Frank O’Flynn and Kevin O’Keefe (Son of Ned O’Keefe) from the 1999 Local elections (A Thanks to Frank for sending me these a few years back). Both candidates have been returned at each local election since.

On Thursday 19th November 2009, Cork City and County experienced major flooding. Several key buildings in Cork City were badly affected. Flooding in Cork City was also a feature of the past. I quote a book entitled “Of Timber, Iron and Stone” by Antoin O’Callaghan (published in 1991 in Cork), in which he discusses the history of the waterways of Cork City. 200 years ago, the description of the flooding seems eerily close to the recent breach of the quay wall at Bachelor’s Quay, near the Mercy Hospital!

“On the 17th January 1789, a flood such as had not been seen in the city in living memory swept through the valley, submerging everything in its path in a matter of hours. The entire city from the Mayor’s residence (the present Mercy Hospital), to the lower reaches of the harbour were completely covered, forming an inland lake. Only the vigilence of the citizens prevented a major catastrophe….”

Bachelor's Quay after floods Nov. 2009

As a genealogist, I am concerned that the new Cork County Library… purpose-built, which opened to the public on the 19th October 2009, having transferred from the Model Farm Road location, is now “closed until further notice”.  The library which had been housed in County Council premises on the Model Farm Road, closed its doors there on the 9th October 2009 and re-opened on the 19th October 2009 in a custom build annexe of the County Hall on the Carrigrohane Road (Straight Road). Its availablity to the public lasted a month before it closed again, seemingly due to flooding in the basement, where, it is reported “collections” were stored. As I write it is the 4th December and the notice on the Cork County Council website has a notice posted on the 27th November stating that the library is closed until further notice.

The Cork Examiner, 24th January 2006, describes the proposed library as follows:

For the first time in its 80 year history, the Cork County Library is to have its own purpose-built headquarters.

It will be housed in a six-storey state-of-the-art building to be constructed beside the County Hall (skyscraper) on the Carrigrohane Road. The County Library building is next door to it!

The library, currently located adjacent to the old Liebert property on the Model Farm Road – will take up an estimated 32,000 square feet in the new building.

The lower ground floor will be used for cataloguing and book storage, with natural light and ventilation from landscaped courtyards….”

The Southern Star newspaper on the 4th December 2009, quotes the Mayor of County Cork, as saying:

“NOBODY could have predicted the “deluge” that swept through towns and villages in the county over the weekend, causing extensive damage to homes and businesses, devastating County Hall and the newly-opened County Library headquarters, the Mayor of County Cork Derry Canty said this week.”

I fear the worst for the collections housed in the basement of the new library!

Below, a YouTube video of the Carrigrohane Floods, showing the Cork County Hall (skyscraper) on the top right hand side. The Cork County Library is next door to it!

Does anyone remember the flooding of the 5th August 1986?

Here is a Cork Examiner image from that newspaper on the 7th August 1986, taken from the top of County Hall. Note the old Outdoor Baths to the bottom right:

View from Cork Co. Hall, Cork Examiner 7th Aug. 1986

Given inward migration and social change in Ireland over the past twenty years it is a useful exercise to determine the extent to which Ireland’s population is socially and spatially segregated.  Reported here are the results presented at the Social Sciences and Public Policy conference held in Galway, Dec 1-2.  Segregation has been calculated using a straightforward aspatial index of dissimilarity that computes the relative size of population of two groups in an area using the demographic data reported in the 2006 census.  In this case, 22 groups were compared with a reference group – so Polish nationals to Irish nationals, Travelling community to white Irish community, lone parent families to nuclear families, etc.  The data were calculated for the Enumerator Area scale, which have an average population of 968, for the cities of Cork, Galway, Limerick, and Waterford.

In the table, red represents a very high degree of segregation through to green which is a relatively low degree of segregation.  What the results show is that the greatest degree of segregation is experienced by the Travelling community, followed by people in local authority housing, followed by non-nationals and ethnic minorities.  There is relatively little segregation around social class or status.

There is a clear difference between the four cities, with Limerick having the highest levels of segregation followed by Cork, Waterford and Galway.

The data are in the process of being computed on a time series basis between 1991 and 2006 at the Electoral District scale, and mapped for the four cities at Enumerator Area scale using location quotients and posts about those will follow at some point.

