La Marmotte 2010

I took part in the Mick Byrne 200 a few weeks before La Marmotte, clocking 215km for the day. At the 200km mark I was incredibly tired. In contrast, after 85km of La Marmotte, half way up Col Du Telegraphe to be precise, I felt worse.

It's difficult training for an event which you have no idea of, other than the reports of other participants (which are very much welcomed and appreciated), combined with elevation figures on a map. In hindsight, for myself at least, the only proper way to prepare for the animal that is La Marmotte, is to experience the climbs first hand then train based on your experience. There will obviously be younger, naturally talented athletes who will ace this first time, but I guarantee they will have trained properly for it.

The day began early, 5am rise for breakfast and the trip from La Grave, where we stayed, to Bourg d'Oisan the start point. An organised queue and roll out, I crossed the mat at 8am feeling optimistic about the day's challenge. My training wasn't exactly top notch, but I had a few long cycles under my belt with a good bit of climbing, even though it was only 4 months preparation with some interruptions, I felt it would be sufficient for the long slog to the heights of Alpe Duez some time before dark.......

AT THE START
The first 15km is pretty flat to the first climb, Le Croix De Fer (also known as Glandon). Apparently one side of the climb is Le Croix De Fer and the other side named Glandon, so I was informed.

Other than a piss stop after the first 5km it was relatively painless and I averaged a modest 35kph amongst the hundreds of riders heading for the first of the day's heights to be scaled.




BEGINNING OF FIRST CLIMB

As we hit the first ascent of the day, the first thing I noticed was my heart rate, at 165bpm and I was only crawling a long at a speed of 9kph. WTF? I have no great affinity for climbing if I'm honest, and certainly wouldn't call myself a climber by any means, more of a descender, gravity being my friend at 13stone 4lb, but its normally around the 150bpm mark at this slow pace. I reckoned it was a due to the elevation and the heat, thinking to myself ...it will settle down when I get into a rhythm.

It was pretty warm at this early stage and the temperature increased steadily for the first 3 hours of the cycle. Le Croix De Fer rises from the base at 800m to 1,900m at the summit, over a distance of 21km approx. Its steep for the first 5km, levels out with a slight decline for the next 5km then gets steeper again until the summit. I found it surprisingly long, but then again I had no experience with alpine climbs. Everyone explained to me before the event about the magnitude of the climbs but you only think you can assess them until you arrive on the scene....

I had a brief chat with a guy from Limerick on the initial climb, he had done it 7 years previously, "it's not something you volunteer for every year", he exclaimed. 3km into Le Croix De Fer, I checked my HR again, 167bpm, WTF I thought, looked up and was slightly astonished to see riders with dossards on the front of their bike descending towards me. People who left in the earlier wave were quitting already.......there and then I realised this was gonna be very tough.

The scenery is quite spectacular, especially on the climb to the summit of Le Croix De Fer, however, my appreciation of the surrounding beauty lessened exponentially as the suffering increased throughout the day. I did get a few snaps in, majority of them early in the ride while I could still raise my head to take in the landscape.

LE CROIX DE FER

I slogged on slowly but comfortable to the summit, getting passed consistently by all types of riders, male and female, some of the woman on this ride were quite strong. I was deliberately slow so that I would have a better chance of completing the course. Towards the last 1km of Le Croix De Fer a woman passed me as if I was stopped. If she was a day she was at least 55years old and flying up the climb. She didn't have a number and looked like a local but she put a lot of younger guys to shame as she spun up the road leaving the rest of us heaving and spluttering in the searing heat. I was out of water about 2km from the top and refilled at the food stop on the peak, along with stuffing some particularly shit food down my neck......couple of buns, 2 slices of salami, couple pieces of dried fruit. All the good stuff must have gone on the first two waves, I decided I would stop at a cafe later. It took me 2hrs 35 mins to reach the first food stop, I'd travelled only 36km, it was 10.35am, and already the heat was beginning to get to me. Its gonna get even warmer, what will it be like then I thought. Even on holidays I shy away from the sun, climbing the Alpes was something I'd prefer to do in modest temperatures, but that's something you cant control so must adapt to, take it or leave it.

