gatherer in the garden

darkness visible

The following story was brought into the public domain by The Daily Mail.
At the weekend the pilot of a Dublin bound Primera Air passenger jet flying over Italy suddenly altered height, plunging his plane from 38,000 feet to 20,000.
On board were 148 Irish passengers who were returning from a holiday on a Greek island.
They had booked the holiday with Irish firm Budget Travel.
The pilot of the passenger jet having inexplicably and without warning changed alititude, now drastically altered his course direction and flew towards the site of the G8 meeting in the town of Aquila.
The pilot did not respond to air traffic control communications.
The pilot continued to alter his course at regular intervals, performing what Italian authorities called "erratic manoeuvres," making the plane's height and its direction totally unpredictable for air traffic control.
The Italian authorities initiated a terror alert, fearing an Al Qaeda strike on the world leaders taking part in the G8 meeting.
A jet fighter was scrambled to escort the passenger jet into Rome.
The pilot of the passenger jet in mocking tones told his terrified passengers to wave to the jet fighter.
The crew of the passenger jet also mocked the passengers.
The passenger jet was escorted towards Rome by the Italian jet fighter.
At Rome airport the American Presidential Plane Air Force One was about to take off carrying President Barack Obama.
The Primera Air passenger jet landed at Rome.
On arrival at Rome airport the plane was surrounded by security forces, emergency fire crews and anti terror police.
In Dublin a spokesman for Budget Travel who had sold tickets for the flight, claimed that the plane had been diverted for what he called "technical reasons."
The spokesman for Budget Travel is quoted in The Daily Mail as saying: "Health and safety is the priority. If we have a technical issue we have to land. It wasn't due to the G8 at all. They had to get a new part."
I believe this statement to be disingenuous in the extreme.
I believe this statement cannot by any stretch of the imagination be a true representation of what happened.
I believe this statement is in fact a grotesque lie.
I would suggest that this statement amounts to a damage limitation exercise on the part of Budget Travel.
We should not tolerate it.
This puerile, formulaic and massively frivolous statement does not explain the passenger jet's plunge from 38,000 feet to 20,000, the erratic flying pattern, the pilot's failure to answer standard air traffic control communications, the pilot's failure to follow any approved procedures in the event of an emergency, the crew's mockery of the passengers, the pilot's mocking instructions to passengers that they should wave to the jet fighter which was shepherding them away from the G8 zone.
There are questions that need to be answered.
I don't think we should accept answers that have been devised by legal professionals as part of a commercial damage limitation exercise and which bear no relationship to the truth whatsoever.
The answers should not come from a Budget Travel apologist.
The answers should come from a full scale hard target anti terror investigation.
Here are my questions.
What is the name of the pilot of the Primera Air passenger jet?
What is the religion of the pilot of the Primera Air passenger jet?
Is the pilot of the Primera Airlines passenger jet a Muslim?
Has the pilot now or at any time in the past been engaged in Jihad on behalf of the peaceloving religion of Islam?
Has the pilot now or in the past had any associations with members of Al Qaeda?
Was the pilot drunk?
Were any traces of cannabis, cocaine, heroin or any other drug found in the pilot's bloodstream?
Was the pilot's blood tested at all after the plane's forced landing in Rome?
If not, why not?
What part was so urgently needed for the plane that Budget Travel claims the plane diverted solely to obtain this part?
Was the part found at Rome airport?
Was the part fitted at Rome airport before the plane was permitted to fly on to Dublin?
Why wasn't the part fitted if the part was the reason for the whole diversion in the first place?
Who owns Primera Airlines?
Does the pilot of the Primera Air passenger jet have any associations, friendships or other interactions with anti globalisation protestors or any other political grouping?
Was the pilot of the Primera Air passenger jet engaged in activities on behalf of Al Qaeda when he inexplicably brought his jet down from 38,000 feet to 20,000 while pursuing erratic flying patterns in the vicinity of the G8 summit, refusing to respond to air traffic control communications, and telling his terrified passengers to wave at the jet fighter which was at that stage threatening to shoot down his plane?
Did Al Qaeda launch a probing attack on the G8 summit through the Primera Air passenger jet flying to Dublin?
Was Al Qaeda hoping to use the Primera Air passenger jet bound for Dublin to ram Air Force One and kill President Barack Obama?
Was the pilot of the Primera Air passenger jet interviewed by anti terror officers at Rome airport?
Was the pilot of the Primera Air passenger jet then unbelievably incredibly and insanely actually permitted to take off again and fly into Dublin?
The same piece of crap Al Qaeda loving b-st-rd who'd just buzzed the G8 summit while terrorising 148 innocent people on his plane?
Someone actually allowed him to fly again?
Allowed him to complete the trip to Dublin after what he'd done?
I mean why don't you just put all our heads on a chopping block?
Al Qaeda are going to win this war.
Al Qaeda are going to conquer the world if people in Civil Aviation and Law Enforcement persist in treating them as though they are mischievous schoolboys.
Will this Primera Air pilot be allowed to continue flying passenger jets into Dublin airport?
Will this Primera Air pilot be allowed to fly passenger jet planes anywhere in the world?
Will Primera Air itself be permitted to continue to fly into Ireland?
Does the airline industry seriously believe that a statement such as the one from Budget Travel will actually help protect business?
Are they f---ing dreaming?
Why exactly did the pilot inform the passengers he had terrorised that they were flying to Rome simply because they had too much fuel on board to return to the Greek island from which the flight had originated?
Why did the pilot fail to inform his passengers that the plane had been instructed to land in Rome or be shot down?
Why did the crew mock passengers by telling them the fighter jet was merely checking their wings for ice?
Why did the pilot say they were flying to Rome because they had too much fuel while afterwards a spokesperson for Budget Travel claimed they flew to Rome to collect a spare part?
I ask again.
Is the pilot an agent of Al Qaeda?
Or was he just a gratuitously evil little swine entertaining himself by terrorising his passengers because he wanted to cause a security alert at the G8 summit?
Either way, why isn't the pilot in jail?
How long do the Judge Liberals of Western Europe think they can get away with frivolously risking the lives of the law abiding citizenry of Western Europe by releasing bastards like this pilot after he has shown his true intent?
What exactly has happened here?
Why exactly has there not been full and frank reportage of the event?
Why exactly are we tolerating Budget Travel telling the public that all these things happened because the plane needed a new part?

