Today, Monday, 16 October 2023, marks 21 years to the day since I became a father, something I’m enormously proud of and very, very happy about. However, it is also a bittersweet day, because the (other) person who made that possible (in addition to my beautiful wife) is not here to celebrate this milestone with us. As some of you may know, our beautiful son, Jake, who was born on Friday, 25 October 2002 only lived for 9 days.
Among the many thoughts that crossed my mind during those agonising early days without him, was the prospect of not being able to celebrate the many firsts in his life, which would also be firsts in ours. These include his first Christmas, his first birthday, taking his first steps, his first day at school, his first school concert, his First Holy Communion, learning to ride a bike, his tenth birthday, his Confirmation, becoming a teenager, learning to drive, school graduation, turning 18, 20 and many, many more.
However, the one milestone that has always stuck out for me, as one I actually feared, was the occasion of his 21st birthday. I’m not entirely sure why, to be honest, but I’ve definitely always had it in my head as being that little bit different to the others, in a way that loomed large on the horizon.
Perhaps it’s because, in Irish culture, reaching this age often signals a formal passage from childhood to adulthood, where parents feel a sense of accomplishment (or success) for having gotten a child to that point in their life which, in our case, may not be the case.
We are, of course, blessed to have other children in our lives and have the good fortune and privilege of celebrating many of the above milestones with them. However, at the time of Jake’s passing those feelings were impossible to escape, and I guess they never fully went away.
Celebrate the Journey
You can’t go far in life without hearing at least one version of the saying about life being about “the journey, not the destination”. I’ve definitely seen my fair share of examples of this playing out in my personal and professional life, across a wide spectrum of areas.
However, the example that stands out the most is actually happening today. While it’s true that the firsts in Jake’s life were incredibly hard to endure without him, it’s equally true that each one has served as a welcome reminder of him. They gave us a reason to remember him, either alone or together with our extended family or lifelong friends. Without Jake in our life, those occasions would never have happened and the memories we created would not exist today.
Therefore, in his own special way, he shaped our journey anyway and it’s with the benefit of a lot of hindsight that we can be immensely grateful that today is not a destination – it’s just another part of the life journey that he continues to guide us along.
I began taking some extra exercise at the beginning of 2022, in the form of walking near my home town of Tramore, Co. Waterford in Ireland. After completing 7 days in a row, walking 4 km per day, I decided to keep going to see if I could make it to 28 days in a row, which I did.
I then added an extra kilometre to my route and set my sights on 50 days, which soon became 100, which became 200 followed by 300 and finally, today, Saturday, 31 December 2022, I am delighted to have completed 365 consecutive days of walking. With an average of 5 km per day, that’s a grand total of 1,825 kilometres for the year!
While chatting about this with various people during the final weeks of 2022, the questions about why and how kept coming up. As I recounted the same answers each time, I was encouraged to share some insights into what inspired me to undertake this personal accomplishment, how I did it and what I have learned from it. Here are some of those insights.
There were two main reasons why I undertook the journey that has transpired – why I started it (primary) and why I finished it (secondary). On reflection, only the first of these was apparent to me at the beginning of 2022.
The primary goal was to improve the amount of regular exercise I was getting, or not getting as was actually the case. Having an office-based job for all my professional working life, with a busy family life, I had known for some time that I was simply not getting nearly enough exercise. For me, the Covid-19 pandemic made this worse but also, eventually, made it more apparent, so I decided to finally try doing something about it in 2022.
The secondary goal, which only emerged towards the end of January 2022, was driven more by an emergent desire for personal accomplishment – to see if I could actually make it all the way to the end of the year without missing a day and, if so, what might I learn (or benefit) from that.
Anyone who knows an Irish person will know that we just love to talk about the weather. And so it is only fitting that I begin my insights with some reflections on this aspect of my journey.
Barring a proper bout of snow, which rarely happens in Ireland anyway (even less so in the seaside town where I live), I think I walked in all of the typically Irish weather conditions during 2022, which included wind, rain, fog, hailstones, balmy sunshine and frosty cold.
I think the warmest I walked in was 30C (in August) and the coldest was -4C (in December) and I can say with absolute certainty that, while dry weather was definitely preferable, it was the wind that really, really tested my resolve above anything else. Not only was windy weather significantly more draining on energy levels (burning more calories to walk the same distance) but it ruined any audio tracks I was listening to along the way, while raising body temperatures higher than wanted.
Surprisingly, for a country that sees a lot of rain, I only had to wear full-blown waterproof clothing around 5 times during the entire year and, of those, I only actually got properly wet around twice. This was partly due to the accuracy of the weather forecasting provided by Ireland’s national broadcaster, RTE, whose predictability allowed me to time many of my walks avoiding any rain.
Ironically, the very last day of the year was one of the wettest of the year too.
Well over 90% of my walks took the same basic route, which was a loop from my house to the Tramore beach area, along the promenade and then back home again via a slightly different road, which was almost exactly 5 km in total length.
There were some days when, either because of weather or other circumstances, I was only able to manage 3 or 4 km, with 2 km being the absolute minimum I settled for. I made up for any difference by walking a little extra on other days but this was significantly less than 10% of the time overall.
It was only during holidays or day/weekend trips that alternative routes were used and these were usually devised with the goal of keeping my monthly averages ticking over.