I stopped for 15mins at the first food stop, before the Glandon descent. Descending Glandon was fun, easily the most enjoyable part of the day for me. The descent lasts approx 20km, is winding and narrow and testing, but if you like descending as I do its great fun. This was the only part of the day that not one person passed me, I flew down passing up to hundred people who had previously gone by me on the way up the other side. A lot of people were taking it easy, the organisers decided not to time the Glandon descent to increase safety, as it could be quite treacherous. I overshot one corner after passing out two riders and a car on the bend and realised I had to reign it in a little. Luckily there was nothing coming up the other way, I got off light. The first 2km is open and visibility is good, then it gets closed in and blind corners are the norm. Apparently and unfortunate soul overshot a corner on the Galibier descent and got creamed by an oncoming motor bike. His bike was in two parts and he was taken in a ambulance slowly down the mountain, I hope he recovers but have no idea as to his state. Its very easy to make a mistake and get caught out, I made a few myself as would a lot of riders but most go unpunished. I reached the bottom of the Glandon 25mins after I began the descent and was sorry to see the end of the downhill section, probably because I knew in the back of my mind the only way was up from there on. Even descending my HR was at 155bpm, although I was pedalling between bends. As high as my HR was climbing Le Croix De Fer, I was never gasping for air, I always felt comfortable enough, just slow.

At the bottom of Glandon we went through Saint Marie De Cuines were the timer began again as you crossed another mat, and then approx 20km of a gradual incline along the dual carriageway to the base of the Telegraphe. The temperature had risen to 39C and there was no shade. The heat bounced of the road and the side walls, my strength dissipated quickly, I felt like I was in an oven. It took me a whole hour to cover the 20km. I had anticipated a pretty warm day but I never expected it to be so draining. There was a welcomed water stop a few km before the base of the Telegraphe, I refilled, poured water over my head, back and chest, and headed for the second climb.

The Telegraphe was the most difficult 1hr and 40mins I have ever endured on a bike, it was sheer hell and felt like an eternity. I was shattered from the heat, I literally could have fallen asleep had I closed my eyes. There are loads of riders together in a line climbing yet not a sound, everyone suffers alone. The climbs are relentless, up, up, up.....13km doesn't sound like much but when you are wrecked and climbing its huge. I covered the first 8km of the 13km and had to stop for a rest. I sat in one of the rare shaded regions on a rock and licked a bar of caramel from the wrapper, slugging down the last of my water, there was another refill point further up the Telegraphe which I took advantage of. I went through 14 water bottles for the day, not sure if this is high for others but it was certainly high by my usual standards.
The buses swept the course picking up the debris of riders that had had enough. A few guys were stopped close beside me on the Telegraphe, one was on the phone asking about the bus, he was finished for the day, I asked him to order me pizza, he looked puzzled, another guy asked for a beer, we got neither...others walked past pushing their bikes. The people that cycled past looked jealous that I was resting and happy at the same time that they could still go on. A guy was openly weeping at the roadside, exhausted, broken from the duress of the climbs and heat, it was pure carnage, the Telegraphe blitzed scores of riders around me. I wondered if I would reach the summit on the bike, all the time I swore I would never get on that bus.......I wanted to quit so much, but there was no way I was doing that.

I can't remember any respite on the Telegraphe, always steep, sauna like, and unrelenting.... I hopped back on the bike and set off for the second half, 3km passed and I stopped again for another 15mins, 2km from the summit. More people walked past, a guy who had stopped beside me me further down had stopped again at my second rest point. He got back on, cycled another 100yds, stopped again, looking around him like he didn't know what to do.......a few secs later he reached into his pocket for the phone and asked about the bus. I never brought a phone..took the camera instead..no choice but to keep going I thought.
As I approached the top of the Telegraphe I felt nauseous for a few seconds but it quickly wore off, as I peaked the climb my right hamstring and calve began to cramp uncontrollably, I dismounted, hopped slowly to a chair outside the cafe at the top, and ordered a panini and a coke, as I watched the queue of riders waiting to get on the bus.

TELEGRAPHE

I sat for the best part of an hour, as I prepared to leave I spotted Karl , one of the guys in my group, heading for the water station across the road, I shouted to him and he crossed over to the cafe. He had set off earlier than me that morning but I don't remember passing him at any stage, I was glad that I would have company on the climb to the Galibier. My HR dropped from 167bpm to 36bpm during my rest period according to my Garmin, 36bpm sounds low but I was pretty tired.

