Eight years ago, at about teatime on a Tuesday, there were 1,700 post offices in Ireland. Today, there are 1,200.

According to the Irish Postmasters’ Union most were closed on the retirement or death of the postmaster and low wages meant no one stepped in to take their place. Most small rural post offices were dependent on dispensing social welfare payments for their survival, but since the boom of the 90s fewer and fewer people were unemployed and many of those that were, opted to receive their payments directly into their bank account.

It was no longer economical for An Post to keep them open. Things changed - An Post had to react to that. The bigger ones survived but not as they were.

The functions we once used the post office for became redundant. Forgive me father for I haven’t penned - it’s 10 years since I wrote my last letter. I filled in forms and posted them - does that count?

Like many around the country, my local post office now offers a wide range of services. (See Table for One) Most of them I have never used. It’s nice to know I can get a Top Up there, whatever that is.

Like many around the country, my local post office would once have been considered rural. With the large influx of new residents it no longer is. Yet it retains that rural ethos.

Mistress Jackie, as our postmaster is affectionately known, does far more than her employer asks of her. (See Table for Two) And no, she’s not some little old lady with her specs on the tip of her nose and cat hair on her geansaí - she’s a 20-something about-to-be-hitched cutie.

An Post (as Postbank) have just launched their Everyday Account (a current account). Once again the list in Table for One has grown. I admit it will be handy having such a service in small towns and villages like ours. The drawback is that as Table for One grows, Table for Two shrinks. Mistress Jackie gets busier and busier, though her own current account remains the same. I just hope she still has time to make that call the next time Mrs. Murphy doesn’t turn up for her pension.

- The Kildare Chilling Co. facility was destroyed in a fire on Saturday afternoon. Both Breaking News.ieIndependent.ie say the fire broke out at the Chillen factory on the old Dublin road at around 4 o’ clock. I can only assume the report was phoned in by a true local. Anyway, it’s a sad loss - The Chillin’and was a major employer in Kildare Town.

- Breaking News.ie are also reporting that a man landed his helicopter on the roof of a car park in Athlone as he wanted to have keys cut at a nearby shopping centre. Smart comments please.

- Oh! Before I forget: Eolaí’s sale of paintings ends in one or two days. When I say one or two it’s because one day + time difference between here and Kansas = almost two days in Kansas time. I think. My head hurts. Ah, look, just go on over there and pick up the last of the bargains.

- Remember I told you about the trouble I was having convincing An Post that I don’t have a TV?

This was it:Load embedded post, "Blank stares"

And how they should stop wasting everybody’s time sending me reminders to buy a TV licence? Well wonder of wonders they do believe me. They wrote to say they did. However, their computer system doesn’t so I am to get reminders indefinitely. But the human says I can just ignore them.

- MacDara is blogging as often as he can on the unfolding situation in Beruit. I’m relying on MacD for news of what could become a civil war in one of the world’s most beautiful countries. Independent.ie seem more interested in reporting soccer results.

At 11:00 I was having lunch. Tuna in mayonnaise with sweetcorn on brown bread. The bread was home-made by a company that pretends to be a little old lady. The rest was away-made by fish, fowl and farmers.

It was gorgeous. So much so it made me feel guilty. You know. All the starving children. In the crèche in the village. They don’t get lunch until 12:30 the poor little mites.

Ah yes. The kiddies. The Irish Times was fretting about them too. Its Education Today section was in Tuesday’s edition. The Noticeboard carried information about upcoming events of interest to those about to leave school - an open day at the Racing Academy and Centre of Education for anyone thinking of a career in horse racing. There was even a URL for the RACE website. Fair play to the IT - it is not so long ago the same piece would have read something like more details available on the RACE website, with no link. Find it if you can.

Such a pity though these kids can’t access the Education Today section without paying a subscription fee.

The IT seems caught in a Lanigan’s Ball loop of stepping out then stepping back in again when it comes to technology.