Curiously, a key factor in surviving my year-long escapade was avoiding boredom – something that quickly seemed to stymie previous attempts to take regular exercise. In this regard, it was my Smartphone (and Spotify) that made the real difference, in the form of podcasts and music.
I think that, for every 4 weeks I spent listening to podcasts, I spent one week listening to music. The musical themes varied highly, often being influenced by podcast topics, which included:
Playlists with songs whose basic rhythm were precisely 120 beats per minute, which seemed to suit my natural stride.
Numerous guilty pleasures from the 1970s and 1980s, including Bryan Adams, Bon Jovi, Van Halen, Metallica, Billy Joel, Queen, Prince, ABBA and Creedence Clearwater Revival.
The Soundtracks to several movies (incl. Platoon, O’ Brother Where Art Thou, Forrest Gump, The Commitments, Baby Driver, Pulp Fiction)
Relistening to compilations that I used to own on cassette tape (incl. Now That’s What I Call Music Volume 4 and The Hits Tape Volume 2)
Rediscovering a wide range of Classical Music (incl. Strauss, Bach and Mozart).
Ireland’s own Jack Lukeman, who released a new album on vinyl during 2022 too.
The main podcasts I listened to (which could easily justify an entire separate article) included:
The Documentary on One series from RTE is an absolute treasure trove of fascinating stories dating back several decades and, with each one being around 45 minutes in length, they are also ideally suited to the duration of most of my walks. I definitely had a lot of favourites here (and skipped a few too) but far too many to list them individually here. This series is absolutely worth exploring in more detail, though, and I highly recommend it.
So, looking back at my year of walking, what do I think I achieved from it?
I set out expecting that improvements in my general fitness would be the main takeaway from this exercise (pardon the pun) and indeed it was. Back in January, it was taking me 40 minutes to walk 4 km and I was in really poor shape after doing so (aching, sweating).
However, I am now able to comfortably walk 5 km in the same amount of time (40 minutes), which equates to a brisk pace of 7.5km per hour. In addition, there are no particular dramatics in terms of body temperature or major fatigue afterwards (unless it’s very windy or rainy, of course).
For added fun, I also did all of my walking without a fitness tracker and instead gauged my fitness progress based on where, within a specific playlist of a very specific length (e.g. 45 minutes) I managed to complete my walk. When I first set out, I was just happy to get home before the playlist ended but I then set my sights on finishing before the guitar solo in the last song and then getting there with an entire song to spare. Maybe my daughter is right – I’m such a tech nerd after all!
I’ve heard lots of people talking about wellbeing and using “good for the soul” narratives in the past, but was never quite sure if/how this applied to walking. I’m happy to report that I think I now understand what they were referring to.
Apart from the innate sense that my new exercise regime is good for me (and seeing small wins via improvements in my general fitness), I have found immense personal satisfaction in having completed an entire year of walking. Admittedly, there are a great many people who take just as many steps in an average day during normal life, so it’s less about the distance and more about the commitment I gave it.
The other benefit I felt, which sits within the wellness genre also, was the simple joy to be had in hearing certain songs from a playlist begin just as the ocean came into view, or as the moon appeared from behind some clouds, or as some other aspect of nature took my breath away, all to the sound of a strong musical beat, guitar solo or a poignant lyric.
I found these enormously uplifting, even emotional at times, and drew wonderful energy from them, which is a benefit that I definitely was not expecting when I set out back in January.
Perhaps less unique to walking and more to do with simply being outdoors, I also found the various sights and sounds of mother nature to be enormously refreshing. From picturesque dawns and dusks, to stunning sunsets, starry nights and full moons, combined with the smell of fresh cut grass, low tide, cotton candy or fish & chips, there was plenty to savour here too.
Education and Musical Rediscovery
At 45-50 minutes per walk, I reckon I spent close to 300 hours listening to music or podcasts. Not only were many of the podcasts hugely educational (far more than I expected) but I also found myself discovering so much music that I’d forgotten I liked too. I had a few guilty pleasures thrown in here for good measure as well, all of which added to the enjoyment of the time I spent walking.
A few people have asked me if I’m going to keep the momentum going by continuing to walk every day in 2023. While I’ll absolutely keep walking regularly, I’ve not yet decided if I can truly justify or sustain the commitment needed for another year.
Upgrading to jogging is an option to consider too, as is walking a slightly longer distance every other day. I’m just mindful of the pressure to walk every single day, which could easily become an obsession that counteracts the other benefits, and there were definitely times this year when it felt a little this way so I’m very keen to avoid this spoiling the underlying purpose of the exercise.
All in all, it was a journey I’m very glad I started and I’m definitely not done, so you’ll definitely see me out and about near my home town regularly in 2023. I’m also immensely grateful to my wife for creating the extra time and space in our busy family life to allow me to venture out at random times during the day, every single day, in all kinds of weather.
Tuesday, 6 December 2022 was a significant day in Irish history as it marked 100 years since the Constitution of the Irish Free State came into effect (on Tuesday, 6 December 1921). The free state was not the same thing as the Republic of Ireland that we know today, though, and was merely designated as a dominion of the British Empire (following the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1922).
Therefore, while it was an independent entity from the United Kingdom (a significant development in its own right), the fact it was still a part of the British Empire made it an unpopular outcome for many of those involved in the centuries-long struggle for Irish freedom and independence.
