Author Archives: MG McShane

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About MG McShane

Nerd by day, blogger by night and mother of the teen 24/7. Having been whacked on the back by Fate earlier this year, I am self-employed, oddly thinking that leaving a permanent and pensionable position in the middle of a recession was an enlightened idea! Coaxing the teen to the dinner table has become a full time preoccupation. Along with the foods I use to lure her out, there are stories to be told and observations to be made about the preparation of food generally and the breaking of bread with those we care for (Teen in the Attic). And when I am not in a culinary mood, I proffer observations about stuff and nonsense (Middle Aged Teen).

There’s a time and a place…

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Girl opposite me is roaring into the phone with all the finesse of Dom Joly on ‘Trigger Happy’. She started with a few sympathetic comments about Anthony “Axel” Foley’s sad passing before commenting on his weight and then fat shamed – names included – all in her own family in *extensive* detail. Oh, how she laughed. Of one couple, she remarked “Sure, it will be Easter before they eat their way over from the States.” After so many minutes of this I feel like throttling her!

October 2016

Bedside manner me a**e!

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In Hospital and the Nurse asks
‘Is that your surname?’
‘No’, says I. ‘It’s half my first name.’
‘So you are actually called that?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you are ACTUALLY called that?’ as she bangs her pen against my name on the page for extra effect.
‘Yes’.
‘And it’s a real name?’
‘Yes’.
‘And you spelt it correctly?’
‘Yes. I spelt my own name correctly.’
‘And how long have you been using that name?’
’46 years.’
‘Why 46 years?’
‘It was the name given to me at my Christening.’
‘Hmmmmmm’, goes the nurse as she turns to leave abruptly.
____

Later, the same nurse comes over to me, like a scene from ‘Hello, Hello’ (“Listen very carefully, I shall say this only once…”). Leaning in as close as possible, she whispers to me ‘I know someone who’s Church of Ireland or Church of England or whatever you are.’ ‘Anglican’ replies I. ‘That too’, says she as she turns on her heel to leave the room.

The Postman always rings twice…

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Monday
“Do X and X live here?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, they left 11 years ago.”
“That’s very exact.”
“We bought the house from them.”
“Oh.”

Tuesday
“Do X and X live here?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, they left 11 years ago. We bought the house from them.”
“Oh. We had this conversation yesterday, didn’t we?”
“Yes we did.”

This morning
“X and X still don’t live here?”
“No change from yesterday.”
“No harm in asking.”

Things are not always as they seem…

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“How’s work?”
“Meh.”
“Why?”
“I deal with unhappy people *all* day long.”
“So?”
“Crying. Screaming at me. Telling me all their problems. Threatening me. One even called me a ‘stupid bitch’ today.”
“But that must be rewarding in so many ways.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, don’t you feel good helping people?”
“Eh…what exactly do you think I do?”
“You’re a counselor or something?”
“Hell, no. I work in Customer Care.”

Compliment or insult? I’m not sure…

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Pop to the village for groceries in my usual Sunday attire of tracksuit bottoms, runners, hoodie and no makeup. Random man stops me and says “Can I ask you a personal question? How do you look so easy?” I am horrified – “‘Easy’ as in ‘slut’?” I ask. The man is completely taken aback, starts spluttering apologies, that he doesn’t mean that at all. “No, you just look so beautiful with no makeup on, so natural. You make it look so easy, ” says he as he continues to apologise! I smile – uneasily – as I walk away…