Month: June 2019

When I lived in my previous house in the countryside, Cork County Council insisted that I needed to upgrade my septic tank. There was nothing wrong with it but because I was looking for planning permission, the tank had to comply with new building regulations. Regulations that didn’t exist when I was building it back in 1982.

I got an engineer to have a look at it and he said that what was being proposed was an overkill and unnecessary, but I didn’t have a choice. When I questioned it, I was told that because it was a four-bedroom house, the septic tank had to be capable of dealing with eight people as the regulations count two people in every bedroom.

I pointed out that there were only three of us living there and, as my wife and I were both over fifty at the time, the prospect of us having more kids was highly unlikely but they said it didn’t matter. It was two people per bedroom and that was that.

But maybe they weren’t daft after all, but just looking to the future because there is a serious shortage of houses and it’s my fault apparently.

According to a report in the Irish Examiner, the Government is making a fresh push to entice older people to move out of family homes and free up housing by gauging their interest in a series of financial and property incentives in the run-up to the next budget.

They are surveying older people for their views on downsizing as part of research due to be completed in September, just weeks before Budget 2020. The Department of Housing enlisted a survey company to ask 1,050 older people living alone for their views on what incentives would convince them to move out of their homes.

I came across an earlier statement from the Royal Institute of the Architects of Ireland (RIAI) who said empty nesters should be financially incentivised to downsize their home to help ease the housing crisis and there was talk of a “granny flat grant” of up to €15,000 for homeowners who wanted to convert their homes into two units.

In other words, too many of us are living in houses that are too big. We’re called ‘empty nesters’ because we continue to live in the family sized home after the kids have flown the coop and we’re causing problems. Young people can’t find houses to raise their own families and it’s all our doing.

Don’t panic though because we can solve the housing problem if we go and live in a closet and give the house to younger families. We’ve reared our children, so now they want us to jump ship into a flat and make the space available to others, so they can raise their kids.

Well you can take that solution and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine and take the “granny flat grant” with you on the way out and let me tell you why.

Many homeowners of my age started out in the early eighties, either buying or building our houses. We got married, started a family, saved hard, made sacrifices and in those early years, often struggled to make ends meet.

In my case, we raised two children to maturity, educated them and did whatever else was required to help them get the best start in life. That’s a serious investment and we did it while paying taxes and looking after all the bills that needed to be paid just to keep the show on the road. Clearing the mortgage and being debt free seemed a lifetime away.

That day eventually dawned though, and it was a great relief. The kids were grown and sorted, and it was our time to reap the rewards and enjoy the rest of our lives doing whatever we wanted to do.

Except that it’s not straight forward now because the rules have changed. These days the kids don’t want to leave the nest and, in many cases, when they do leave, they end up coming back to take over the spare room until they find their own place.

Now the Government wants us to either vacate our property and move to something smaller like a granny flat or alternatively, split the house in two. There might even be a grant to help us convert our walk-in wardrobe into a mini flat.

If somebody wants me to move out, they better come up with a decent proposal. If I’m going anywhere, it will be to a place of my liking, built to a high standard and close to local amenities. There aren’t too many of those available to me now and until such time as I see something suitable, I’m staying put.

And don’t worry about me being lonesome when I have the house to myself. That emotional blackmail is not going to work on me. Psychotherapist, Toby Ingham reckons it might be a shock to the system when the kids leave, and it will only hit us when it happens.

He says that empty nest syndrome can lead to feelings of depression, loneliness and grief and while we may think it affects women more than men, men often go through the same experience too.

Who am I to argue with Mr. Ingham? He has obviously met grieving fathers in his time, distraught because their kids have packed their bags, but he hasn’t met me. My wife and I paid our dues and we’ve done our bit for the State. If they want me to solve the housing crisis, they better have deep pockets.

In the meantime, if I happen to be part of the “random sample” of homeowners surveyed, then I hope the guy who comes knocking on my door isn’t easily offended.

I always feel sorry for school kids at this time of year as they go through their exams. It’s a tough ordeal for them. There are a few exceptions but for most of us, sitting at a desk in an exam situation is a lonely, stressful place to be.