The Irish War of Independence
Predating the formation of the Irish Free State in 1922 was the Irish War of Independence, which took place from 1919 to 1921. Also known as the Anglo-Irish War, this came about as a result of the fallout from the Easter Rising of 1916 and was fought between the Irish Republican Army (IRA) and British forces still occupying the island of Ireland at that time.
This is not to be confused with the Irish Civil War, which took place later (June 1922 to May 1923), following the establishment of the Irish Free State, which was still a part of the British Empire.
It would be another 15 years before a new constitution was adopted in 1937, when the state was renamed as Ireland, effectively becoming a republic in its own right. However, it was not until 1949 that the official republic declaration would be made, following the Republic of Ireland Act of 1948.
Therefore, as we commemorate the significance of this day in our chequered history, we should also remember all those whose visionary and brave efforts made such a thing even possible. My Grandfather, Edmund (Neddie) Mernin, was one of those people and this is his revolutionary story.
Neddie Mernin: The Irish Revolutionary
Edmund (Neddie) Mernin, was born in October 1892 near Villierstown, Co. Waterford in Ireland. He was the eldest of 14 siblings (8 boys and 6 girls), the youngest of which was born in 1915, and 7 of whom emigrated to America during the 1920s.
Neddie spent most of his career in the Irish Forestry Department as a Timekeeper at Dromana Wood (near Villierstown) and lived his entire life in Villierstown, marrying Mary (Mai) Foley from Affanne, Cappoquin in 1933. They had 10 children of their own (7 boys and 3 girls), one of whom died in infancy.
Neddie was a member of Battalion 3 in the West Waterford Brigade of the Irish Republican Army (IRA), serving his home village, his county and his country proudly and fearlessly from 1917 to 1921.
He was also not the only member of the extended Mernin family to play an active role in events during that time with Lily Mernin also operating as a spy for Michael Collins in Dublin Castle, supplying critical intelligence that helped shape numerous offensives.
While attending a commemorative parade in Dublin with my own daughter in 2016, to mark the 100th anniversary of the Easter Rising of 1916, we happened upon a conversation about my Grandfather and his involvement in the events around that time. As I was not entirely sure of the specifics myself, I asked an uncle about it, who duly produced some active service papers that revealed some fascinating insights into a world that few of us knew existed until then.
The papers, which numbered 5 in total, were crafted as part of an application for an Irish army pension in the 1950s and contained detailed accounts of my Grandfather’s revolutionary activities before and during the War of Independence, the period from April 1917 to July 1921.
In each case, the carefully preserved (and now laminated) documents show the start and end date of each period of service, the unit, district and operational commander served, as well as details of the duties carried out. Here is a catalogue of what these service papers contained:
1 April 1917 – 31 March 1918
Spanning a total of 365 days, this period was served mostly in the Villierstown Company of Waterford Battalion of the Irish Volunteers (a.k.a. IRA). The districts covered included Villierstown, Kereen, Aglish and Ballinameela and the Commanding Officer was Ed Walsh from Curraghroche, near Cappoquin, Co. Waterford.
The period was spent mostly carrying out military duties and orders, which included:
Drilling, route marches, military manoeuvres and parades in connection with army conscription activities.
Other references cited on the service papers for this period were Ed Walsh (Company OC, Curraghroche, Cappoquin), Jas Mansfield (Dungarvan) and Pat Whelan (Brigade OC, Dungarvan). Our assumption is that the term OC meant Commanding Officer.
1 April 1918 – 31 March 1919
This was largely a continuation of the previous period, spanning a similar duration and serving in the same unit, covering the same districts under the same Commanding Officer, Ed Walsh.
The period was also mostly spent carrying out military orders, including:
Drilling, military manoeuvres and military duties in connection with an Election in 1918.
The same people were noted as additional references on the service paper for this period.
1 April 1919 – 31 March 1920
While still a continuation of the previous service period, spanning a similar duration and serving in the same unit, the only district noted on the service paper was Villierstown. The Commanding Officer remained the same, however, and was recorded as Ed Walsh from Curraghroche.
However, by this time the War of Independence had formally begun and the duties recorded on the service papers took a more serious tone. They noted military orders and discipline, including:
Outpost duty during an Income Tax office raid in June 1919 and (also on outpost duty) in connection with the burning of Villierstown RIC station in November 1919.
In this context, RIC refers to the Royal Irish Constabulary, which was the British administered police force in Ireland from 1822 until 1922. The RIC would be better known in Irish historical folklore as the Black and Tans, in deference to the main colours in their uniform. Specifically, though, the term Black and Tans actually refers to constables that were recruited into the RIC as reinforcements during the War of Independence, not the entire police force itself.
For this period, only Ed Walsh (Curraghroche, Cappoquin) was noted as an additional reference.
1 April 1920 – 31 March 1921
While still a continuation of the previous service period, spanning a similar duration, the unit recorded on the service papers was Third Battalion and the districts covered included Villierstown and Cappagh. Ed Walsh (Curraghroche, Cappoquin) was once again recorded as the Commanding Officer for this period.
Once again, against the backdrop of the War of Independence, the duties recorded continued along a serious (and dangerous) vein, noting military orders and discipline which included:
Taking part in the destruction of Villierstown Courthouse (including books and documents) in September 1920, raiding for shotguns, ferrying comrades (November 1920) and the destruction of Coolrue and Geosh bridges.
