Sunday, 14 August 2016

The Hall!!!

It looks neat now, and quite ordinary, but you should have
seen the before shot.
The thing now is that there is a place for everything and
everything has it place. And more importantly, I
know this, which means i know EXACTLY where to replace things
if they are taken out and left lying about.

Since we got the conservatory, the hall has been neglected. From time to time, maybe, once a year, I would do something about it, but it would not last very long. This was because cleaning something is not the same as making it fit for purpose. The hall, was not fit for purpose.

Things were just very disorganised, even after the clean, after the clean, it would just slowly sink back into the primordial mess it was and stay that way until I sorted it out next year.

I was motivated to do the hall because I saw a mouse yesterday in it. Now, it was no longer acceptable to have a place which the mice could hide out in because I had not sorted it out yet. So i took to the hall like a demon, and yesterday i didn't only clean it, I also organised it.

The big issue with halls are shoes. Shoes need to be very neatly staked, matched and WORN. Yesterday I threw away about six pairs of shoes. Some too small, some worn out. In fact, there was this pair which i had not thrown out for sentimental reasons. It was beyond fixing or wearing, a pair of leather shoes, and i had actually forgotten that they existed, until i saw them again, and then I thought, no, you guys have to go. And go, they went. I threw away some very worn shoes which the boys had, and I also threw away shoes they could not wear anymore.

Then I went threw the coats and jackets. I didn't throw away any of those, but I did clear out their pockets and instead of hanging them up by their necks, i hung them up using coat hangers.

I have hung up all the helmets on the wall under the stairs

The question was, what would I do with the bike helmets and riding hat? They always were bulky and took up too much space on the coat hangers? So I made a little wall of them. Instead of the shoes occupying both sides of the wall, I put them all on the one side, and now there was space for the hoover to live in the hall, finally the hoover has a home! Then I also hung up the paneers and the picnic blanket, moved a picture around, nailed the mail basket to the wall so it wouldn't fall off and did the same with the key holder. And now everything is perfect. I only need some hanging ivy for the shelf and we are complete. And a pot plant on the floor. A tallish one.

One of the delights of cleaning up is discovering
or rediscovering things which I have had and can now use nicely.
I cleaned these statues and they represent the two boys -
Ghin is called Metta and Oisin is Shiva.
The shield Ghin made and the mask Peter made for Ghin,
one Halloween.
To date all the cleaning and tidying has cost me nothing,
apart from my labour.
So, i don't understand what has happened to help me suddenly understand the principles of organising things? What has taken place there? How come I have managed to finally understand how to place things so that they take up least space and look good. In fact, Oisin said, this house feels so much bigger now, he said, which is the biggest compliment which anyone could give another person who is tidying up the place. It feels bigger. You have created space.

I relocated this picture which Peter bought from New York,
and also relocated and nailed the key holder properly so that it no longer fell off.
The shelf on top will now hold ivy and spider plants.

I felt very excited when i dusted off the paneers, I want to cycle again, i told myself. I'd really like too do that once more. There were other things which I recovered. Like some binoculars and I have put them into the kitchen, were we are most likely to see birds.

The mice are still here. I see signs of them, but very few now. There are fewer and fewer places for them to feel comfortable.

Today, I will finally do my room. It needs organising and dusting. But I have now understood the folly of storing things under the bed. So I don't know where I am going to store something. Possibly, I will have to throw some things away. It will happen, I no longer need to worry. I know now I have the knack!

Yesterday, we went to see 66. It was about the hunger strike in Northern Ireland in the 80s. During that time seven men died, all within days of each other. It was really hard watching. The hardest part was having to listen to the narrative of those who should have done something and did not. Who could have not participated and did so. The screws, the Irish Ambassador to the US, the British government. Once again it was all about the Prods v the Taigs, when really that was not what it was about at all. It was about the bloody British being unable to admit that their reign was over and that it would not be their government which lost Northern Ireland. It was pride. How many wars are fought and men are killed because of egoism and pride? How many people are made to suffer because of their stupidity? Because someone can't say, I am sorry. To listen to Ian Paisley was like listening to Donald Trump. Because they have to hold onto power for no reason at all, how unfree they must feel inside.

And then there was Bobby Sands. He had had enough. He just couldn't bear it anymore. The injustice, the ineptitude, the mishandling, the violence. Here was someone who just said, I can't do this anymore, I can't bear to live in this world.

There is another protest that no one really talks about - it is called the Dirty Protest. Often, it is called the Blanket Protest. This was the start of the Hunger Protest. This was when they refused to wear their uniforms and instead wore the blankets which were on their beds. Then it just escalated after that. To the point where, the guards were throwing back their own shit and urine at them and because they had to put their shit somewhere, they smeared it on the walls of their cells. So they were lying in a cesspool of shit and piss. When i first encountered this, I could not believe this was allowed to happen. Even watching it made me feel really ill. I even remember, it was a poem by Ciaran Carson. When I read it I thought, has this person gone mad? Is that why they are smearing shit on the walls? Later I discovered the origins and the depths which the prisoners had sunk. If the Brits had been able to long ago, recognise the situation for what it was and their role in it, peace would have come sooner here.

Bigotry will beget violence. As surely as night follows day. First it will be violence inflicted upon the oppressed and then it will be violence which the oppress will inflict, because firstly, they don't know better and secondly, they have to fight back. I don't understand why people insist on thinking that hardware will win the day in the end. It only perpetuates the problem, unless you are willing to undertake genocide. Which of course the Western powers are, totally willing to undertake genocide, because they have done it numerous times, both in distant and recent history.

So, i now must begin with my room. I don't know where to begin I have to admit. I think I will begin with under the bed.

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