Des McCafferty

The Culchie Wrap (no audio available):

Now being a Culchie is not so tough, you might look funny and a small bit rough, some of us are single and some are dads, but I’ll tell you one thing, we’re the finest lads. Its time to bring my Culchie Wrap to a close, I’ve to go to the jacks and powder my nose. Its great to see the look on all of you’re faces, when I tell ya that us Culchies are going places.

Do culchies really like cocaine? Someone I knew was at a lock in at a pub in a village in Cork. The farmers were playin 45 and doing coke and smoking weed and drinking crates of cider. That was a few years ago so I can only presume they are worse now.

Finally a list of all the things that define being a culchie.

Sadly it is pretty accurate.

Look at what these idiots did to this kid by fooling him at an Aaaaart competition in Aaaaardee by the sounds of it:

Here is Tubridy actually getting a ride:

A knife, a fork, a bottle, and a cork. That’s the way we spell New York.
Read about it here. Or listen to Dillinger.

Cork Market Opens

The long awaited extension of Cork, Cork Market, is set to open this Friday and we couldn’t be more optimistic about its potential.

Set to open on popular 14th Street, the market is billed as serving as a food and packaged goods market, but also a community gathering spot. In addition to selling the wines featured at the main restaurant across the street, local producers will showcase jams, dairy products and desserts.  Carry-out dishes will also be available, with nightly specials prepared by Blacksalt sous chef, Kristin Hutter.

We’re excited about the combination of goods offered at Cork Market, as well as the additional loft space they plan to make available for meetings and special exhibits.  While restaurants like Tryst and Busboys & Poets (and even Whole Foods to an extent) have tried to fill the role of community hub in the past, they seem to fall short in their ability to attact patrons who are interested in spending time there on a regular basis.  Maybe it’s our busy schedules to blame – or simply the nature of living in a bit city that have made it difficult to achieve such an organic environment.

Despite these challenges, we can’t help but think that with the right combination of features and the ability to manage crowds efficiently, a place might be able to fill this void and truly become a meeting and gathering place for neighborhood friends.  We’ll see if Cork Market holds that potential this Friday.

Cork Market’s hours will be: 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. Monday-Friday, 9 a.m. to 10 p.m. Saturday, and 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. Sunday.

http://comicmac.com/?p=57

Toast is feeling ill and so is Fintan O’Toole. I found this on guardian.co.uk, he is kicking the downed tiger with a new book:

The luck of the Irish has finally run out. Having roared away lustily for a decade or so, the Celtic Tiger has now rolled over on its back, all four paws stiffly in the air. In the late 1990s, Ireland became well-heeled for the first time in its wretched history, and in some respects even outstripped its former colonial proprietors. In this newly affluent nation of software and low taxes, bent bankers and microchip exporters, house prices in Dublin shot up by 519% between 1994 and 2006, probably the biggest such boom on the planet. It was a land of massive tax breaks and of financial regulation so light as to be invisible to the naked eye. As Ireland grew more dependent on foreign investment for its manufacturing than almost anywhere else in the world, the New York Times dubbed the country “the Wild West of European finance”.

Despite the fact that much of the world’s Viagra is manufactured in County Cork, this extraordinary upthrust could not be sustained. Irish GDP is now shrinking faster than in any other advanced economy, and the country’s gross indebtedness is larger than Japan’s. House prices have fallen more rapidly than any others in Europe, and the average Irish family has lost half its financial assets. Unemployment has risen faster than anywhere else in Europe. By 2007, the country was €10bn in the red and a banking system massively complicit in fraud and tax evasion was just about to enter meltdown. In September last year it finally imploded, awash with billions in bad loans to property sharks. In its rise and fall, as Fintan O’Toole remarks in this superb polemic, “Ireland made Icarus look boringly stable.” It had moved from being the poster child of free-market globalisation to one of the great economic basket cases of modern history.

timesonline.co.uk had an article with the same levels of extremity, it starts about a property deveoper whose funeral had just taken place:

Politicians, pop stars, billionaire developers, horsemen and the sporting elite. Even the paparazzi. Rocca would have liked that. The 42-year-old was the self-styled poster boy for the new, resurgent Ireland, with a glamorous wife, private planes and helicopters, and a property business worth, at its peak in 2007, €450m. But one morning in January, he snapped. The first sign that anything was wrong was when neighbours saw him walking round the garden of his €5m house in Holmeleigh, an exclusive residential enclave of Dublin, in pyjamas. When his wife, Annette, returned home just before 9am after taking the couple’s two sons to school, she found her husband dead in the hall. He had shot himself in the head with a shotgun. The morning papers revealed the value of his business had collapsed to as little as €14m, with debts of €18m.