There's approx 5km of descent from the Telegraphe peak to the base of the Galibier climb (or until the road began rising at any rate), another 18km of climbing awaited. Myself and Karl set off, slowly. The first 12km isn't mad steep but a long drag all the same, until you reach a point called Plan Lachat were it ramps up for the last 6 or 7km. Karl stopped for a brief 60 sec rest after a few km, I joined him, we set off again. Karl stopped again soon later and motioned me to continue which I did. I reached Plan Lachat and dreaded the thought of hauling myself up the climb, I had actually planned on stopping at the bottom for a few minutes, but when I got there I just kept going. I could see Karl a few hundred metres back, keep going Karl I told myself thinking if he can do it, so can I. The mental challenge was every bit as tough as the physical. I continuously reminded myself that once I hit the Galibier peak it was 45km downhill to the base of Alpe Duez, I'd put too much effort in to miss that sort of descent.

ROAD TO GALIBIER

From Plan Lachat the last 6km is steep considering the ground already covered, I stopped again at the 5km mark, a young guy walked passed pushing his bike, "Tough" I asked, "Very tough" he replied without stopping. He was cycling with his father earlier who had since retired to the bus. Karl caught up and we set off again, 5km more I thought. Every km took an age, counting them one at a time. I dropped Karl again, don't ask how, I was averaging 7kph, and barely making any ground on the young guy walking up ahead.

It was getting cooler and I perked up a little but was still knackered, the rain started lightly at first, at the 3km marker it was now heavy and ice cold with claps of thunder. A car pulled up alongside and asked if I wanted the bus. I couldn't speak, but nodded no, they asked again, again I nodded no.......I'm not getting on any bus I thought. I looked down behind me and could see Karl still going, good I thought, if he can do it I can do it.

1km from the summit there is a restaurant on the right had side of the road, there is a tunnel straight ahead about 200 yards (for traffic) which takes you through the Galibier from one side to the other. To the left is a road to the peak which the cyclists were to climb. I had 1km further to the peak and down to the other side of the tunnel and beyond. The bus was parked at the turn point before the restaurant, it was now pissing down, I was drenched but refreshingly cool, I preferred it to the heat but it was getting cold very quickly. A dutch guy I had passed earlier got off the bus and shouted moral support, I smiled inwardly thinking there is wiser people locked up! Putting ourselves through this kind of punishment for no particular reason.

Water ran off the road in sheets as I climbed the last 1km, the clouds were setting at the summit, visibility was poor. Sweat was running into my eyes and stung like mad, I took turns closing one and opening the other. I looked back down at the bus, doubting if it was safe to continue in this weather, worried about descending in the mist. I looked beyond the bus and saw Karl again, still slogging on behind me, if he can do it, I can do it was my motto on the Galibier and it stood me well, I continued on to the peak. It's hard to believe it can be 39C for a long period of the route and then lashing rain and thunder at another but I presume its normal for those parts at altitude.

APPROACHING GALIBIER SUMMIT

I rounded the last bend to the peak of the Galibier and heard voices. It was a nice sound, amongst the rain, wind, thunder and mist to hear friendly tones. They were coming out of a van parked on the gravel area at the peak. I cycled over behind the van and put on my arm warmers, they were all I had for protection in preparation for the descent. My luck was about to change, the van door opened and out jumped 5 guys and a girl all wearing plastic sacks over their torso. "Jesus, get yourself a sack in there man", one guy said as he looked at me as if i was crazy. I hopped in and ripped 3 holes in a sack and stuck my head and arms through them, this was my gillet on the descent, it was perfect protection against the now freezing cold air and rain. The mist settled in fast, to the point where it was only about 20 yards visibility at the peak as I began the descent after a 10 minute rest. It had taken me 2hrs 20mins to climb the Galibier, I was exhausted, my feet ached, knees creaked, back and ass hurt like crazy. I felt like I had got beaten up, but was glad there was no more climbing for another 45km.

The first few hundred metres of descent were treacherous enough, wet, cross-winds, freezing cold fingers for breaking. 15 mins further down and it began to brighten up and get warmer. The road widedned, my speed picked up, I dried out somewhat and was enjoying descending again passing a few riders along the way. There wasn't many riders around at this stage, the field well dispersed. I was probably one of the last still on the road. At this stage, if i'm honest, I had no intention of going anywhere near Alpe Duez, it was taking whatever strength I had left to descend Galibier, even though earlier in the day I stated I'd crawl up it if I had to. How opinions change on the road!