The Photographer's Eye (with Enrica Cecchini)

Jai Hind!
************* I encountered these boys during a brief sojourn with Mother Teresa's nuns in Calcutta. The children here sometimes seem luminous with joy in spite of everything they are dealing with. The boy who has spotted me taking his photo is so sweet. I can see such hope in him. His big eyes are open to the future. Jai Hind is a Hindu cry of approbation for the nation, much like Viva Italia. Enrica

two

two lovers walk the claddagh
ruffed and ragged by the winter breeze
they're as much a part of galway
as the wildern wintern seas
they're laughter echoes gleaming
like the verses of a song
their voices held and bade me
scorn the wealth of solomon

war on terror chortles

1. The Canadian government has just reported that one of its government jets was almost blown out of the sky when an Air Emirates jet suddenly flew at it bald headed. The incident happened in April. The Canadian government has only released details of it now. The Canadian government denies that the Prime Minister of Canada was on board the government jet. The Canadian government is refusing to say exactly who was on board the government jet. Which of course means the Prime Minister of Canada was on board the government jet. None of the admittedly meagre reporting of this incident has mentioned little known comedy improv group Al Qaeda. There has been no media speculation as to whether one of the pilots on the Air Emirates jet thought he'd get in a little Jihad at the end of a long tiring trans Atlantic flight. There has been no speculation as to whether an Al Qaeda operative working in Canadian air traffic control deliberately put the two planes on a collision course. No speculation at all. Best not to worry. It'll all sort itself out eventually. Sharia law anyone?

2. The Irish Times has just reported the conviction of a member of an Islamist gang who tortured and murdered a Jewish man in France. The Irish Times report gave very scant details of the torture. They obviously don't want to distress people. The Irish Times managed to get through its report on the torture and murder of this Jewish man without once mentioning Muslims, Islam or Al Qaeda. The Jewish man was tortured and murdered by a gang of twenty people all of whom were Muslims. Probably a coincidence. Here is the news. What happened to that Jewish man was murder. But the real crime happened after. Eh Irish Times?

3. A British Airways jet had to be evacuated yesterday after the cabin filled with smoke. No one was hurt. Reports of the incident have made no mention of possible Al Qaeda infiltration of airline maintenance crews. Reports of the incident have made no corelation with ten similar incidents of varying serverity from smoke in the cabin to explosions in the cargo bay, at Qantas airlines in Australia. Reports of the incident have made no corelation with similar incidents on Air France plance. Reports of the incident haven't so much as mentioned the destruction of an Air France plane and its passengers and crew over the Atlantic recently. At this stage I wouldn't be surprised to hear that the police want to interview President Bush about the incidents. Spokesperson for the Civial Aviation Authority Mr Osama Bin Laden commented: "There's no story here. Move along quickly now. President Bush bad. Barack gooooodddddd. Go back to sleeeeppppppp my prettieeeeeees."