At times, it meets new challenges with foresight and vigour, as it did many years ago when they it became the first Irish newspaper to launch an online presence. Then it shoots itself in that same foot that it struck out so confidently, as it did when it began charging for its online content.

Recently the IT admitted its website is struggling to break even. Surprise, surprise.

Madam

If you provide content for free the advertisers will be lining up in droves to give you their money. Even if you only open the archives you’ll make a killing.

Yours etc.

The Sneeze

The IT never seems to realise the commercial value of the Internet. Perhaps they fear the Internet. Or they simply don’t understand it.

On the one hand, it has some of the best technology writers in Karlin Lillington, Danny O’Brien and Mike Butcher. On the other, it has Colin Murphy saying things that many bloggers like to share their thoughts on politics, the media, popular culture and their toilet habits.

The Irish Times’ editorial policy on, and understanding of, blogging is confusing to say the least. Wednesday’s edition carried an opinion piece on Taoiseach Brian Cowen’s Irish language policy, written by none other than the blogger An Spailpín Fánach. The Education Section on Tuesday had some Leaving Cert related snippets entitled Blog tales which had quotes from leaving-cert.net (a blog authored by three eloquent school-goers), walsho.net (an equally eloquent one-manstudent blog) and, get this, boards.ie. Yes! boards.ie! boards.ie! Since when are message boards blogs? Is an IM an email? Is a magazine a newspaper? No. They might share a certain traits but they are not the same.

To further confuse matters, the IT hosts very popular blogs by three of its own journalists: Jim Carroll’s On the Record, Shane Hegarty’s Present Tense and Conor Pope’s Price Watch. Yet Conor’s column in the print edition invites readers to offer feedback, with options like phone, post, email or blog it! * So leaving a comment on Conor’s blog makes one a blogger? Eh, no. If that were the case then writing a letter to the editor would make one a journalist.

I cannot help but suspect that The Irish Times is deliberately muddying the waters in order to distract the non-tech-savvy from blogs. Who do they think they are fooling? I don’t care if the little old lady who makes my bread is actually a company if it tastes good - though it would be nice if they admitted it. I don’t care if the IT source a quote from a message board if it’s worth reading - though it would be nice if they didn’t call the source a blog.

Why are they bothering anyway? The bread complements the tuna perfectly. Neither are as good on their own.

* That could be blog on.

I like lists. I made one last week using a sheet of headed paper the government sent me, a carpenter’s pencil I found behind my ear and a Robert Roberts coffee stain. You can try this at home yourself. Use a tea stain if you want. Or a biro. The choice is yours.

First on my list - the garden centre. Howya getting on, Breda? I need a television plant. [Blank silent stare]

Maybe I should explain. Maybe you should. Right. I have this big TV wall bracket thing and I want something to put on it. It looks very bare. I was considering a plant. Did you consider a TV, Primal? I did for years but now I ‘d prefer looking at a plant. I might be killing the sale here, but did you consider taking down the bracket? The wall would have to come with it. I like having the wall there for hanging things on. Like TV brackets? Yeah. If I ever get a second plant, I’d need a second bracket wouldn’t I.

Next on the list - the post office in the local shop. Can I have a €50 whatchamacallit, a Musketeer voucher please? A what? The vouchers that you can use in any shop. Oh, an All-for-One voucher. There you go. That’ll be €52 please. What? €50 worth of stuff costs €52? That’s scary. I’m afraid so, Primal. Is there anything else I can frighten you with?

Actually there is. This. That’s your shopping list, Primal. Look again. A shopping list with a coffee mug stain. Robert Roberts? Yes. Java. Very nice too. But look what it is written on. Ah, a TV Licence renewal reminder. I’ll do you up one now. No! Stop! I don’t want one. You’d better. That’s a 4th reminder. They’ll be at your door and you’ll be fined for not having one. No I won’t. I don’t have a telly. [Second blank silent stare of the day]

So what do you watch in the evenings? A pot plant. You watch a pot plant. Well not watch really. More look at. The wall-bracket where the telly used be is soon to have a pot plant on it. It’s in the car. How does that work out when you’re having a pint? “Hey lads, anyone watch that aphid last night? Something else huh?” And you won’t get Comfort conditioner in a 2l size here.