The descent from Galibier is particularly long, the road is patchy in places, but when compared to Irish roads its absolutely fine, and there are a few tunnels to negotiate but very enjoyable all the same. Some tunnels are short and simple, others are long with bends (can't see the exit when you enter), poor lighting and freezing. Remember to pull down your shades before entering or you'll be cycling blind. I did that the day before on a recce, thankfully I wasn't travelling at speed and there was no traffic about. No matter how tired you are you'll speed up through the tunnels when you hear the amplified engine noise of traffic bearing down on you, its scary sometimes. I retained the sack until I hit the flat section just before Alpe Duez, where I flung it to the side of the road. Here I met an English guy who I'd passed on the descent, he had caught back up. I asked if he was doing the Alpe and his reply was "yep, even if I have to walk up it". Well if he can do it....... I was now on schedule for Alpe Duez.

We arrived at the base of Alpe Duez, a young guy stopped us to say we should have given our electronic chips in back at the roundabout to get or deposit back, as there was nobody a the top of the ALpe at this late time in the evening, it was now 7.30pm. There was no way I was going back so told him I'd do it later or if not they can keep the money. Not even sure how much it was as I gave my entry fee to a mate who entered me months earlier. Probably a tenner or something token like. I had no water left and the young lad gave me the last of what he had sitting on the fence, about 200ml. I had been on the bike almost 12 hours and was more tired than ever in my life, not exactly great preparation for climbing Alpe Duez but its not like you have a choice.

The first few switchbacks on Alpe Duez are particularly steep, each one at this stage of the day was a mountain in itself. Myself and my new found friend set off to attack the first switch back (think it was number 21, they go down in number as you climb to the top where you reach switchback 1).

My colleague got off to walk, he was knackered, I struggled slowly to the corner of the next switchback, it was just as steep, I dismounted and began to walk, my legs were dead and the gradient was too much. I walked up switch back 20 and rested on the wall at the side of the road. The english guy walked past and asked if I was continuing, "think I'll head back, I'm fucked, legs are dead", I retorted. "Be a shame to come so far and stop now mate", he reminded me, he walked on turning the corner towards switchback 19. I drank the few ml of water that I had left, jumped on the bike and gave it another last hurrah slowly up the Alpe. I passed the english guy walking on the third switchback, continued on without stopping, crawling, barely turning the pedals quick enough to stay upright on the bike.

There was a lot of riders descending the other way at this stage, at lot of them shouting moral support - "Allez,Allez", "Bravo", "Keep going"....... as nice as their sentiments were they had little affect on my endeavour, should truth be told I would have preferred a push......

After almost an hour on Alpe Duez I came to switchback 11, approx 8km from the summit. My feet were so sore I could barely press on the pedals, my knees ached so much I could not pull up on the cleats against the gradient. I dismounted and sat on the wall, I was shattered and my Marmotte finsished there and then halfway up the Alpe. I was absolutley fucked, if I had of lay down I would have slept for a week. I contemplated the walk to the top, which would have taken another estimated 2 hours, leaving me reaching the top at 10.30pm with no way down, I wasn't up for it. I sat for 20 mins on the wall resting so that I could descend again to the flats where we had parked the car. The english guy cycled past, asked how far to the top, and pushed on around the next bend. I have no idea if he made it or not.......I hope he did.

Considering how knackered and drained I was on the Telegraphe, I was quite hapy to have reached and attempted Alpe Duez, never mind climbing Galibier. If I had a fiver for everytime I said to myself "never doing this again!" during the cycle, it would have paid for the trip and then some. The last thing I wanted to see that evening was a bicycle. When I woke up the next morning my first thought was "If I dropped another 10lb, trained harder and got used to the heat I'd complete that course no bother.....".

My training for La Marmotte 2011 will begin on October 1st, 2010. I'm looking forward to it already.

Factors I'll consider for my next Marmotte? For me at least, and I'm not a racing cyclist but do complete a few sportives regularly and can put in anything up to 300-400km per week on the bike on average when training regularly.

HEAT - the sun absolutley killed me, more so than I would have imagined. However, its always going to be warm at this time of year in France I'd guess so its just a matter of grinning and bearing it and look for other areas to improve to compensate.

TRAINING - my training wasn't tough enough when you compare the climbs in Ireland as opposed to their counterparts in the Alpes. I should have been attacking the climbs in trainging a lot harder and for longer. Also, I should have simulated TT cycling a lot more whereby my HR is constantly elevated for long periods of time, which it was during La Marmotte.