Many who know me would probably tell you that I’m not the most excitable character you’ll ever meet, and I generally take things as they come. I rarely get into a flap but there are two things that have always freaked me out; exams and interviews.

It makes no difference how well prepared I am or how familiar the subject is, as soon as I’m put to the test, I quake. My palms get sweaty, my mouth dries up and my brain goes to mush. I’ll give you an example of how silly this gets, even now.

I did a week-long induction course back when I was starting a tour of duty with the United Nations. Part of that course involved an English test. This was because there were many different nationalities involved in the mission but English was the working language so it was important to make sure everyone could understand it.

The test included listening to some audio and then writing down what was discussed and answering some simple questions. I don’t recall the exact format, but you get the gist. It was basic enough.

I’m a native speaker and I have a decent understanding of the language and I also studied journalism, so I was well equipped. There was nothing complicated about this test but, as soon as it started, all the old familiar feelings came rushing back. It made no sense whatsoever that I should feel like that at the prospect of this silly little test, but I did.

We probably all have something that sets us off and for some, it’s a fear of speaking in public. Not an ordinary fear either, but the kind that brings on panic attacks and increases the chances of an imminent bowel movement. I know some who would rather eat a body part than face the prospect of having to address a group of people, even when they know them.

Those of a certain age will remember the flautist, James Galway. When he was in his heyday, he could play a tune on the flute without pausing for air and fellow musicians studied him to try to figure out when he was taking a breath. We all know someone who won’t stop talking long enough to take a gulp of air but put a microphone in their hand and it’s like a mute button. It’s more effective that a bullet.

Apparently, it’s a very common complaint and I discovered that there’s even a word for it, Glossophobia. It’s a fear of public speaking and it’s estimated that up to 75% of people suffer from it. A strange aspect of this affliction is that some sufferers can sing or dance on a stage in front of a large audience without any difficulty but would self-combust if they were asked to talk.

I can cope with large numbers, but my difficulty is with smaller crowds. I’m talking specifically about the interview situation. I’ve always hated interviews and I have no problem admitting that I am no good at them. I just go to pieces.

When I’m asked a question by the interview panel, my brain immediately goes into neutral. They’d get a more intelligent response from the jug of water in front of them. I can do a great interview in my head before I go into the room and I can give all the right answers when I come out, but while I’m in there, I’m clueless.

I went for an interview one time and one of the guys conducting the interview was a colleague of mine and we knew each other well. Once the introductions were made and the interview began, I couldn’t remember his name.

Even when I know the right answer, I doubt myself and start looking for alternative answers that might sound more impressive. Then I get confused and before I know it, I’m talking in tongues and spouting gobbledygook. That’s the way it’s always been and there’s a good reason for it.

We’re not good at telling strangers how competent we are, and we don’t like to boast about our wonderful achievements. We don’t want to sound full of ourselves or cocky either and I reckon it goes back to the way we were raised.

We were brought up to know our place and not to be getting ideas above our station or to be thinking we were better than anyone else. An attitude like that could earn you a clip around the ear. We were trained to be humble and not to be bragging to others so we’re uncomfortable with self-praise because it goes against the grain.

But not everyone is afraid to express themselves at an interview.

A junior doctor was suspended from practising medicine in Ireland by the High Court because he posed a danger to patients. The doctor was recruited despite never being registered to practice medicine in his own country, but he still managed to score well in an interview here, despite having never laid a hand on a patient before he got the job.

It wasn’t long before his colleagues realised that the man was completely incompetent. He couldn’t take a simple blood sample and he had never even been trained to examine a pregnant woman. He went into the interview full of confidence, waving his qualifications around and secured the position after persuading them that he was the perfect man for the job.

Wouldn’t have happened if he was raised by an Irish mammy.

I heard the Master of the High Court, Edmund Honohan, talking on the radio and he was explaining why he used a hammer to smash three panes of glass in his courtroom. While it is normal for offenders to appear before a judge to answer for their misdemeanours, it’s more unusual for a judge to be explaining himself.