Additional references cited on the service papers for this period included Ed Walsh (Company OC, Curraghroche, Cappoquin), Matt Lynch (Ballingown, Cappoquin) and someone whose surname was Shanahan (Aglish, Cappoquin).
1 April 1921 – 11 July 1921
The final service paper spanned a shorter period of just 100 days, recording the unit as Company III Battalion, Waterford Brigade, I.R.A. (presumably the same one as before) and covering the districts of Dromore and Curraghroche. The Commanding Officer was once again Ed Walsh.
With the War of Independence still ongoing the activities recorded included being subject to military duties and discipline, involving:
Total destruction of Coolrue and Geosh bridges, building a dump at Dromore for the concealment of arms, cutting a trench with felled trees at Curraghroche (June 1921) and preparation for an expected arms landing at Helvick, near Dungarvan, Co. Waterford.
The additional references cited on the service papers for this period included Ed Walsh (Company OC, Curraghroche, Cappoquin), Tom Cotter (Aglish, Cappoquin) and Matt Lynch (Ballingown, Cappoquin).
Neddie Mernin died peacefully at his home in Villierstown in February 1983, aged 90, where he had lived his entire life without ever being admitted to a hospital.
At his funeral, which was attended by a number of Irish Government officials, his coffin was draped with the Irish Tricolour and was adorned with his military service medals. A Firing Party drawn from the First Motor Squadron, Fermoy, Co. Cork also fired three volleys over his grave as The Last Post was sounded by a Bugler from Dungarvan FCA (part of the Irish Army Reserves at that time).
I can still recall the solemn, crisp air being pierced by the deafening shrill of the shots being fired over his coffin. Mixed among the tears of sadness shared by the thousands of people present were tears of pride and gratitude for one of so many brave souls of their time.
It is only with the passage of time, on seeing the Republic of Ireland flourish as a continued and modern democracy, that we can truly learn to appreciate the bravery and fortitude of men like Neddie, as well as the many women that supported and aided them all along the way.
– Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.
I wish to thank Michael “Feeney” Mernin for giving his permission to share details from Neddie’s active service papers in this way, as well as thanking John Mernin for providing numerous historical actuaries that complemented Neddie’s story.
For parents everywhere that are living with the loss of a child, my wife and I still take comfort in these words which we composed on the passing of our first-born son, Jake, who was born twenty years ago today on Wednesday, 16 October 2002.
The moment that we saw you our hearts were filled with joy We wept in adoration for our little baby boy You were our little angel, the product of our love You were all we ever dreamed of, a gift from God above Alas, it was not meant to be and you were needed by another We hope that they will cherish you as much as me and your mother How it hurts to let you go; the pain may never leave But time will help us all to cope; in that we must believe You are our son, of that we’re sure, and it may take us many years To rebuild our lives without you here to wipe away our tears
We shared some additional thoughts on what his short life taught us in Life Lessons from an Angel which was published in 2020, on what would have been his 18th birthday.
Like anyone that has worked in the IT industry for as long as I have, I’ve encountered my fair share of horror stories (or learning opportunities, as we later learned to call them), where technology lets you down or behaves in completely unforeseen ways, with highly stressful consequences.
One of my all-time favourite examples of this (although it didn’t feel like it at the time) involved Santa Claus, of all people, and having told the story in person so many times, I finally found the time to write it down (just in time for Christmas) in all its glorious detail.
Full credit goes to Evan Shortiss and Philip Hayes (who lived through this with us) for helping to tell the story in this format, with Evan devising the article title and Philip providing the technical accuracy to back it up. So here goes…
A Christmas Tale
It was 23 December 2011 and the hardworking staff at our startup company, which was punching above its weight in the mobile applications and cloud space at the time, were on the wind down to a well deserved Christmas break after a very busy and successful year.
‘Twas two nights before Christmas, when all through the house, not an engineer was stirring, not even their mouse…
As their Cloud Operations team had done their due diligence and introduced a platform change freeze the week before (notifying customers accordingly and finalising a support crew that could assist if any issues arose during the holidays, which rarely happened anyway), most of the staff has already started their holidays in the days before, so the office was pretty calm and quiet.
One of our larger profile customers at the time ran the local national airport and were using a custom solution powered by our platform to provide flight information and other services to airport customers. Their solution comprised a publicly available, cross-platform mobile app with a cloud-based, Node.js backend that integrated with some of their own backend systems, parsing data that was delivered via a message queue and storing it in a local cache.
Then, suddenly, the phone rang…
The customer’s mobile app had just stopped working on the busiest day of the year, leaving thousands of passengers virtually stranded, with no up-to-date flight information. Nothing had changed, though; we were in a change freeze and this same application had been operating flawlessly for months, processing hundreds of thousands of messages without issue. This was quickly verified by the dutiful support crew who confirmed that no changes had been made to the front-end or back-end of the application, and yet the mobile app continued to fail.
In the hours that followed, long into the evening that was, almost every engineer in the company was summoned back from holidays to help get to the root cause of this issue, with stress levels on the increase and patience declining fast. There was also no sign of anyone that looked even remotely like Hans Gruber to blame for the drama that ensued 🙂
Some time later, one of the engineers discovered (via some system logs) that some of the code responsible for parsing messages from the customer’s backend systems was throwing errors. Specifically, the code that mapped airline (ICAO) codes to human readable airline names had a hardcoded table with predefined entries, supporting only the entries in that table and generating errors for anything else it encountered.