WEIGHT - power to weight ratio in Ireland doesnt mean a lot, other than how quick you'll climb, for me at least, but you'll still reach the top at some stage. In the Alps it has huge influence on whether you will reach the top or not. I was at least 10lb overweight for the course at 13st 4lb. I had dropped from 14st but should have gone down to around 12st 7lb. I used to weigh myself on the scales in the gym, for months I was always 13st no matter what I did. They were analogue with a bouncy needle, if you leaned forward while on them the needle went up, if you leaned back the needle went down. One day I turned on the digital scales beside them, the fancy ones that read HR etc, and hopped on. I was 14st and couldn't feckin believe it, ha, I was way overweight. I dropped 10lb between then and Marmotte but ideally I should have placed more emphasis on this at an earlier stage of preparation.

Below are some pictures from the day before and day after the event. Click to enlarge for a better view.

Hobbies & Weather

Comparing christ with anti-christ has the very same vernacular as hobbies and work. Obviously, currently being out of work (without delving into the very fact that I haven't particularly looked too far for any) has led me to have substantially more time for hobbies - loosely translated - pursuits that I enjoy i.e. not work.

The weather is a complete an utter bastard in my humble opinion, dictating like a headmaster would to a mischevious child what we can and cant do, and when we can and cant do it. Maybe its because the human race is predominamtly weak when challenging the extremes of nature or simply maybe we aren't fundamentally nor physically compiled to withstand certain extremes. Either way, the majority of "what to do" spare time decisions are influenced by the fucking weather.

1. Swimming / Gym / Punch bag -(any type of weather)

This, I have been doing regularly for years through times of employment and unemployment so it really doesn't take up additional time space nor extend my enjoyment and fitness now that I am unemployed. However, when reneging on completing these exercises I do feel quite lethargic an unfulfilled. It's very true that exercising gives you energy, it keeps you physically and mentally alert, do not under estimate this. Obviously being indoors this is available all year round at liberty (liberty meaning the gym membership is paid in full).

2. Fishing - (from good weather to not so good weather, if bad weather revert to 1 above)

This is a past time I have rekindled only last year, late last year, so late that I think I spent 1,200 euro on gear and only got out to fish 4 times before I started to freeze my bollocks off, and therfore my enjoyment from fishing was limited to the anticipatory imaginative kind from the comfort of the living room, until this years weather lightened up a little. I have since come to the conclusion that fishing is more enjoyable during weather conditions that are not so good. What I mean by not so good is overcast, dull, maybe a touch of light rain if the clouds permit such an act. These are the times I seem to catch most fish, and lets face it, what fucking fun is there sitting at a lake or river all day staring at trees on the other side. Catching fish is the barometer that measures your enjoyment of the occasion, a fishometer so to speak.

Since redundancy enlightened my soul enough to smile every morning on awakening, knowing that I dont have drag my ass to work and talk to idiots I dont like (minority that they are) who talk shit and take credit for my work, I have come to the conclusion that there is a void in my life, no I have a beautiful girlfriend, which makes me think I should put aside more time for treating her, hmmm, anyway back to the initial void - good weather activities.

Drinking I can do at night, and come to mention it I can mix this with treating my girlfirend, one problem solved, now for the other. I require something I can do during the day when I'm normally working to make my boss look good in comparison to his/her peers. You've probably assumed by now that I have a greivance with previous superiors and you have assumed correctly. Without going into detail lets say that i'm a straight up matter of fact type person and abhor the double crossing, political game playing type of people I've been unfortunate to encounter. Dont get me wrong, I've met loads of great people through work, its those fuckers who pretend to be your mate then shag you sideways that dampen the enjoyable experiences. Its a long road with plenty of turns, heard that somewhere before.

So I decided that my new hobbie for fair weather conditions is:

3. CYCLING: (starts off as good weather only, and as you get to like it more it becomes any fucking weather you want to ride in).

Cycling is a great sport, and has history with me. As a teenager I was introduced to cycling through my father who was a very keen cyclist. So keen that he always had two bikes, one for cycling to work everyday (Peugeout) and another, thee bike, for sunday spins (Dawes). Thinking back to 20 years ago when these 2 bikes cost a total of 1,000 punts (400 & 600 respectively), they were great machines. I still have the dawes to this day in mint condition, with new tape bar, everything else is the same as the day it was bought.