4. And finally Esther. Sky News billed its broadcast interview with the current American President as Obama Versus Bolton. This was a rather dramatic title. I am referring to the use of the word Versus which implies a certain adversarial quality to the proceedings. In truth President Obama was in little danger from Sky's interviewer Tim Bolton. Unless of course we include the danger of being fawned to death.

there's something about mary

Evening at the Chateau de Healy.
My mobile phone beeps imperiously.
A text message has winged its way through on the ether.
I cast my eyes on it.
And lo!
This...

Greetings Ireland's greatest living poet.
I hope you won't mind the intrusion.
Will you be in Dublin tomorrow for The March For Life?
If so I'd like to buy you a coffee.
It would be fun to spend some time on the 4th of July with someone who actually appreciates America.
It's quite hard to find such people on this island.
Regards.
Mary
(Female. 30 years.)

I looked at the message closely.
It seemed almost too good to be true.
Could it be a trap?
At spy school they taught us that anything that looks too good to be true probably is too good to be true.
I could see the baited hooks.
She'd called me Ireland's greatest living poet.
That's a hook.
She'd mentioned The March For Life.
That's a hook.
She'd mentioned America.
That's a hook.
She'd offered to pay for the coffees.
Hoo boy, for a tight wad like me that's definitely a hook.
She'd inadvertently mentioned she was of the womanly sexual gender persuasion orientation type of thing and 30 years of age.
No need to labour the point.
Truly my cup runneth over.
Hook, line and sinker.
But what if it is a trap?
The classic double cross.
Maybe she's a beautiful woman but also a bootboy for Independent Newspapers intent on revenge.
Or what if it's a triple cross?
What if she's a beautiful woman, a bootboy for Independent Newspapers, and also a member of Al Qaeda?
Or how about if it's a quadruple cross?
Beautiful woman, bootboy for Independent Newspapers, member of Al Qaeda and in her spare time freelancing for the Johnston Press?
Or maybe a quintuple cross?
Beautiful woman, bootboy for the Indo, member of AQ, freelancing for the Jonners, but also a former employee of the Irish nursy, teacher, cop, civil servant, bus driver, free loading no working State Sector, who have extorted ridiculous pay rises from our corrupt kleptocratic Fianna Fail government causing a calamitous economic collapse, (no it wasn't the banks, the senior bankers should be in jail, but it was the nice middle of the road people who sowed the seeds of our present absolute economic devastation with their extortion racket pay claims, and you know what, their kids for whom they pretend to care so much, are gonna pay the most dearly because there will be a civil war before long and this one will be hell on earth) the exposure of which thievery she somehow blamed on me.
Or a sextuple cross.
All of the above, but she wants to have sex with me as well.
Ah if only we could have our druthers.

The ghost of Sigmund Frood appeared at my shoulder.
"Sometimes Heelers," he murmured, "ze innocuous text message is just ze innocuous text message."

a rooskie in dublin

Romantic Breakdowns!

By Irina Kuksova

*****************

Remember back in the days when you first had a soft spot for someone, and you had to attend not-your-cuppatee events in order to just spend more time with this potential love of your life. The situation applies equally to men and women. A man could spend hours in the purgatory of shopping, or plonked outside some changing room holding dresses for the desired one to choose from. The girl for her part would often find herself sitting through yet another endless football match, yearning for it to be over so that she might finally get some attention.

If you do get hitched you will thank God those days are ever. Now you can finally do what you really like because your significant other has been successfully lured into your den and at last occupies truly more than half your heart and wardrobe. The only problem is that, although enjoying your married bliss, you may no longer get out as much as a couple.

Turns out there's a simple solution. I found this out quite by chance recently. Go somewhere with your spouse and have your car battery go flat. But not just anywhere. It has to be a strategically sound place and time. In my case it happened around 8pm (just the right lighting you know) and ten minutes away from a friend's house. The friend didn't have jump leads to start the car but she had tea which helped sustain me and my guy on a scenic and romantic walk hand in hand through suburban Dublin. Our walk took us to another friend who actually could give us a lift. We realised that having driven the same route by car thousands of times, we'd never actually walked it, never mind walked it together and in twilight. A whole new experience!