Rocca’s funeral was not simply a wake for one man. To many, the bells that rang out as the hearse pulled away were a lament for a nation. The Celtic tiger that transformed a beer-soaked backwater into the envy of every small nation with a thirst for a makeover is dead, and its cubs are looking to emigrate because they see no future. The signs, big and small, are everywhere. One bank, Anglo Irish, the country’s third largest, has been nationalised, and the government is negotiating bail-outs for two more. Foreign firms, notably Dell computers, are shutting factories. The family china — Waterford Wedgwood — is being sold off. Guinness has put its plans to build a €1 billion “super-brewery” into cold storage. Crowds at the horse races are down 10% and on-course betting has dropped 18%. In the most remarkable reversal of economic fortune, Poland, whose workers flocked to Ireland in the go-go years, has started hosting job fairs to attract unemployed Irish workers to Warsaw. The ad slogan? “Come to the new Ireland.”

Paddies heading for Poland? Surely it can’t be that bad? Unfortunately, it can. If you think the British economy is a mess, spare a thought for the neighbours. Ireland had a bigger boom and is now suffering a bigger bust, with fewer resources to dig itself out of the hole. In his cramped, pamphlet-strewn office on the banks of the Liffey, Professor John FitzGerald, an economist at the Economic and Social Res-earch Institute and the son of the former taoiseach, Garret Fitz-Gerald, confirms that salaries are falling, house prices have slumped by a third, the stock market is at a 14-year low, and unemployment is set to hit 12% by the end of the year. Ireland recently became the first western European country to have its top-notch credit rating downgraded from stable to negative by the ratings agencies Moody’s and Standard & Poor’s. This year, the budget deficit will reach 10%, the highest in the EU, and the government concedes the economy will shrink by 6.5%, compared with 2-3% in the UK. “This is a dramatically bigger shock for Ireland than for the UK,” FitzGerald says.

Things are so bad that Nouriel Roubini, the New York banker nicknamed Dr Doom because he predicted the global crash, says Ireland could be the next country to go bust after Iceland. He points out that Ireland got richer faster than Iceland, in much the same way, and now has many of the same problems. “If a big institution in Ireland were in trouble,” he says, “the country does not have the resources to bail them out.” Government pledges to support the banking sector by honouring all the country’s bank deposits amount to 250% of annual economic output. Ministers acknowledge the risk. In the words of Brian Lenihan, finance minister, the eco-nomy has “fallen off a cliff”. Here, MPs are so worried about default that they are advising British savers to withdraw their money from Post Office accounts, whose savings scheme is run by the Bank of Ireland. This being Ire-land, there’s a joke about it all. “What’s the capital of Ireland?” they ask. “Oh, about 20 euros.”

Those who have lost their jobs are hardly laughing. Ciaran Costello’s voice betrays anguish bordering on physical pain when he tells a tale typical of Ireland’s boom and bust. He fed and rode the Celtic tiger. He got the job, accounts manager for a luxury housing developer; the house, a three-bedroom semi in Longford, west of Dublin; and the car, a Mercedes. But then the beast devoured him. Last autumn the developer went bust and he was laid off. He could not keep up payments on the house or the car and they were repossessed. Now back home with his parents, he has decided his best business plan is to leave, but he can’t follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and head for the US “because the arse has fallen out of the economy there, too”. Instead, he’s heading for Beijing. “I’ve got a friend there who is making good money as a driver, and he says he can set me up with something. If that doesn’t work, I’ll try Australia. Living here is like whistling in a graveyard.”

What makes Ireland’s fall particularly depressing — and, to men like Costello, bewildering — is that not so long ago the Emerald Isle was the best place to live in Europe.

Dictionary definintion of bewildering

Main Entry: be·wil·der
Pronunciation: \bi-ˈwil-dər, bē-\
Function: transitive verb
Inflected Form(s): be·wil·dered; be·wil·der·ing \-d(ə-)riŋ\
Date: 1684

1 : to cause to lose one’s bearings
2 : to perplex or confuse especially by a complexity, variety, or multitude of objects or considerations

How about the consideration that you were building houses for which there is finite demand and you were spending money like it was going out of fashion? Expensive lesson much?

And for the record and before anyone mentions how gay Erasure are, it was them who sang Ship of Fools. Maybe a few more people should have listened to it when growing up instead of stuff like “when will I be famous”.