It was as a kid I attempted to emulate my father and tag along on these sunday spins, unaware that I was a nuisance simply draining the patience from an athlete wishing to get through what would normally be an enjoyable training session less my company. I was of course on my sisters Puch-Mini bike, god fucking knows what it was. After the first session, and the second, etc he finally got the idea that I wasn't giving up and surprised me with a brand new junior peugeout road bike with slicks, groupset if thats what they called it back then, the lot... I could now try and keep up in style and look good at the same time. Plus I could kick my friends asses when out on our bikes.

I showed promise, enough to be entered into a few local junior races of 10 - 20km or thereabouts, which I performed credibly in, winning a few. This was the height of my success in the saddle as I followed the path of most teenagers when I encountered alcohol and girls. I strongly believe that kids need a mentor for sports when at that critical pivot point in their lives, someone to stress that they should continue following their natural talents when faced with blending with their comrades getting pissed at the weekend and sacrificing a potentially successful sporting career. I was a particularly good soccer player when I was younger and now when I see some of the guys that made it makes me cringe. We wouldn't be allowed drop out of school so why give up on sports, even though the law has different views (which is due to people complicating life with laws and rules for every fucking thing under the sun).

Back on topic, I now needed a mechanism to release this new enthusiasm for cycling, yes, a bike. At this stage I knew nothing about bikes anymore, not that I knew much years previous; so I logged on to a few forums, namely boards.ie, and read up on few websites to regain some long forgotten basic knowledge, and learn the ins and outs of the current climate regarding components and what not. Soon after sickening myself with shimano this, campagnolo that, Look here, Beone there, etc I gave up on attempting to divulge the mountains of types of bikes and components and decided I'll like what I like when I see it.

Eventually, the online perusal began in earnest, website after website looking for something to catch my eye, as soon as I saw it I knew I was gonna get it, Pinarello FP2 with those weird looking forks, pictured above; just needed to decide on the groupset. My budget before I saw this was 1k for the bike and some accessories, now it was 2k, eventually I spent 3k on bike and gear. I asked for the vloce groupset/white frame at CycleSuperstore.ie (based in Tallaght). They order direct from Pinarello who only had white with Ultegra so I said fine, I'll take it. Pinarello sent a white FP2 with 105 groupset, at this stage I didn't give a shit, "I'll take it" was my answer. I probably could have got carbon this or that elswhere for the same money but I wanted this bike and wants are stronger urges than needs so it was a done deal as far as I was concerned. Bike cost 1.7k, spent over a grand on gear LOL. Jesus, when I last rode if I had have offered 1.7k for a bike the guy would have thrown in his missus with it, now you dont even get a set of fucking pedals with the fucker........christ I thought, accessorizing is an expensive hobby!

Within two weeks ended up with - Bike, pedals, 2 cages, 2 bottles, mini pump, sidi shoes, saddle bag, tubes, multi tool, 3 jerseys, 3 shorts, 3 under garments, 2 tights, helmet, garmin 705 with HR monitor, mud guards (one which doesn't fit cause of the wobbly forks), bike stand, cleaning kit (degreaser, brushes, etc), track pump, puncture kit, 4 x new tyres, gloves.......thats off the top of my head.

Next to get out on it............

Q's and P's

Nobody I know likes queues, why would they? Standing (or sitting if you are provided with that luxury - however, sitting normally infers you will be queuing longer than initially expected), daydreaming, wasting your life away in a fucking queue, you have no idea when it will shrink to the required size whereby you hear those coveted words mundanely voiced in your general direction, "Next!".

I detest queues, I'd rather watch an episode of Eastenders which I also detest and if even necessary venture to the dark depths of an episode of Jeremy Kyle...ughhh. That's how much I hate queues.

Most queues in a normal functioning society are of the shopping nature, most probable during the festive seasons such as xmas. I find shopping early in the morning as the store doors are opening for the public assault serves best during this period, unless you want to queue then go any time after this.

Xmas queues are sacrificial types of queues, what I mean by this is that the majority of people are sacrificing their time queuing to purchase items that aren't even for there own amusement or use. Watching forty year olds waiting in line for the latest PS3, Xbox Super, etc is determinant of this sacrifical queuing. They wouldn't queue to purchase goods for themselves in similar manner, which is maybe why they end up with bulging sock drawers while their kids maintain the latest gadgetry and style available.