Having verified that there was, in fact, decent error handling in place for the code segment in question, this still did not explain why the backend application was still crashing continuously. A few more hours passed and attention turned to the actual data being sent by the customer’s messaging system. It was not the only remaining variable in the entire equation at hand.
And then, suddenly, there it was, staring us in our (now very red) faces. Santa was on his way!
It turns out that, through their inner child and the goodness of their hearts, and in keeping with what had become an annual tradition, the airport IT staff had injected a fake flight (by Santa Airlines) into the arrivals messaging queue. However, the associated airline code (SAN) was not in the table of predefined entries in the backend application, so was generating an error.
However, cruelly, it then transpired that while the error was being caught and handled, there was a small bug in the error handling routine which was preventing the application from processing subsequent messages, ultimately causing it to crash, over and over again.
So, in the end, the addition of a fake flight to bring some festive cheer to airport customers and their families exposed a hidden bug in our application, which “sleighed” our backend!
No matter how reliable you believe your data is, or how long your application has been running without issue, edge cases will still happen. A simple unit test would have caught the bug described above and prevented this high profile system from failing at one of the busiest times of the year, causing enormous amounts of stress to everyone involved.
My amazing daughter presented me with a Harley Benton DIY Bass Guitar Kit recently and I finally completed the project to design and assemble it (with her help along the way). These kits are surprisingly well made and the bulk of the effort in building them was spent designing the finish of the body and shape of the headstock, after which final assembly was pretty straightforward. Here is a snapshot of what this very enjoyable family project involved.
The Guitar Kit
There are a few styles available in this range and mine was the classic Precision model. The kit itself included a finished timber body and neck (with a generic headstock that you can shape to your liking), along with a scratchboard and all the other electronics and mechanics needed.
The instructions were also pretty comprehensive and very clear so there were no major issues to report with regard to assembly or functionality of the finished article, although the choice of online images showing what’s in the kit was surprisingly limited (as you can see above).
Our initial plan was to simply paint the body in a plain colour, perhaps a gold or silver, but we felt this would be too simple (and, quite frankly, boring) so we then tried our hand at rendering a partly concealed LEGO brick pattern, hiding beneath a cracked, plain surface. However, we just weren’t happy with how this was working out so we sanded it down again and went back to the drawing board, as they say.
My daughter then suggested we try our hand at hydro-dipping, which involves (spray) painting the surface of a large container of water and slowly immersing the guitar body into it, where the thin film of (spray) paint formed on the surface transfers onto the guitar as you insert it.
We decided on a 3-4 colour blue/white pattern for this and before applying our base coat, we first applied a few coats of basic white primer.
We then applied around 3-4 coats of our midrange blue base colour, allowing around 3-4 hours for each coat to dry and sanding lightly in between coats to iron out any blisters or excess coverage from the previous coats.
Next, after waiting for a relatively calm day, we prepared our impromptu outdoor hydro-dipping studio (not sure if that’s what you’d call it), which consisted of a plastic storage container large enough to accommodate the entirety of the guitar body at a shallow angle (so with sides could be covered in a single attempt), a selection of white and blue spray paints (but not including the base colour) as well as a wire coat hanger (no DIY project is complete without one of those)!
We also attached a short wooden plank to the guitar body so it could be cleanly immersed into (and out of) the water to maximise the amount of the body the sprayed paint would cover.
While this worked, to a point, and we got a pretty good effect on our first attempt, we realised that doing it outdoors caused the spray paint to dry very quickly and this caused a lot of blistering and poorly covered areas on the body, which needed sanding down afterwards (before varnishing).
We also felt that too much of the base coat, which we both really liked, had been lost in translation so we decided to re-apply a light coating of the base coat over the sanded hydro effect, which actually turned to be a masterstroke, giving it a beautiful knurly, marble effect in the end. A few coats of (sprayed) gloss varnish later (with 2-3 hours in between), the body was finally finished!
It also seems that, in all this excitement, we forgot to take a photo of the body at that stage of completion but don’t worry, keep reading and all will be revealed at the end.
The second major challenge was to select a suitable shape for the generic headstock provided in the kit. After some research online, I decided to go with something inspired by Van Halen bassist, Michael Anthony, who played a very nice Schecter precision-style bass for a time.
After failing to locate a template for this online, I took my chances with printing a cropped version of the above photo, multiple times with varying degrees of scale, until I got one that approximated the size of the generic headstock in the kit. After a quick trip to my brother’s house, to use his microfile saw and vice, I had the basic shape that I was after.
I then set about using my Dad’s old (wood/steel) files to smoothen and deepen the various edges and curves by hand, until I was finally happy with the outcome, which also turned out great!
After a few coats of (sprayed) matt varnish, the headstock was also ready for final assembly.
Armed with the completed body and headstock, both of which had been varnished (with a gloss effect on the body and a matt effect on the headstock), we set about final assembly.
You’ll note the marble effect on the body that we mentioned earlier, which was achieved by applying (several coats of) a base coat, a single hydro dipping of both sides, followed by sanding and reapplying 1-2 light coats of the base coat again (followed by varishing). The remaining pieces needed for assembly were all provided in the kit (below).