I can’t believe what is happening to me
My head is spinning
The flowers and the trees are encapsulating me
And I go spinning

He was the baby of the class you know
He really didn’t know that one and one was two
Two and two were four
He was the baby of the class you know
He really didn’t know that, really didn’t know that
Oh what a poor soul

Oooh, do we not sail on the ship of fools?
Oooh, why is life so precious and so cruel?

Se state leggendo questo post ce l’ho fatta! A far che?? Mo’ vi racconto…

Stavo dando un’occhiata a quel che succedeva su twitter e mi cade l’occhio su un post di Julius Design (http://twitter.com/juliusdesign) su una novita’ di twitter…TWITCAM!

Cosi’ mi collego e in 2 minuti sono in streaming!!! Poi trovo ninitto (http://twitter.com/ninitto) che mi segue e grazie a lui faccio un po’ di prove…

Alla sera prima di registrare l’episodio riprovo…e FUNZIONA! Riesco a trasmettere voce e musica con una qualita’ decente!

Quindi ho iniziato l’episodio live e in video strizzando l’occhio agli amici di Nowherecast!

Tra peripezie scoppiettii e problemi audio ecco l’episodio!

ASCOLTA L’EPISODIO 20 ONLINE

SCARICA L’EPISODIO 20

GUARDA IL VIDEO E ASCOLTA L’EPISODIO 20 ONLINE

Links

Alluvione a Cork

TWITCAM

Rock and Roll WEBRADIO

L’Acquario di Genova

L’Acquario di Monaco

L’alga infestante di provenienza dubbia la Caulerpa taxifolia

Il PIT tagging per marcare gli organismi

Scaletta:

Invain – River

Plunkett – The River

Acamporas – Scimmia pazza

Ben Drake – The River

Rob Costlow – The River

‘Eye on the world’ has been rather quiet this week – we blame numerous (worthy) distractions. Our Geography colleagues in Cork haven’t had the same luxury: they’ve been coping with flooded buildings and roads, an inundated university, and interruptions to the supply of water and electricity. However, geographer Denis Linehan has found time to map the responses to the flooding. His excellent community map shows where people in Cork can get access to drinking and sanitary water, as well as showers. It’s a great example of how geographers can provide useful knowledge that responds quickly to the needs of local communities.

Today is the third day of the 16 Days Campaign and there are a number of interesting events taking place around the country;

• Tearmann Domestic Violence Service awareness raising initiative
• YANA (You are not alone), Johnny Cash tribute night in Mallow
• Wellness workshop in Kildare
• Vista Community Development Project, Dublin 8 Commemoration Servivce
• Pamper Day in Donegal
• Galway Rape Crisis Centre Conference

Living in my own apartment while unemployed has sort of led to a drop in my usual dress code standards. It’s been even worse because of the cold I’ve had for the last few days. No one other than Kevin is going to see me today? Great, these fuzzy socks and college sweatshirt and fleece PJ pants will be fabulous. When we do run errands, even if it’s to someplace like Winco, it becomes an excuse to wear “nicer” jeans and maybe even put on earrings. Going to church today meant I got to wear a skirt, which hadn’t happened since my last job interview at a bank.

The morning started off well enough. I wore my black wrap dress from The Limited, thigh-high pantyhose, black patent leather heels, and even coordinating jewelry. My mom and I dropped my sister off at church early so she could practice with the choir before the service, and we went to Starbucks. I had tea, we chatted, it was warm, life was good. Things were great until we parked the car at church and began the walk up from the parking lot.

And then my pantyhose started to shift.

And then my pantyhose started to fall.

And I froze in the church parking lot, gripping my thigh, feeling like I’m about to become a pinup image at best or a Failblog post at worst. My mom looked at me.

“What’s wrong?”

“My thigh-highs are slipping.”

“You’re wearing thigh-highs?”

“They’re my favorites! They’re comfortable!”

“Well, they’re fine if you don’t have to walk much – how old are they?”

She stood so most of the parking lot might not be able to see me quite as well as I wriggled the tights back into place, trying desperately hard not to flash the elderly churchgoers. “I don’t know, a few months old. I wore them all the time in Ireland.”

“The elastic is probably worn out.”

I managed to hitch them back into place and we kept walking. We made it about eight more steps when that slipping feeling resumed. Luckily only the left leg seemed to be a problem, otherwise I might have just called in for a wheelchair and sat down and pretended to have low blood sugar for the rest of the morning.

