly one of the only trains running in the entire country and I get stuck by it. Almost got caught by it again but I just escaped the wrath of the level crossing. How and ever, I did get caught by the same train again before reaching my destination.
Could I be correct in labelling my journey as one of the most bloody awkward in the land? Kilkenny to Ballina. Very few major roads. Essentially going the wrong way across the country for a few hours. Turns out it took around 4.5 hours to do the trip.
The view from my hotel room in the Ridgepool in Ballina. Well, I say room… It was actually a suite Don’t even ask how I swung that one. More good luck than dirty dealing. Unfortunately not too impressive, much like Ballina itself. No offence to anyone from there, well.. anyway…
A games room, apparently! I only stayed for one game…
The week was now starting to drag on and on and on and it was only Wednesday morning. I had to get to Letterkenny fairly sharpish to install a server. I had one of those “if I had only” moments on the way up there. Bought lunch and filled up the car at Statoil in Sligo and promised myself I’d stop around Donegal and eat it. Didn’t. Wish I had. Instead of only being a close spectator to a road accident, I almost had a starring role. A car, driven by an old man, pulled into a side road passed Ballybofey whereupon it was clipped on the back wheel by a woman overtaking. His car spun, made shit of the back of it. I was two cars behind. After thinking “fuck it I hope he’s alright” I thought “I wish I stopped in Donegal”. Ended up being late to Letterkenny as I had to wait for the Gardai (whom I rang) to arrive. Took them 25 minutes. Odd, seeing as we were only about a 5 minute drive from Letterkenny. The ambulance turned up about 10 minutes later, lucky nobody was seriously hurt.
Even though I wasn’t actually involved, I found it hard to concentrate during the remainder of the drive into Letterkenny. I even found it bewildering the next morning on the drive back to Sligo. Like I had to be extra careful. Weird. That’s why there isn’t a photo from Letterkenny. I was concentrating on getting back, as least as far as Sligo anyway.
Put in a quick appearance at my appointment in Sligo, got the job finished quick so I was back on the road to Cork by lunchtime. Hurrah!
The fact of the day from Tuam. Proudly displayed thanks to a recently opened bottle of Snapple. Thankfully, the majority of the drive home was uneventful. The odd battering of rain and black cloud, like the one below from the Ennis road, threatening to dump a few million gallons of acidic h20 onto my lovely new(ish) car.
Finally got home at the reasonable hour of 6pm, after battling traffic around Mayfield and the Jack Lynch tunnel for the bones of 40 minutes. Some bad vibes must have followed me from Letterkenny as on my way into Charleville in north Cork, it appeared a French truck driver had slid across the busy road and ploughed through the ditch. Despite the dramatic condition of the truck, I can only imagine the driver escaped serious injury. Odd, I thought, that I should see two accidents in the space of two days. I hardly ever see that kinda stuff. The worst news? It’s only Thursday and there’s a whole other day of work tomorrow! Another one of those “If I had only” moments. If I had only stayed in Galway tonight and came home tomorrow morning! Gah…
This is just one of these kind of “isn’t it wonderful” posts. Nothing too factual or interesting about any of this. No photographs either. Anyway, put yourself in the following situation…
You design websites, only work on a few because it’s time consuming. One of your clients, lets say… someone in some way involved in some currently booming industry, has been an immeasurably awkward fucker since they day he first signed a contract. That was (give or take) six years ago. Every year you promise yourself you’ll drop him, as the amount of hassle you’re getting isn’t worth the piffling amount of money the contract brings in. You picture how you’ll do it and rehearse the speech every time you walk into his office. Every year it takes no fewer than ten visits to his office to get paid. Each time you get fucked around and told to come back in a few days. You get verbally abused and bullied, up until the point where you walk out slightly richer and waiting for the same time next year to come around.
Picture a group of people that can’t for the life of them figure out how to fix any problems of their own creation. People who depend on you for their every action. If you weren’t at the other end of the phone 24/7, they may forget how to breathe. People that can’t understand why you aren’t at their beck and call constantly and won’t pay for re-training and other non-support callouts.
