Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Just the Beginning?

I got lost on my way home from work today. Yes! Lost!

Considering I've now been living in Ballyfuck for the greater part of two years, this might come as something of a shock. Is it early-onset Alzheimer's do you think? Well, in the civil service, we're quite good at dribbling, so we're already some of the way there.

The road I take to work is a somewhat meandering, narrow, cross country route. Part of it is on high ground and retains the snow for several days after it has thawed completely in the village.

Wildlife is in abundance - I almost ran over a red squirrel a few weeks ago. Nearly crashed for the endangered little beastie. Luckily he got away while I tried not to flip the car over. I wondered which of us was the most endangered at that point.

Today, I am halfway home and am about to turn at the last unsignposted crossroads for Ballyfuck. I am full of good cheer due to clerical officers and HEOs having left me in peace for the whole day. As I approach the crossroads, I notice a big bastard of a truck indicating in the same direction as me. "Well, fucksocks", think I - given the windy narrow road ahead I am never going to get past that fucker whose top speed must be 20 miles per hour. And I am not a patient person. And I also like a clear view of the road ahead, unobsructed by smelly 40 foot wagons like the one I now see in front of me.

So I choose the road less travelled by and decide to follow my nose. It's a nice straight road and I notice a lady out walking. I take a turn onto a road that I think will lead me to Ballyfuck. And another turn. And another. Until I am on a shitty boreen with grass growing up the middle. And potholes so large they have memorials erected beside them for those road users who did not make it home alive. Gulp.

I reach yet another unsignposted junction and think that the road to Ballyfuck must be to the right. Is it arse. I meet the lady again, this time in the opposite direction. She waves cheerily to me. I don't ask for directions. I live around here for feck's sake!

I turn around and take a left. This shitty boreen is even shittier than the last shitty boreen. Because it is completely brown with the shitty splatterings from muck spreaders and cow anuses. The potholes have flames coming out of them and are marked with "Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here". Gulp.

This time I have got it right, for, as I round a bend I suddenly see the familar sight of the river just outside Ballyfuck. I press the accelerator gratefully. And then the brake, with terror. I am now looking right at a bale of silage being transported by a jolly farmer in a blue tractor which I recognise from yesterday's Paddy's Day Parade. It was a lot cleaner then. Thankfully he pulls into the side of the road to let me pass by. The remaining two miles are uneventful.

I hope I didn't knacker my suspensions. Because the bloody pensions levy has put paid to any pretensions I might have had towards a newer car. Or even just fitting my existing motor with an anti-tank gun mounted on the bonnet, so I can take out anything that's annoying me. The Bastards!

P.S. Just a thought: with all the ministers abroad on the national holiday, wouldn't it have been an opportune time to stage a coup d'etat and declare a second Republic?

No I couldn't have done it. I'm supposed to be impartial, and anyway I was having my tea.


galwaywegian said...

Boreen rage we call it in the wesht!

Songwraith said...

Imagine how difficult Ireland is to get around for those of us who don't speak the language!