“Still?” My mom moved us out of the way as a blissfully ignorant family passed us. I wrenched the tights up again, turning my back on the rest of the parking lot. There is absolutely no subtle way to adjust wayward tight-highs; it’s pretty much like trying to fix a wedgie. I am sure the Almighty was rolling on His metaphorical floor laughing, or at least I hope He was, otherwise this incident will be pretty high on the list of Things We’re Gonna Have A Little Chat About when I give up my ghost.

My only consolation at this point was that we are not Catholic and I would only have to stand up four or five times during the service. As long as nothing drooped past my knees, I’d be fine.

“Can you go up stairs? Do you want to take the elevator?”

“Stairs are fine. We just need to get there.”

I walked in with my hand on my thigh in what I hoped passed for a casually elegant pose, because naturally everyone’s goal at church is to pose and look casual and elegant. I sat down gratefully and enjoyed the choir and then…the first hymn arrived. We rose.

And down went the thigh-high.

Of course we were on the end of a pew, and of course I was on the outside, not my mother. And I’m sure a dozen or so churchgoers watched curiously as I tried to roll up the darn things without lifting my skirt, while trying to sing the hymn.

I still have a cold through all of this, by the way, so while I wasn’t standing and adjusting my unfortunate wardrobe, I was sitting and trying to blow my nose as unobtrusively as possible.

Three hymns later, the service ended, and I struggled out of the sanctuary maintaining my casual and elegant thigh-clasping pose. It probably looked more like I was trying to staunch a flesh wound. I hurried to the bathroom, let go of my thigh, and watched my tights roll down to my ankle like a deflated balloon. I peeled the suckers off, threw them away, and left church bare-legged and proud.

Farewell, thigh-highs. You served me well, and since you were Donna Karan hand-me-downs from my mother, I am unlikely to wear anything so grand again. Your shimmer and natural color went unmatched by my other, cheaper pantyhose. Those things make me look like I waded through self-tanning powder. I will always treasure our time together.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody. I hope your holiday was pleasantly chaotic and utterly delicious.

* Dewi magazine, June 2005

The debut opening of Roy Petley’s gallery in London caused an uproar in the West End, with people seen queuing down the street to get in. In fact, that wintry October night saw so many people in the gallery that the fire department responded four times to heat alarms going off in the building.

This dream of an art gallery began many years ago by a boy abandoned to a children’s home. Trapped in a dark and dreary world, even the beatings by his guardians could not curb Roy’s irrepressible spirit. “My escape was painting and drawing, the reality was horrible. I quite liked the fistfights but I didn’t like the beatings,” he confides. Becoming the first ever to receive a scholarship at the children’s home at the tender age of sixteen, Roy left for Brighton University but after his first semester he decided to go to Florence in the arms of a beautiful woman. His thirst for the foundations of art, well-drawn, well-coloured and well-painted works naturally drew him to the Italian masters of old; Leonardo da Vinci, and Michelangelo. Several years later, after living through his work in Italy, he returned to his homeland, England. There, he exhibited on the Green Park railings, a then melting pot of would be artists.

A chance meeting with the Duchess of Kent was the beginning of a lifelong friendship with the British royal family. The late Queen Mother and the Prince of Wales are collectors of his works, the late Queen Mother being particularly fond of his Norfolk landscapes. A whirlwind romance with an adoring public commenced, with sell-out shows following him wherever he went, from London to Barbados, Dublin to Dallas.

To satisfy his love of beautiful sports cars, three Alfa Romeos, engine red Ferraris and an E-type Jaguar once decorated his backyard. He even appeared on Good Morning Texas, flanked between William Shatner who “was on before me trying to promote a video game for Star Wars”, and a piano-playing-pot-bellied-pig who refused to perform. “It wouldn’t play the piano because it was camera shy”, Roy deduced.

Roy’s rags to riches story caught the eye of both the BBC and Sky Television, resulting in documentaries on his life and his art, and forced a change on his outlook on life. “I used to have people lining up to buy my work – but once the BBC did their documentary on me, they ended up banging on my front door trying to buy a paintings, it became a nightmare!” he exclaimed. Once dubbed the Best Dressed Man in London, this sort of major publicity was not in line with Roy’s solitary nature. In the early nineties, he chose tranquillity over fame and moved to a lonely farmhouse in the south-west of France. “I left England to become an unknown, to have a peaceful life”, he said. He quickly applied his energy to rebuilding his new-found home, which was soon to be featured in House & Garden, Homes & Gardens and Interior magazine.

the last of the sun by Roy Petley (courtesy of Petley Fine Art)

An impressionistic painter, he finds inspiration in his surroundings. In the summers, he is often found by local fishermen knee-deep in water, drawing models draped in flowing white dresses and adorned with wide-brimmed hats that Roy is known for collecting, or painting his neighbour’s children licking ice lollipops in his rose garden.

