We are all individuals.  Except me.  I’m the same as everyone else.

So I’ve joined the mass exodus to Wordpress, following such luminaries as the Kav lad and Twenty (who got really fancy and even got his own domain).  And Eolaí gan Fhéile’s praise for Wordpress played no small part in the decision.  He knows things about things.

Annie and her Ladyship will finally succumb and come over to the light side despite their reservations.  There’s no need for reservations, girls - there’s always plenty of room at the hotel Wordpress.  I reckon Bock will be joining us shortly. I feel it in me water.

So what ya think of the new site?  I’m not sure about the scheme myself.  The choice of templates seems to be baby blue, girlie or morbidly dark, with very little else and I haven’t got the time right now to go poking at the CSS.  This layout will have to do for the time being.

I just noticed that Google were displaying a different logo yesterday, February 14. They do this to mark special occasions like The Feathers in December, Egg Time in spring, Green Day in March, We Rule The World Day in July and so on.

So what’s this one about? A tomato wrapped in some sort of stringy onion. Was it St. Vegetine’s day?

The Leinster Leader ran a story last week about plans for a badly needed new primary school in Kill being knocked on the head. The management of the school have been fighting for years for permission to build on a new site. The Council had objections to each proposal. Either too close to a road, too far from the town, no where was just right … a Goldilocks scenario.

A developer recently made an offer - “I will give you a suitable site for a new school if you give me permission to build 117 new houses”. Call it bribery, call it good business, call it what you want. It was a win-win situation. Another developer has been refused permission for 143 houses and the 117-plus-school will be refused for the same reason. The problem now is that the sewerage facility is at capacity. It will be 2011 before it’s upgraded. Any building before then will push it to breaking point and the proverbial will hit the fan. Jokes abound in the town about the 9″ shites of the newcomers (from Dublin) not fitting down 6″ pipes.

Why is it the Council are in this situation? Back in 2002 they published the development plan for the area. They predicted the 2001 population of 1,870 would grow to 3,320 by 2006. The census showed it to be 3,738 last year. The council underestimated by 400, but it was still a very good attempt. Fair play to them. So they knew what was coming.

The development plan stated “the future population of the town will be dictated by the availability of housing which, in turn will be dictated by the availability of serviced, zoned land”. See that? Serviced. Yes, serviced land. Doesn’t serviced mean the provision of facilities for sewerage treatment, schools, transport, water, lighting etc.?

Surely the idea is to provide this infrastructure prior to building houses, or at least concurrently. I’ve gotten this far without mention of brown envelopes but I can’t hold off any longer. Today’s brown envelopes are called development levies. Monies collected from builders to pay for infrastructure, but in fact diverted wherever there is a shortfall, like building pretty new Council offices.

But then, much of the development plan was bollocks anyway.

“It is the policy of the Council that names of residential developments should reflect local and Irish place names”. So the town got estates called Earls Court and Rochford. Very Irish. Very local.

“The Planning Authority will require the provision of a minimum level of cycle parking facilities in association with new development and a change of use”. At the last count there were, eh, let me see, eh, none. Not one solitary cycle stand.

“It is an objective of the Council to co-operate with the Department of Education and Science and the local school management board in the provision of an adequate number of school places to serve the needs of the town’s population”. Ah here, I give up.

Despite Mr. Mulley’s having to cull some of the nominations for the Blog Awards, all of the suggestions I made in January are the long list. Fair play to me.

Being a newbie at this blog racket, it’s as good as winning one myself. I would have been as sick as a small hospital if Eolaí gan Fheile’s Irish Conversations hadn’t made the cut for Most Humorous Post or if MacKozer’s Ireland from a Polish Perspective wasn’t up for Best Photo Blog.

Edit:: I realised after writing this that Eolaí is on the list for Best Designed Blog. I didn’t recognise it as his site at first as it’s named From Ireland to Kansas City. ::End Edit

These two buckos are in for other awards: An tEolaí has a second post in the Most Humorous category and is also in for Best Specialist Blog, while MacKozer is on the list for Best Newcomer.

Fatmammycat and Annie Rhiannon in there for Best Personal Blog and Annie also got nominated for Best Blog Post.

And what can I say except it was no surprise that Her Ladyship, The Swearing One, Right Honourable Member for Arse End Dead Central, got a whole bunch of nominations. Well deserved. She’s simply the beast when it comes to saying it as it is.

It’s great to see the Kav lad and Bock in there too.

Now. Here’s the thing that’s bugging me. Yer man Twenty is on the list for Best Designed Blog. Soooo, when the nominations were made, he was using a common or supermarket Blogger.com site, and noooow he’s gone all uppity and fancy on us and switched to using Wordpress and his own domain name. Which fekin design are we voting for?

Right lads, where is it? The snow I mean.

On the news last night they were issuing major weather alerts. They showed images of Dublin, where the roads were being gritted, with particular attention being paid to bus routes and around hospitals. Snow ploughs were fitted to the trucks for the first time in six years.* All across the country drifting was expected before dawn. And ice. Farmers were advised to bring their animals indoors.** Strong easterly winds. And anything else the Wintersmith could throw at us.

Met Éireann’s apocalyptic warnings ran like this: “Very cold and windy tonight, with outbreaks of sleet and snow in many areas. Some significant falls of snow are possible, especially over Connacht, north Munster, much of Leinster and Ulster, with some drifting in places before dawn. Drier weather will develop in the southwest later. Lowest temperatures -3 to plus 2 C, with frost in many areas and a risk of dangerous driving conditions. Strong east to southeast winds, easing later.” Exactly like this in fact.

So I got up at 5:00. I had my carrot in one hand and my two lumps of coal in the other. [Bear with me if you're getting the wrong image]. My snowman was going to be there to greet everyone on their way to work. If there were time I could even build an igloo like Irish KC did and I might even get free food.

And what happens. It’s a balmy 1°C, a slight breeze and drizzling. No frost on the car for the first time in days.

Ok. I’m not saying it won’t snow later, or hasn’t snowed elsewhere. But I’m really pissed off that the weather folks got the timing and location wrong and messed up my plans. I might just ring them an rollick them out of it. Like I did to the ESB last night when I had no heating because the power was off for 4 hours and it was -3°C. Then, as now, the only thing being gritted are my teeth.

*Insert your own jokes here about how the snowplough driver gets to work.
**That must’ve caused howls of laughter in urban households.

I like the auld wireless I do. The telly is too much of a distraction. Watch and listen at the same time! No way. That’s like trying to have a conversation with a woman.

Ah, the wireless. Now that’s a different story. You can let it blabber away there in the background and you only have to pay attention when you overhear something interesting.

This morning was one of those times when I did pay attention. In fact I even engaged in rapport. If screaming at a radio can be called rapport.

It was the Ian Dempsey Show on Today FM and it being morning drive-time, texts were coming in hot and heavy about a traffic jam in Ballybunion, a chicken crossing the road near Emo, a red Mitsi with its fog-lights on etc.

Then some tool of a trucker asked if it was legal to drive on the hard-shoulder. Mary said no. John said yes. Pat said yes, but only if …

And this is when the screams began. What sort of plonkers are on our roads? Has it gotten to the stage where the law of the land is only a guide and we are all free to interpret it a) as we see fit, b) to suit our needs or c) as we vaguely remember it from our reading of the rules of the road decades ago?

A dog is not just for Christmas. But learning the rules for driving is just for the day of your driving test.