He defended breaking the windows because he said there were issues with ventilation. He explained that when he leaves his courtroom at the end of the day, it’s closed until he comes in at 10.30am the following morning. By then, the air has turned stale and he is expected to work in that atmosphere.

He claimed that he had been complaining about it for the last ten years, but nothing had been done and he said it’s unfair to expect people to work in those conditions and it is also unfair on the members of the public to have to suffer. It was making him feel ill, so he brought a hammer to work with him and smashed three small panes of glass to allow for some ventilation.

While I have some sympathy for the judge, the fact remains that he damaged public property. He brought the hammer with him from home and that would indicate a degree of premeditation which I’m sure is a factor judges regularly take into consideration when deciding on cases.

Remorse is another factor considered by judges when determining cases and in this instance, the judge has not shown any. In fact, he said he would do it again if he felt it was necessary but thankfully the matter has since been resolved.  

There is a light-hearted side to this story and the idea of a judge breaking windows in his own courtroom is amusing. It worked for him, but the justice system is having other difficulties and not all of them can be solved by swinging a hammer.

Executive Director of the Irish Penal Reform Trust, Deirdre Malone reckons that prisons haven’t a great record for reducing crime and she’s probably right. If locking people up was the solution, then why have we such a high rate of repeat offenders. 45% of prisoners are convicted of further crimes within three years of being released.

Malone said there needs to be a focus on stopping the cycle of crime at an early stage by investing in drug treatment and supports in communities. She’s correct of course and part of that support should include investment in Garda Juvenile Diversion Programmes and Community Policing, but these have long been considered ‘soft’ policing options by senior garda management. They were never properly resourced or given serious consideration and now there are consequences.

Cormac O’Keeffe reported in the Irish Examiner that the Garda Commissioner Drew Harris came in for a lot of stick when it was discovered that gardai failed to prosecute almost 8,000 criminal offences by juveniles over an eight-year period.

The Garda Juvenile Diversion Programme is designed to engage with young offenders at an early stage and hopefully divert them from committing further crimes and thereby keeping them on the straight and narrow. In simple terms, they are given a chance to avoid having a criminal conviction recorded against them.

Presumably many of the culprits in these cases were originally recommended to be dealt with by caution under this programme but were subsequently found not to be eligible, either because they were over age or they weren’t cooperating or maybe the crimes were determined to be too serious. The vast majority were repeat offenders.

These cases should have been followed up with prosecutions in court because they were deemed unsuitable for the Garda Youth Diversion Programme, but this didn’t happen. An internal garda review of juvenile offences found 7,900 of them were not prosecuted because of garda inaction between 2010 and 2017.

I have commented on some of the failings of garda management previously and my criticism upset some in An Garda Siochana but the truth is often painful. Whether they like to hear it or not, the fact remains that community policing and the juvenile diversion programme were considered as side shows to the main event and were never fully supported. Mainly because they are long term strategies and don’t provide a quick fix.

It takes time to reap the rewards of effective community policing initiatives and youth diversion programmes. In my time, senior management preferred more immediate solutions. Better for the figures, better for the media and ultimately better for the promotion prospects.

Crime detection was always considered to be the main discipline and absorbed the greater amount of resources. That’s fair enough because detecting crime is a major function of any police force and that’s how it should be. An Garda Siochana has a long and successful history in that department.

But there is room for the other sections in the Force to play an important role too, a fact that was lost on the powers that be. Community policing was always the first casualty when there was a manpower shortage.

In response to the lack of prosecutions, Bob Collins of the Policing Authority said that, notwithstanding the succession of other Garda controversies in recent years, this scandal is “the most serious” the authority has dealt with.

Garda Commissioner Harris apologised to the Policing Authority and said there is now a “consideration of discipline” and the mass disciplinary examination was an “extraordinary step” for him to take but accepts that there were both individual and organisational failings.

I had been complaining about the lack of resources and organisational failings for years but maybe they would have paid more attention if I had just asked Judge Honohan for a loan of his hammer and paid a visit to the Phoenix Park instead.