Self-taught, Roy experiments with all mediums, disclosing how he changes “mediums when I want to change my mind-set”. At his leisure, he moves effortlessly from pastel to oil, watercolour to sanguine. He speaks of each medium with equal passion, stressing on the ability to draw well being essential when working with any medium, particularly watercolour – “There is no changing it…there is only one chance”. He continues on saying, “watercolours are my reference for my oil paintings, an oil painting becomes a fuller version of the watercolour on a canvas.” He describes how Degas used to work with charcoal before drawing in the pastel, but prefers himself to draw with colour immediately. He is also is quick to illustrate that “pastel is a dusty medium and after a short period of working with it, I am always happy to return to my natural medium – oil.”

The subjects of Roy’s works are as varied as his mediums, drawing upon inspiration from anything and everything – portraits, still life, cityscapes and landscapes have all felt the touch of his brush in his paintings. “I usually have an idea of what I want to do before I begin, I see the world through my paintbrush and palette – all that remains to do is to recreate the image that I see in my mind.”

Whether it be landscape or still life, light and shadow are the basis of his works. There is a certain light and youthfulness, a grace and joyfulness that emanates from his paintings. He depicts an untouchable innocence that is reminiscent of childhood and days gone by. Although it may seem an old-fashioned and romantic world, this is Roy’s world as it exists today. Each painting draws you in, engages you with its subtle colours and soft lines.

sunlight in the dark canal by Roy Petley (courtesy of Petley Fine Art)

It is said that once you have had a show in Cork Street, you have made it in the art world. Having exhibited in galleries on the street for over a decade, Roy had reached a point in his life where he wanted to give something back. In his youth, Roy himself had approached gallery after gallery, carrying his portfolio, and had been turned away. In later years, the same galleries would beg him to exhibit with them – he wanted to provide artists with the opportunities he never had, with “a gallery they can trust, where artists feel comfortable”, where the open doors and laid back atmosphere would encourage artists – especially the younger ones. In the autumn of 2003, he did just that. “I started up the gallery because I was really fed up with how artists are treated”, he explained.

Petley Fine Art sets itself apart from other galleries because as Roy proudly states, “this is the first time an artist has owned a major gallery promoting work other than his own”. True to his word, Roy has raised the bar for the whole area by filling his gallery with only the finest paintings and sculptures from an international pantheon of artists. “We have famous artists, infamous artists, and also young artists just starting out in their careers – regardless of where they are in their careers, it is their talent that attracts us to them.”

It is this refreshing concoction of artists that gives the gallery its lively character and explains why artists enjoy exhibiting there. Neil Forster, an artist of Petley Fine Art and an established portrait painter whose sitters include The Prince of Wales, speaks highly of the gallery. “I thought this gallery opening in “the” art street of London and offering art with no over-intellectualizing or posing, is so refreshing that it must in time be one of the most visited galleries in London.”

Roy is also quick to point out that a lot of effort has been made to ensure nothing distracts from the paintings. His long-standing motto being, “the art is foremost, the gallery secondary and all emphasis is on the artists”.

Filled with boundless energy and enthusiasm, Roy floods his gallery with the same vitality he fills his paintings. Now with three galleries spread across Europe, Petley Fine Art seems to be going from strength to strength. As for Roy, does he miss the good old days when he was a struggling painter? “Well,” he laughs, saying, “I have artists ringing up at 4 AM telling me their problems with their wives who are jealous of their models. One artist calls up and says can I come see you now? I think, what’s going on here?”

Petley Fine Art
9 Cork St
London
W1S 3LL
+44 207 494 2021
http://www.petleys.co.uk/

(photo: Titania Veda)

We will be constantly updating our website with news and features.

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Novembro está sendo um mês de emoções extremas.