We had another flat battery breakdown in Dublin city centre a week later. It happened in a car park at 9pm. Knowing that we had at least an hour to wait before our white knight friend would once more come to the rescue (he rides a white Ford Fiesta rather than a horse by the way), we decided to have an improvised student style date. A street arts festival was underway in the area. We purchased a pizza and sat munching happily on a little wall. The city at dusk seemed even more alive than usual. We watched the local artists as they endeavoured to sell all manner of things Oirish to unwary passers by. It made an interesting change from a standard night at home cooking dinner and watching TV.

I am thinking now of trying to find some way to arrange the time and place of our next flat battery. If I could just make it happen in front of a cinema during the premiere of Harry Potter And The Half Blood Prince. I'm going to have to have a word with my car.

heeler the peeler's supernatural tales of yoikes and honey if the house wants us to leave i really think we should just go

Valerie is a 65 year old woman who has been known to me for many years.
She is of an artistic temperament.
If I were to look for a solid witness to a supernatural event, she might not be the ideal candidate.
She is musically inclined.
Many years ago she was interested in creative writing.
I say she might not be the ideal witness because there is always the feeling with creative people that their imaginations are working overtime.
Take it from me.
Valerie has shared with me the following story which she insists is literally true in every detail.
Soon after she married she moved with her husband to live in a large house in a remote part of the Irish midlands.
Some months went by.
Each day her husband would go off to work and Valerie would be left alone in the house.
She was with child now.
During her days alone in the house she became uneasy.
She knew that the house had once belonged to an aristocratic family.
She knew also that there were secret passages linking the master bedroom to the old servants quarters.
She felt that these passages had in days gone by facilitated the sexual exploitation of innocent young women by a cruel rapacious landlord.
Her historical knowledge gave her a sense that evil things had happened in this house.
She says that on one particular day she had an actual encounter with something evil.
Her husband had gone to work as usual.
She was alone in the house.
She awoke to hear something moving around outside the house.
She had an impression immediately that all was not right.
The doors and windows were closed.
She heard the creature outside move into the house.
She heard it coming up the stairs.
She heard a snuffling sound from outside her door.
Then the creature went away.
When she told me this part of the story, I immediately interjected: "It was a dog."
Valerie replied: "No. It wasn't a dog. I knew what it was. Some part of me knew full well what it was. It was a supernatural creature. A being of evil lingering in a house where evil things had happened."
I shot back: "You were pregnant. Your body was full of hormones. Of course you'd be jumping at shadows."
She insisted: "This was a real experience."
Valerie would have no other claimed direct experiences of the supernatural until thirty years later.
But ah.
That's another story.

pictures in the hallway

Going to bed at 7am with the dawn already fully unfurled over the garden. Lovely fresh breeze ruffling the hedge. Gentle yellow light playing on the leaves.
I walked from the kitchen towards my place of rest.
Standing at the bedroom door, I looked back up the hall which was in shadow.
A question came to me.
What could be told about me from this hallway?
And another question.
What will people remember of me who live in this house when I am gone?
"He filled the place with paintings," might be an answer.
Even in shadow I could make out some of them from where I stood.
A nice Josephine Hardiman of Killinthomas Woods. A Jim Flack misty May morning. Another Josephine Hardiman of Banna Strand.
Where a man and a woman stand alone watching the breakers on the beach.
I'd asked her once: "Who are they?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Then: "James they're whoever you want them to be."
But I knew.
I had seen the answer in her eyes.
And in that painting he will be forever young and she be fair.
Ah.
No one will know the story behind the paintings I've brought to this house.
The Jill Allaway of the giant moon, and the bats, and the cross, and the trees, and the great house, which is supposed to represent my mind.
The Ger Osborne of the cottages below the mountains which he gave me as a gift after a photo of his that I published in the Leinster Leader got a strong public response.
The Mariana Gabor nude stashed in the cupboard because I never quite had the nerve to display it.
The shadows in the hall seem to brood now.
What will people know of me who live in this house after I've gone?
"He loved beautiful things and beautiful people," they might say fingering Lu Yi's Chinese fan which lies beside a photograph of Grandad.
Or holding the Matryoshka doll which Marriedski gave me.
The lovely Matryoshka doll which I can never see without thinking of her.
She was a lovely Matryoshka doll herself.
All the women she was were beautiful.
Holy God made an executive decision to part us, knowing full well I wasn't adult enough to have a friendship with a married woman who looked like Marriedski.
Not before she'd told me her dream though, and I'd interpreted it, and we both wondered what in God's heaven had just happened.
The kids love that Matryoshka doll.
It's a miracle they haven't broken it.
Okay, they have broken it but it's been repaired with superglue.
It might yet survive a generation or two.
To pose a riddle for those who come after.
And beside it are the photos.
A black and white photo of Divya Sharma looking very Hindu and mysterious.
My favourite photo of me, standing outside Uncle Scutch's pharmacy with a poster in the background for Lady Windermere's Fanny.
Photos of various dogs, put in place to cheer up the Dad.
Will anyone know how these objects came to be here?
How long will they remain after I've gone?
I turned towards the bedroom door.
Stretching out my hand, I ran my fingers along the cracked panel of wood.
I'd smashed it with my shoulder at the age of nine, hurling myself repeatedly against the door in lunatic rage at my brother who was laughing on the other side.
The splintered panel will also tell something about me.
Whispering down the years.
Perhaps I've yet to fully realise the gifts God has given me in terms of miraculous deliverance from the oppressions of mind.