Then, one day, while out doing your 9 to 5 job you receive a call. It’s the man himself, disgruntled and ignorant as usual, wondering why his website is down. You explain the concept of no payment no service, his annual contract having expired 14 days beforehand. He explains he paid last year. You sigh heavily, laugh a little then explain the term ‘annual’. He becomes audibly very annoyed and demands to see you. You explain you’re currently 250 miles away performing your job and won’t be able to make it. He wants the website re-activated. You explain (several times) that once you are paid for services, the website will be active immediately. That doesn’t go down well. The usual 15 minutes of swearing starts.
You take it very slowly, calmly and patiently, explaining the concept of annual payments, support contracts and why you de-activated the website. No joy. More swearing and demands of action. You start thinking that you’d like to see who’d win in a battle of arrogance & loudmouthedness (is that even a word?) between this guy and Rev. Ian Paisley. Possibly this guy.
Suddenly, 20 minutes into the phone call, you have an epiphany! You’ve been trying to get rid of this wanker for years. This isn’t only the perfect opportunity, it’s a chance to go out in a blaze of glory. Your glory that is. The next sentance that comes out of your mouth will live forever. “Tell you what, the best thing you can do now is go and FUCK YOURSELF”. You hang up, laugh for 2 minutes non-stop and then bask in the warm glow you have created inside your brain. You spend the next 20 minutes wishing you were a fly on the wall of his office, watching the crimson red vein popping out of his neck.
He rings back the following evening to lay down the law. He’s not given the chance. You let rip. He’s told that you’ve wanted to drop him for years and you’re far better off without him and his ridiculously small annual payment. He says he won’t be spoken to like that. You point out that he’s been speaking to you like that for years. He goes off on a tangent about people owing him money. You say you don’t care. He instructs you to come into the office and collect a cheque. You say thanks but no thanks. Another tangent. Finally, and before you hang up again, you say that if you ever hear his voice on the phone again, you’ll hang up.
You take his recently renewed domain name and ponder on pointing it toward a website that caters primarily for some kind of beastiality and/or necrophelia fetishes.
After a good tip on where to shoot a field of rape(seed), I finally bothered to do it.
This is in & around Currabinny, Co. Cork. Head towards the woods and you can’t miss it. Just wear some good shoes, the hike up to the field is a rocky one. Also, if you run into the locals, don’t fret. They’ll just look at you like you’ve got three heads, just like they did to me when I explained that I wanted to take a few photos of the field.
Following some good advice, I spent a good portion of last Saturday at Garrettstown beach. The start of the day seemed rather uneventful. It was bitterly cold, hugely windy and the waves were very scrappy/patchy. Not conditions similar to other more eventful trips to Garrettstown. Nevertheless, I stuck around for a few hours; until my grumbling stomach finally got the better of me and I thought I’d retreat for some munchies. How and ever, as it sometimes does, things improved infinitely. On driving past the other end of the beach, I spotted a few lads unrolling and setting up various sails. Aha. Windsurfing! Not only that, kite surfing also! Jackpot…
I’ve wanted to try my hand at kite surfing photography for months. Possibly even longer. Last Saturday could not have presented any better an opportunity to do exactly that. It was a great buzz to photograph, I can only imagine what it’s actually like to be on the board! Thanks to all the lads, kite and wind surfers, that put on such a good show and didn’t once ask why exactly it was that I was standing on the beach pointing a lens towards them. As you’d expect, there are a few more on flickr.
Just before I’m unceremoniously ejected from the bloggie fraternity for lack of posting, I thought I’d stick this one in. It’s a few of the drag racing that took place in Oldchapel, Bandon a couple of weeks back. Typically enough, I arrived well into the event and as such stood no chance whatsoever of getting a decent spot from which to take photos. Add to that the fact I didn’t really feel like being “mr. pushy photojournalist man” and asking people to move so I could steal their spot. Well, that and I didn’t want to get laid out on my back after a slap from a biker after I took his spot. So here you are, make of these what you will..
Sadly, and it was bound to happen eventually, I have discovered the limits of my 5fps 20D. The frame rate just isn’t suitable for high speed motorcycle racing. Then again, what is? I really wanted to hang around and get more panning shots, but the crowd just wouldn’t allow it. Ah well. These shots are also on flickr.