There are selfish queues, everyone out for themselves, hustling and bustling for the last item on sale, wrestling their way through clothes departments like elephants on stampede.

Queues of anticipation, holding your ticket in one hand, the other on the back of the stranger in front as you reach the turnstile admitting you to watch the big game, the massive concert.....

Other queues are of the alcoholic nature, where you are too fucking drunk to realise how long you'll be queuing and what you're actually queuing for, you just saw a line and thought you'd join cause why the fuck would you go home instead? - normally takes place late at night so fortunately these types of queues rarely interact.

After being made redundant I was of course forced to sign on the dreaded dole, which I am not in the least embarassed about. I have spent all my working life paying taxes, and above average amounts I might add, without so much as asking for a cent in return. Now after years of giving to the not so fortunate through the redistribution vehicle called democracy, it was time to say "its payback time, I am now not so fortunate" and apply for said payments.

Watching the RTE news didn't lean my thinking to the "this will be a pleasant experience" type of thought, because every evening at six o'clock they constantly beamed pictures of depressing big ugly queues into my living room, yes, dole queues. "I'm not doing that! .......Shit, maybe I'll have to queue". There would be no maybe about it, it was gonna happen.

My queuing consternation led me to attempt to expediate the process of signing on. I downloaded the necessary forms from the social services website, filled them out, photcopied the required documents from my ex-employer, etc, etc, and then set about making the appointment to meet with a civil servant of sorts to make my claim.

Now, years previously I had worked for 6 months or more in the civil service in the north of the Emerald Isle, so I had some sort of idea as to how the system functioned, and this being 12 years on it surely has improved and modernised. I only hoped that the current civil servants were at least 3 times more productive than I was when in a similar role.


First things first, I'll make that phone call to book the appointment.
Voice:"If you come over and bring the forms with you tomorrow"

ME: "Cant I make an appointment now?"

Voice: "Just bring the forms with you tomorrow".

Me: "Where do I go?"

Voice:"North Cumberland Street, cant miss us"

Me: "Ok, Thanks, bye".

The second part was to visit their offices on North Cumberland Street, which I wasn't familiar with. That didn't matter cause I had my recently purchased Garmin GPS for the bike which I trusted would guide me there safe and sound, which it duly did. Like the xmas shopping episodes I reckoned getting there early was best policy. Half hour before opening should suffice to be one of the first in line.

My Garmin double beeped me to turn left off Parnell St and on to North Cumberland and stated "arriving at destination". Nice one I thought, turned the corner and stared in astonishment. The longest queue I had ever seen oudoors that wasnt involved with a sporting occasion or concert. This was a different kind of queue, not even the selfish kind, it was fucking desolate.......one of those queues where people queue even though they dont want to, but the participants are past the point of caring cause if they weren't here queuing what else would they be doing?

Adapting a positive mental attitude helps in a lot of situations, it was a big bulding, the big queue outside will fragment into lots of little queues once inside. It did, but into one very long queue (mine of course) and lots of little queues. Almost 3 hours later I heard the coveted words, albeit in a tone associated with patients who have been just informed they have cancer:

Guy: "Next...."

Me: "Hi, I'd like to sign on due to compulsory redundancy".

Guy: "National insurance number?"

I hand him the forms I have completed in advance containing my details, he checks my details on the computer beside him.

Guy:"You came here from north in 2001", looks at me all squinty eyed like Clint Eastwood would in a few dollars more, against Lee Van Cleef I think his nemesis was.

Me:"Yeah", my tone suggesting so fucking what.

He gives me back my forms and writes on this sheet in front of him, its a hand written appointment sheet, they dont even record them on the computer, they can't do it on the phone, you have to queue for 3 hours for the privilege of getting an appointment at reception to make another fucking appointment to talk to the very same receptionist, the second time across the room so he can then schedule your appointments to sign on! What a piss take.

Guy:"Fill in these and come back on this date at this time and queue over there"... points to other side of room and hands me blank forms, the very same forms that I have filled in, in advance thinking it would help.

Me:"I have this form already filled in, I just gave it to you, do I need another one?"

Guy: "I have to give them to you."

Me: "Do I need 2 of these?"

Guy:"No"

Me: "So what do I do with this, throw it in the bin?"

Guy:"Thats your choice."