Many years ago, I was in Belarus doing some work on behalf of the Chernobyl Children’s Trust. Back then, I was a regular visitor to that part of the world and one thing I learned, is that dealing with officialdom over there is a unique experience and it takes a while to get used to the bureaucracy.

You have to go through it to fully appreciate what it’s like, but it helps if you consider their history and where they’ve come from. They got their training from the old Soviet Union, so they love forms. The smallest transaction will involve a ton of paperwork, a bit of shouting, lots of banging of official stamps and a lifetime of waiting around.

In the early days, when we were bringing out humanitarian aid convoys, we must have destroyed several forests to generate the volume of paperwork that was required to travel with us. Every truck, ambulance and van had to have a mountain of documentation for the customs officials.

Exact details of the trucks, certificates of insurance, tax, certificates of roadworthiness, proof of ownership, details of cargo, itemised manifest of goods all had to be provided. Individual certificates were required for some goods, especially food stuffs but also for medical supplies including the likes of crutches and walking aids.  

In many cases, we were dealing with items that were donated so this certification wasn’t always available. This regularly created problems because every single item would be examined by customs officials either at the point of entry into the country or at subsequent checks when the items were being unloaded into hospitals, orphanages or day-care centres. It wasn’t easy.

There was as much paperwork again required for every individual making the journey. Personal details of the drivers and volunteers including passports, visas, driver licences, Garda clearance and reams of health insurance and medical certs, added to the pile.

Multiply that by thirty or forty vehicles and seventy or eighty people, depending on the number of vehicles in the convoy, and we ended up with a shed load of paper.

Entering Belarus from Poland presented the first real hurdle. Just trying to get into the country was complicated and we often spent a couple of days there trying to get everybody cleared. Once clearance was given, we were then allowed to go on our way, but we were only given three days to travel the country and deliver the aid.

This process was frustrating for everybody but particularly for the new volunteers. They couldn’t understand it and no matter how often we explained it prior to leaving Ireland, seeing it in action was soul destroying.

The fact that we were all in Belarus for the benefit of their own people didn’t seem to make too much difference to the officials and they didn’t ease our passage any. In each town and village where aid was being delivered there were local customs to be navigated. It was always a slow, tedious and frustrating process but it had to be done and it was at one of these customs posts that I had an unusual experience.

It was a customs post like any other and, as usual, it was crowded with truck drivers who all wanted to get their paperwork cleared. These places were usually old buildings that weren’t designed for comfort and they tended to be hot and poorly ventilated. Tempers were often short and stress levels were generally on the high side.

A Belarussian driver approached one of our interpreters and explained that he had a problem with his truck. He had seen us pulling up earlier and he figured that we might be able to help him. We always travelled with a mechanic, so I called him and asked if he’d take a look and it wasn’t long before he had the problem sorted.

By the time the Belarussian driver returned to the office, it had become full to overflowing. We were all shoulder to shoulder and there was a bit of jostling going on. I was standing just inside the door and I was making slow progress.

When the driver saw me, he started chatting away in Russian and then stepped into the already crowded room. There was no space for him, but he squeezed in anyway and stood in front of me until we were almost touching noses. Then he shook my hand vigorously and stepped back into the hallway. I decided at that stage, that he was a bit unhinged and I just wanted him to go away.

As soon as he was gone, an interpreter explained to me what had happened. The driver was very grateful for the assistance and he wanted to thank me for helping him. There was a door saddle between the two of us which he saw as a barrier. The kind of thing you see under the door as you go from one room to another.

Because it is considered bad manners in that part of the world to shake hands over a barrier, he stepped over the saddle and squeezed himself into the room to avoid insulting me by shaking hands over the barrier.

This guy probably realised that he was going to look like a bit of an idiot for behaving like that, but he was more concerned about my feelings than his own. He was determined to thank me and to hell with the consequences for him. That made me feel a little guilty and I wanted to run after him and give him a hug.

We sometimes write people off because they speak a foreign language, or they look different. Anti-immigrant sentiment seems to be gathering momentum too, but we shouldn’t be so quick to condemn others. They might even teach us a few things.