Look. Can you just tell them I don’t have a telly? They wouldn’t believe me. Why don’t you just write that on the back of the reminder and send it back to them? Tried that the last three times and it didn’t work. Try it again. Can’t - my shopping list is on the back. Sorry. Can’t help ya, Primal.

Okay. Thanks anyway. Hey, what you mean about the Comfort? I read it on your list. The 750ml is the only size they do here. It’s only a small shop remember. You’ll have to go to the supermarket. So you’re saying this shop is too small for Comfort? Something like that. Anyway, good luck now - there’s a queue behind ya.

It wasn’t on the list so I added it - a pint. The pub was deserted. Suited me fine. I’d read the paper in peace. The barman’s eyes lit up with the prospect of someone to talk to. It wouldn’t be my favourite Mediterranean country but as far as Mediterranean countries go it’s okay. I suppose you’re right, Rob - and I went back to my paper. I see you’re reading the paper there, Primal. Keeping up with current affairs and world news and all that. Well, I’m trying to but someone keeps disturbing me. I suppose it’s all on about the Lisbon thing and all that. Look, Rob. Why don’t you turn on the telly for yourself. Nah, I’m fed up with it. Nothing but racing and soccer and all that. Pity I dropped the car home - I have a grand pot plant in the boot you could be watching. [Third blank stare of the day]

He shuffled off. Finally some Comfort in this town. I checked the telly listings. Sure enough, a gardening programme at 8. I have the best thing in reality TV.*

*I needed ammunition for blank stare number four in case he came back.

That’s enough isn’t it? I can stop now?

In 2002, an Irish property developer founded the Niall Mellon Township Trust with the aim of providing the poor of South Africa’s townships with housing. You can read more about it on the website.

The way it works is unlike most charities. Rather than providing money for housing, the trust actually provides the housing itself. Each year, volunteers, mainly Irish men and women, travel to South Africa and over a period of 7 days, build houses. The volunteers must raise a minimum of €5,000 each to fund travel, accommodation, building materials, machine hire etc. While those with trades are more demand, volunteers from all walks are welcome either for their specialised skills, such as medical personnel, or simply as labourers.

Last year almost 1,400 travelled and built 203 houses. Last year one of those volunteers was a friend of mine. I admire him for taking it on, for swapping his suit for shorts and t-shirt, his laptop for a shovel and the boardroom for a building site. Unused to manual labour he naturally came home exhausted, with aches and pains and bruised and scratched. Exhausted, yes, but elated. Just off the plane he was planning for the 2008 trip.

A couple of months ago the same man returned to South Africa on holiday. One of those last minute package deals and he jumped at it. A week’s break for himself and his wife.

At the first opportunity they spilt from the tour group and made their way to the township he had worked in. Like a little boy who has just built a sandcastle he was full of excitement and couldn’t wait to show off his work to his wife. His special project had been a playground.

He didn’t recognise it at first. It was destroyed. He was destroyed. The climbing frames had been hacked down, probably for firewood. The chains on the swings were gone, probably sold for scrap. Everything was broken.

For the second time in 12 months he got off a plane from South Africa. But not elated this time. Deflated. All that work. All that time. All that money. Gone. The sacrifice of having left his wife and children, one a newborn baby, at home believing he was making a difference to the lives of those more deserving. And now, nothing to show for it. Some bully had kicked over his sandcastle. The cuts and bruises this time were to his soul. The aches and pains to his heart.

He learned a lesson that everyone involved in charity work learns. I’ve learned it myself. More than once. When asked, Niall Mellon, said it is theirs now. They can do with it as they wish. He is right, though that can be hard to accept. There is only so much you can do for someone. They have to do the rest themselves.