Na verdade, toda a viagem tem sido cercada com muitas emoções (não é que o Robertinho tem razão?!) Final de outubro tivemos a visita da amiga-irmã Simone, com quem aproveitamos bastante. Fomos a alguns pubs (normal!), nightclubs (Cafe en-Seine – faltou espaço!), e, é claro, “surfamos” pela Irlanda (Cork e Galway). Inesquecível! Já em novembro, todos os holofotes foram voltados para o mega-evento-viagem, em comemoração ao sétimo aniversário anual (é claro!) dos 25 anos, do querido Henrique Hamilton, em Paris. Foi um luxo só! Lá, tivemos o prazer de visitar a Euro Disney, a Torre Eiffel, a Galeria Lafayete (mesmo fechada), o Museu do Louvre, o Arco do Triunfo, uma boa caminhada pelo corredor do Rio Seinne, a Catedral de Notre Dame, a famosa Champs Elisee, onde, inclusive, Henrique e eu fechamos a viagem com “chave de ouro”, na boite mais badalada, afinal, a noite era do “King”. Deu para imaginar como ficamos, né? As roletas do metrô e trem de Paris que não nos vejam tão cedo…

Todos los días son días de fiestas!!

Foram tantas emoções e aventuras que desde o retorno, eu, pelo menos, estou me acalmando aos poucos. Estou passando por um momento de muita reflexão, introspecção, avaliação, todas as “ações” possíveis e imagináveis em busca do meu equilíbrio, se é que eu tive algum dia, pois estamos quase completando seis meses (5 de dez) longe do calor natural e humano da família e dos amigos queridos. Tudo é muito lindo, oportunidade sem igual, mas essa parte merece um destaque – é duro! – Parece pouco tempo, quando penso no que ainda tenho para realizar, mas é o suficiente para uma pequena pausa, afinal, é a metade do começo de mais um ano. Uma coisa eu certifico: ” – Até agora, foram os seis meses mais intensos de toda a minha vida!!!”.

Vamos que vamos…

Um beijo grande, cheio de amor e saudade,

Elaine Santos.

La noche del pasado jueves al viernes no se me olvidará fácilmente y es que viví mi primera riada.
Ya durante toda la tarde del jueves parecía que estábamos en las Filipinas dado que la lluvia era muy fuerte y hacía muchísimo viento. De hecho, en el trabajo se portaron muy bien y nos pusieron un bus privado para esa tarde para volver a casa.
Llegando a casa me encontraba estampas como ésta:

Negocio sí, negocio también, todos con los sacos de arena en las puertas, como si de Venecia se tratara. Yo al principio pensé que se estaban flipando un poco, pero al día siguiente cuando fui a la parada y me dijeron que no había buses porque todo el centro estaba anegado de agua, empecé a pensar que igual no flipaban tanto. Así que el viernes me tocó ir andando al trabajo, casi 50 minutos mañaneros. Despertar me desperté, pero casi prefiero llegar un poco más dormidillo… Al menos yo pude ir que hay quien no pudo ni salir de casa dado que los bajos y la calle tenían medio metro de agua.

Os dejo aquí un link de un vídeo para que comprobéis el estado de las principales calles, y ésta no era la peor ni mucho menos:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/bcie/4119032463/

El problema, aparte de los atascos formados por el corte de las principales calles (imaginaros que cortaran a la vez el Paseo Independencia, la Gran Vía, Paseo Pamplona y Cesaraugusto… aunque esto me recuerda al tranvía :p ), es que resulta que por un error humano se inundaron también las depuradoras y por miedo a que el agua se hubiera contaminado, casi la mitad de la ciudad de Cork se quedó sin agua. De hecho, todavía no la tienen, está previsto que se restaure el servicio este fin de semana.
Imaginaros una semana entera sin agua! Ni ducha, ni grifo, ni cocina… Por suerte a mí no me ha afectado esto, aunque también han lanzado un aviso de que no bebamos agua del grifo.

Lo más extraño es que las riadas en Cork no son cosa nueva y suelen suceder cada cierto tiempo, pero… ¿están haciendo algo por evitarlo? Por lo que oigo, va a ser que no.

Cork se llevó un buen susto y varapalo, pero localidades como Fermoy tuvieron una riada mucho peor dado que los puentes quedaron completamente innaccesibles y las dos partes de la ciudad estuvieron incomunicadas por carretera.

Submitted by: Yooee – own pics of my first car named BAT MUELLER, 1989/90 via Submit a Kludge!

Favorite Comment: Fixer K says, “Someone is too fancy for pliers!”

barn wood and cork flooring

in a renovation by M. Gerwing Architects

Expanko Cork planks, owner-supplied barn wood

renovation built by Cottonwood Custom Builders

I have gone through the improving restaurants and the declining restaurants.  The only ones left are the ones that  are new or my new favorites this year…

Notable or New:

Blue Duck Tavern: This year, this has almost been our go-to restaurant.  We have celebrated everything here from a graduation to our engagement.  That speaks to the trust we have in Chef Brian McBride. Every time we’ve been there the food has been consistently excellent.  I highly recommend the roast chicken, duck fat fries or the braised beef rib.