our television listings

RTE1
(The Irish national fraudcaster.)
4.25 Murder She Wrote. Jessica thwarts a mass murder attempt while attending the Hopkins Poetry Festival in Monasterevin. She catches me in the act of trying to blow up every other poet in Ireland by placing dynamite in the hotdogs at the outdoor barbecue. As I'm being led away in handcuffs, Jessica asks me why I did it. I reply with a Scooby Doo homage: "I wanted to wipe out these pseuds so I could be Ireland's greatest living poet for real. And I would have gotten away with it as well, if it wasn't for you, you meddling senior citizen."
5.20 Nuacht. I have a theory about this programme. It's aliens trying to make contact with us through the airwaves. And they're not coming through very clearly.
5.30 The Bill. Cor blimey, it's the day of Police Constable Honey Harman's cor blimey wedding to suspected cor blimey murderer cor blimey Scott Burnett. Cor blimey this is just perfect cor blimey entertainment for children coming in for their cor blimey tea. Cor blimey.
6.00 The Angelus. Rung by Quasimodo. This is the only even vaguely Christian programme on RTE, and it consists of one minute of bell ringing.
6.01 News. Read by Chairman Mao.
7.00 Nationwide.
7.30 The Reel Deal. Traditional music programme. I don't see what's so traditional about awful music. But I'm sure this programme will help clarify the issue. Deedly deedly aye, indeed.
8.00 Eastenders. Anissa brings her Irish poet home to meet the family with interesting results.
8.30 Rachel Allen: Bake! This programme should have been called Rachel Allen: Half Baked!
9.00 News. Read by Pol Pot.
9.30 One Fine Day. Romantic comedy from 1996. Robert De Niro and Michael Douglas take the acting honours. That is to say they made the honourable decision not to have anything to do with this turkey. The actual stars are George Clooney and Michelle Pfeiffer. You gotta feel sorry for Michelle. I mean, imagine having a name like Pfeiffer. And then having to star in a turkey like this with that galoot Clooney. Truly she suffers for her art.
11.25 News. Read by Joseph Stalin.
11.30 Fascination. Jacqueline Bisset thriller about something or other that happens to someone or other before everything is either sorted out or not.
1.25 Monk. Debut of a news series. Quite why RTE would debut a new series at 1.25 in the morning is beyond me. Needless to say, the omens are not good.
2.15 Telly Bingo. An entertaining television programme, my kingdom for an entertaining television programme. Hint: It's not this one.



NB: RTE reserves the right to cancel advertised programme schedules at a moment's notice if it finds any women at all willing to come on air and say negative things about nursing homes, schools, indigent care facilities, Magdalene laundries for single mothers, or any other institutions run by nuns. RTE will in no circumstances allow women on the air who say they have benefited from the services provided by the nuns at such facilities. RTE in fact will not tolerate former residents of Magdalene Laundries who wish to praise the love, care, guidance, education and savour of life that nuns gave in nursing homes, schools, indigent care facilities, Magdalene laundries or any other institutions while receiving no wages, and at a time when the Irish State was providing no social services of its own, and Judge Liberals were sending any women they came across from prostitutes, child abuse victims, the poor, the criminal classes and anywhere else, to be looked after by the nuns, the same nuns who never under any circumstances turned such women away.