The only real challenge we had during assembly was locating the pre-drilled holes for the pickups on the body, which had become invisible due to the layers of primer, base coat and hydro dipping. We solved this by fitting the scratchboard first, which helped us relocate the pickup holes.
We also had to clip a tiny sliver from the inner edge of the scratchboard, where it seemed a little too tight against the neck (where the neck was fitted to the body).
The Finished Article
While the design and finishing of the body and headstock took several weeks of elapsed time to complete (with various weather-induced delays and trial & error phases along the way), the final assembly of the finished guitar took just under 2 hours (including the tweaks above), and here it is!
I have to say, I couldn’t be happier with it. It’s exactly the look and finish I was hoping for and it plays and sounds as good as it looks, so a thoroughly enjoyable experience from start to finish.
I’ve been enjoying the joys of owning a vintage motorcycle over the past few years (something that’s been declared a midlife crisis by some) and, given the number of times I’ve been asked about the process of getting the bike (and me) legally on the road (in modern Ireland), I decided to document what’s involved for the benefit of others considering a similar hobby.
This is also a catalog of the things I could have done with knowing myself when embarking on the journey, which would have saved quite a bit of time (i.e. knowing that some items require others to be done first and there’s a long lead time involved).
It’s also worth noting that, in my case, I’d never had any kind of prior bike license (apart from the standard moped license that permits driving of vehicles with engine sizes up to 50cc) so I was effectively starting from scratch in my journey.
Many of the items can be done in parallel but there are also some dependencies to note. There are some long waiting times and surprising costs involved too, which you should be aware of.
Before you can get a driving license in Ireland, you need to pass a (computer-based) test that assesses your knowledge of the theory of driving. This used to be a written test but is now fully computerised and there are different tests for different types of vehicles (e.g. motorbike, car, truck).
The test itself consists of 40 multiple-choice questions on various driving-related topics (e.g. road safety, road signage) for your vehicle type and you need to answer 35 (or more) correctly to pass.
You can also purchase a CD with the same software used in the test (available in most bookstores and local libraries) to prepare yourself for the official test. I strongly recommend this because the pool of questions and user interface on the CD is identical to the official test and taking 1-2 practice tests per week in the leadup to your official test is a very effective way to prepare to pass.
The test costs €45 and you can book online at https://theorytest.ie. However, the waiting time for a test appointment could be several weeks (potentially months depending on Covid-19 restrictions).
Learner Permit (incl. Public Services Card)
In Ireland, your first driving license is called a Learner Permit (it used to be called a Provisional License). You must have passed the Driver Theory Test before you can apply for a Learner Permit.
You can apply for a Learner Permit online but to do this you will also need a Public Services Card (PSC) which many young drivers (or full-time workers) may not have. Obtaining a PSC is actually quite a manual process, requiring an in-person visit to your local Government offices, so this is something you should consider starting much earlier. There is no cost for a Public Services Card and, to be fair, once you have one the process of requesting the Learning Permit is very smooth.
There are some restrictions to driving a motorcycle on a Learner Permit, the main ones being:
You cannot carry a pillion passenger.
You must wear a hi-vis vest with an “L” sign on it while riding.
Depending on your age, you may be limited to the size of bike (engine) you can ride.
You will also need to select a suitable License Category when applying for a Learner Permit. There are several motorcycle categories (all beginning with “A”), linked to your age and/or the power of your bike (e.g. engine size). I recommend choosing the highest category you can (e.g. A2), which will allow you more options for the size/type of bikes you can ride.
A Learner Permit (for a car or motorbike) costs €45 and is valid for 2 years. You can book online at https://ndls.ie. If requested online, it only takes a couple of days to arrive.
Initial Basic Training (IBT)
In Ireland, you cannot get motorcycle insurance until you have taken a 2-day basic training course called Initial Basic Training (IBT). While I understand (and agree with) the logic of this and the course itself was pretty good (one day in the classroom and one day out riding a bike), I found the cost to be extremely expensive at a whopping €495.
If you have been driving a car (on a full driving license) for some time, contrary to some beliefs, this does not give you an exemption from needing to complete the IBT.
The IBT certificate is only initially valid for 2 years but will be eligible for an extension if you had applied for (or attempted) the full driving test within that period of time.
Depending on the motorbike you plan to use, you may (or may not) need to register it. Most new or second-hand bikes will already be registered for you but, in my case, I had to re-register my bike as it had not been road legal for almost 30 years (and had long since been archived by the relevant Government transport authorities).
Re-registering a bike has a nominal cost of €12 but requires some official paperwork to be signed and stamped by a local Police department official, which can take extra time.
All motorised vehicles in Ireland are required to pay a motor tax before legally being allowed onto public roads. The cost, which recurs annually, depends on your vehicle type and engine size or emissions but is significantly cheaper for vintage vehicles (e.g. €35 per year). Apart from the bike being formally registered, there are no other prerequisites for paying the motor tax, which can be done online at https://www.motortax.ie.
The final step to being allowed onto a public road is to get your bike (and yourself) insured. Again, the cost here depends on your age, driving experience, motorcycle type/size/value etc. However, you cannot get motorcycle insurance until you have completed the Initial Basic Training above.