American Flatbread: This one actually falls  into the ‘new’ category.  American Flatbread is a small chain, but just opened up a hearth in Clarendon in our building.  So far the pizza has been good, though a bit on the pricey side.  The good news is the managers are very nice, and it’s close.  My suggestion, have a “$5 off pizza night” to lighten the sting of a $20-$22 pizza.

Cork: Easily my favorite winebar out of the bunch that I’ve been to.  Reasonable prices, good wine, and great food combine for a fun night out.  I highly recommend getting a cheese plate, the olives, pork loin and mushrooms.  If you’re okay waiting a bit and dining in a more noisy than usual dining room, then you won’t be disappointed.

Others: I haven’t tried these places out yet but here’s more that I’m looking forward to:

• Founding Farmers – I’m trying it out this Saturday.  I’m not too excited by Tom Sietsema comparing it to the Cheesecake Factory, but everyone else I know thought it was a good restaurant.
• Screwtop Winebar – The winebar that’s going into my building.  Should be opening up this December.

That’s it!  Thanks for reading and hopefully sharing what restaurants you’ve found to be getting better, getting worse, or always stayed awesome.

‘Cortica’chaise Longue by Daniel Michalik

Brooklyn based New Yorker, designer Daniel Michalik, has made this textural, ergonomic, undulating, chaise longue from pure cork (reclaimed waste material from the bottle-stopper industry), non-toxic marine-grade adhesive, and a small amount of polyurethane.

Cork has tremendous potential to perform in ways unlike any other material, as well as being an environmentally responsible material. This piece shows the material’s ability to bend in two directions simultaneously, creating complex three-dimensional forms laminated from a flat sheet. Cork being a renewable material, it is both  lightweight and naturally waterproof , and resilient to rot and mould, and therefore  can be used indoors or outdoors. The balanced form, along with the pliability of the material allows one to rock gently from side to side with a great degree of stability. The result is a  floating sensation , weightless yet totally supported…… presumably could float in a pool……the ultimate eco lilo….don’t try this at home!!

www.danielmichalik.com

On my flight from Cork to London (the first of 3 flights and the start of a 2 day journey to New Zealand!!) I got talking to the guy next to me on the plane about blogs. He told me how how he knows lots of people with excellent blogs and wondered did I have one.  Considering this is my first real blog post, I may have lied a little!!

Upon arrival in the nightmare that is heathrow airport he helped me find my way around and check in etc and continued to buy me a few beloved pints of bulmers (we did have 5 hours to kill!). He told me how he had failed his leaving certificate and never went to college yet has spent the past 14 years working in China for a company that makes accessories for i-phones and blackberries and other la dee daa smart phones and employs over 800 people worldwide.

 He used his own to find us an excellent restaurant with the help of an application called YELP which people can tell you shops, bars and restaurants in the vicinity with a click of a button and you can even read reviews. Technology continues to boggle my mind.

He carried on how he knows the guy who set up Facebook, the CEO of Blackberry and other high fliers. It wasn’t until we had talked for hours that I realised that he didn’t just work for this company…he owned it!! Just shows that formal education ain’t everything. It is moments or encounters like this that make travelling so awesome and REALLY opens up your eyes to the endless possibilties in life. Get out there and MAKE that dream come true, cause that’s what I plan on doing.

Next stop Singapore.

An international crackdown on the use of woods from the world’s rain forests to make musical instruments bubbled over to Music City on Tuesday with a federal raid on Gibson Guitar ’s manufacturing plant, but no arrests.

Assistant U.S. Attorney John Webb said the search warrant was obtained based on information in a sealed affidavit outlining the investigation.

Agents of the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service made a midday appearance and served a search warrant on company officials at Gibson’s Massman Drive manufacturing plant, where it makes acoustic and electric guitars.

Some hardwoods traditionally used in making premium guitars, such as rosewood from the rain forests of Madagascar and Brazil, have been banned from commercial trade because of environmental concerns under a recently revised federal law.

Under the U.S. Lacey Act, trading in such banned woods is a federal offense, punishable by civil and criminal penalties or the seizure of property. Last year, the U.S. Congress amended a turn-of-the-century wildlife protection law (the Lacey Act) to extend its reach to endangered timber species and plants. See the next post Where Were You When Wood Became A Felony?