You should not take to the public roads unless you are wearing suitable protective clothing. As I understand it, in Ireland, the only legal requirement here is a helmet but the importance of proper bike gear was outlined in a very practical way during Day 1 of the Initial Basic Training:
If you are involved in a biking incident at 30km/h, where you come off your bike and slide to a stop on the ground, while the chances of a fatal injury are low, the chances of needing time off work to recover are very high. In that regard, the difference between wearing proper protective clothing or not could be 6 days out of work (with gear) or 6 months out of work (without gear). You decide!
The cost of proper bike gear was also something I’d not fully understood beforehand and it’s not cheap either. Here’s a summary of what I bought, along with indicative costs:
Waterproof Pants: €100
Hi-vis Vest (with L sign): €25
The brands/styles I purchased were entry-level in most cases but I did choose to pay a little extra for the boots, jacket and (open faced) helmet as I felt they suited the era of my bike.
While your costs may vary, here is a summary of the total costs I incurred en route to my first trip:
Driver Theory Test: €45
Learner Permit: €35
Initial Basic Training: €495
Motor Tax: €35
Bike Gear: €550
Clearly, you need to factor in the cost of the motorcycle itself, but the additional costs on top of that, to get your bike (and yourself) legally onto the roads, could easily exceed €1,500.
Once you’ve been riding for a while, you should consider taking the full Driving Test. If successful, this would reduce your insurance costs, allow you to carry passengers and eliminate the need to wear the hi-vis “L” vest.
While you are free to take the test without any formal lessons, I would recommend you take some lessons beforehand to help eliminate any bad habits you may have picked up and to get you generally “test ready”. The lessons may also help ensure you only ever have to take the test once.
For the day that’s in it, and because today’s milestone will see me commence my 51st orbit of the sun, I have been reflecting on some of the milestones that have shaped my life during the first 50 orbital cycles. In many ways, these are a template for what many life journeys look like over time but where the precise details on how the milestones happen are different for all of us, in good ways and in bad, just as it should be.
In the interest of time (and data privacy, as some of the details could be used as security questions for online systems), I’ve deliberately not divulged any specifics. However, I have enjoyed recalling those to myself and my family, and hope that you enjoy reflecting on your own individual answers with you and yours, no matter what age you are (or are not).
I guess the ordering of the items is somewhat chronological (and telling) in my case, which can result in some curious inferences about my priorities in life at the time 🙂
First childhood memory
First Christmas morning (that you remember)
First day at school
First time riding a bicycle (without stabilisers)
First time shooting a gun
First time visiting your Dad’s place of work to see what he does all day long
First time catching a fish by yourself
First time rowing a boat by yourself
First time riding a horse (or donkey)
First time at Bingo (and winning £25, a small fortune at that age)
First time camping (in a tent without a zip on the doors)
First time swimming more than 5 metres by yourself
First time staying up past midnight to see the clock radio switch from 23:59 to 00:00
First time on stage performing at a music, arts or culture event
First time on TV
First sports day at your parent’s place of work
First state exams
First record/tape/CD (or digital music) purchase, with your own money
First time on an oceanic car ferry
First paying job
First bank account not controlled by my parents
First time paying tax (still don’t understand that one)
First time voting in a national election
First pint (Guinness, of course)
First hangover (resulting in lifelong aversion/allergy to a specific alcoholic brand)
First time passing your driving test
First college qualification (29 years ago today too, as it happens)
First night after moving out of home
First professional job (for which you are academically qualified)
First serious data loss due to not taking backups seriously (credit to Heather MayburyRIP for using a blameless culture (before that was a thing) to help me learn from it).
First sun holiday
First (and only) marriage proposal – when, where, and how?
First house (and mortgage)
First (and only) wife, where your house became a home
First neighbour’s house warming, who would become lifelong friends to this day!
First time being best man at a wedding
First person you’ve met who was born after Italia ‘90
First mid-week barbecue leading to copious amounts of Bulmers cider
First child, and the unbridled joy of calling yourself a Father (followed by abject fear of what lies ahead by being responsible for something so beautifully delicate)
First time skiing (on snow), and thinking you didn’t need sun cream because it was so cold.
First time paragliding
First time arriving on a video call, expecting a single colleague but finding half of your extended work team there to wish you a happy milestone birthday, complete with photos from your earlier years that were clearly provided by members of your immediate family!
First loss of a parent (definitely missing my Dad today)
So as I begin my 51st orbit of the sun, I count myself very lucky to have experienced so much good in my life (with a little bit of the bad and the sad to keep me firmly grounded).
I hope you enjoy thinking of some of the moments that have shaped your life, along the same lines as mine above, and I look forward to updating the list in the years and good times ahead.
As I reflect on the 18 years that have passed since I first became a father (on this very day in 2002), I do so with incredibly mixed emotions and a deep sense of anguish that we cannot share the occasion with our beautiful son, Jake, who left our world after just 9 days, on Friday, 25 October 2002.
However, while there’s not a day that goes by that we don’t think of him and we yearn to hold him in our arms just one more time, we are comforted (and often surprised) by the things that his short life has taught us in the years since his passing, and I thought it might be nice (and potentially helpful to others) to share some of those lessons today in his honour.
Life is not over – it’s just very, very different
The loss of a child is something you will never, ever “get over” but it is something that you can learn to accept and live with, with the passage of time, while experiencing some enormously uplifting moments along the way. Not only will these moments keep you firmly grounded in life, but they can also serve to inspire the best in yourself and in others, in ways that may otherwise not have been possible.
Some of these moments that I recall and that I hold dear to my heart include beautiful remembrance ceremonies and anniversary Masses at Crumlin Hospital, Dublin, receiving a posthumous bravery certificate from the Irish Heart Foundation (our son underwent heart surgery less than 24 hours after his birth) and a Roll of Honour certificate from the Irish Kidney Association (I am proud to say my son was also an organ donor).
Our annual, overnight trip to Dublin to mark his anniversary has also become an extended family tradition which our other children and their cousins now hail as one of the highlights of their year.
The Japanese Maple tree that stands proudly at the bottom of our garden is also a constant, warming, living, breathing reminder of his place in our family unit. Be it the smile it puts on your face while cutting the grass or the happy sounds of your children playing nearby, or even seeing your own Father stand in silent prayer there at random moments throughout the year, these are all uplifting experiences that you learn to love dearly, and that enrich your now very different life.
Find the positives where you can – they do exist
A close friend of mine, with some personal experience in this area, was brave enough to say this to me a few days before Jake died and it took me several years to learn what it truly meant, and to accept how true it is. That is because, no matter how far you travel in life and how sorry you may feel for yourself because of what happened to you on that life journey, you will learn (several times over) that there is always someone less fortunate than you are, with no exceptions.
We were blessed with a perfect pregnancy, photographs and videos of our newborn son, living and breathing. We got to hold him, to smell him, to hug him and kiss him, multiple times over. Some of our extended family members got to meet him too, if only for a brief moment, and so we have memories, real memories.
Sadly, we have met many people that experienced a similar loss to ours, but with none of the memories we have to cherish. Oddly, we count our blessings for this.
Material things simply don’t matter – family is what matters
I like my home comforts, gadgets, cars and other material possessions as much as the next person, but I definitely find them far less important in my life on foot of the experiences of 18 years ago. Others I’ve met have conceded feeling the same way over time.
I don’t dwell on this and it’s not a major discussion point in my life, but I definitely find myself less motivated to spend time with (or on) material items. I guess it’s because these things are ultimately replaceable, if you know where to find them at the right price, which makes them ultimately less valuable in a human context.
However, the things that I now find most happiness, motivation and contentment in actually cost nothing. They are spending time with family, creating life memories for (and with) our children, but with a far deeper appreciation for why they are so important, valuable and irreplaceable.
We are therefore so especially proud of our first-born son, Jake, today for teaching us all so much about the truly important things in life, in his own special way.
I recently came into possession of a rather curious looking spool of tape when going through some old things belonging to my Dad. This surprise discovery (which, amazingly, he never thought to mention when he was alive) was initially met with a mixture of curiosity and excitement, but then tinged with sadness as I remembered he is no longer around to ask about its origins or contents.
Of course the curiosity soon got the better of me and I felt I owed it to him to find out what was on it anyway, considering he had clearly safeguarded it for the better part of 50 years. I therefore set about finding a way to have it converted to some form of modern digital media.
I began by contacting a friend who had recently converted some vintage video reels of the same shape and size, and while he was able to confirm that I was in possession of a Reel-to-Reel Audio tape, he did not himself possess a suitable playing device and neither did any of his hobbyist friends. Fortunately, The Force is strong in this one and so we kept trying.
I then decided to try my luck on the I Am Waterford Facebook page (home to some 20,000 Waterford natives) and was greeted with a delightful array of helpful suggestions, a sizeable majority of which were directing me towards one person, Gary Burns (Audio Visual Technical Officer at Waterford Institute of Technology), who later chimed in himself and offered to do the conversion for me.
As we both live in the same town, I was able to hand over the reel the following day, and within a few days of that I found myself downloading an audio file with the contents of the reel in all its crackly glory – all 35 minutes of it!
Naturally, the anticipation at this point was sky high and indeed, I took a quiet moment to prepare for an emotional reveal. After all, no matter what was on this reel, it was put there for a reason and that reason alone represented an insight into a part of my father’s life that I knew nothing about until that very moment. I consider myself very lucky to have that opportunity, as those in my position will no doubt understand.
So what was on the reel, I hear you ask? Well, I had given this some thought during the previous few days and thought it might have been a recording of him (or his family) singing or playing the accordion, or perhaps a recording of someone describing some of the video reel footage I’d converted some years earlier.
In the end, it was actually none of the above and instead was a collection of 14 songs recorded from the radio, ranging from 1969 to 1974. There were occasional hints of the voice of Brendan Balfe along the way (a popular RTE Radio presenter at that time), so I’m assuming it was his radio show that was being recorded.
Here is a full catalog of the extracted from the reel, which was derived after several hours of painstaking listening for recognisable lyrics, against a backdrop of electrical noise and melodic crackling. I’ve linked each one to a YouTube video of the original song for you to enjoy also:
Apart from the curious variety in musical styles (and fashion), I was actually rather impressed with the coolness of some of the tracks, especially Jeff Beck and Credence Clearwater Revival. He certainly kept a few of those guilty pleasures quiet for all the years that he instead lauded the dulcet tones of Foster & Allen!
All in all, this was a thoroughly enjoyable, albeit very emotional, few days that, thanks to the help of people I had never even known one week before, is now set to become part of a new chapter in our family memorabilia that I hope will last for another 50 years, and more.
Thanks Dad, and thanks Gary!
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