Wtf?.....I thought as I turned away....... Wanna stop people queuing at the dole offices?... then simply put someone on a computer with a timetable on it, and a phone beside them - people phone up they schedule an appointment on the timetable, its not rocket science, queue is halved straight away. Those very same people queuing can use their 3 hours to look for work instead of queuing.

Civil servants complain about this and that, pension increases, irate customers, long queues, etc. Now on occasions, from previous experiences, they do make valid points, however, the underlying cause for these complaints aimed at others actually stems from the regulations imposed upon the system by their superiors and the government. Coupled with the fact that most people working in the social service dont give a fuck I can unashamedly say that the system is fucking shameful. Take any civil service office, command structure, work ethic, efficiency, etc and compare it to a similar functioning company in the private sector and it fails miserably. Why? Because the people dont give a fuck, their bosses dont really give a fuck, and the government dont really give a fuck about the normal working class citizens.....soon to be non-working class citzens. Also they are not the sharpest tools in the box in my opinion cause if they knew what they were doing they would be working in the private sector for higher wages. That brings me to the P's - Politics.

I have never voted in my life, anywhere for anything. I have never believed in something strong enough to go out of my way and queue to have my say, as minor as my say may be. "One more wont make much of a difference", was always my retort to a compulsive voter questioning my voting morals. So who installs these morons in power, yes, more P's - the People, we do (well I don't cause I have never voted, I just havent decided to put some other moron in there instead).

So, I have reconciled to the simple fact that the next election will be my first time ever to vote, and merely for the sole reason of opposing the current government cause they are not good. We shouldnt stand for it especially when they take 2 full months off every year on holidays....is there any other country in the world that would tolerate this? Ach, sure their Irish, they just enjoy the craic! The craic is long gone, earn your keep I say.

If you turn around in the street you need a licence - walking the dog? need a dog licence, going fishing? need a fishing licence, staying at home watching tele? need a tv licence........so if you are on the dole you cant do anything cause you need a licence to do it and they all cost money you dont have cause you are not working........I recently took up cycling again, as of yet we do not need a cycling licence but wait for it, its probably in the pipeline if the current eejits in power need more funding for their bullshit committees that cost us all a fortune and line their pockets..

Rant over....think I might vote labour, although I know absolutely feck all about politics and parties. At least I have time to blog now that I'm not working, dont know if thats good or bad.

The Big R!

It was indeed another riveting February morning in the fund accounting world for the criminally boring, when I first heard a so called colleague mention the big R word - Redundancy?? Sure? When? How many? Who?



This was the first tit-bit of rumour that enthused my heart beat to venture higher than just-above-sleeping bpm's in the last few months. Having declined a similar position in another company due to extra cash, bonus, etc. I had been doubting my decision to remain where I was - especially since I had barely spoken to my manager in 3 months, and had the privilege of sharing adjacent seating arrangements. To rub futher salt into the ever gaping wound the next boss up again was like working with Basil Faulty's wife on drugs.



The worlds financial system was crumbling before our eyes due to securitisation practices accelerated by loose lending or is it loose lending accelerated by securitisation practices- chicken and egg. I had spent the previous 3 years proclaiming the property market was way over inflated and housing prices were not sustainable, now I was being proven right - ironically the very people I advised not to purchase property where informing me that the property market had been over inflated for a number of years now......you think so?


Redundancy, eh? I needed out, this way I would get paid to leave? WOW!


Logical regression is always the first probability determinant:


1. received a poor enough annual review from the manager, considering that he doesnt have a clue how to do what I do I thought this was a bit harsh but meh.....fuck him.


2. two supervisors on the team whereby they could really streamline to one if necessary (I'm the senior and most expensive Super).


3. Funds are failing fast around the globe due to high redemption rates caused by bombing markets, the company's losing business faster than Chesney Hawkes retraced his footsteps to obscurity.


4. A shrinking economy will normally lend shoppers to sacrifice purchasing quality goods for cheaper substitute products, companies are no different - by my initial thought process I was destined for the dole queue. I was the quality supervisor, knowledgeable beyond even the managers yet cost approx 20k a year more than the other sup so it has to be me. They'll sacrifice all that fancy excel wizardry and derivative knowledge I possess to save a few bucks long term.............If not I'll be questioning why not?



Everyday I perked up my mundane jaunt to so called work by repeating after me... you'll get it.... you'll get it...you've got to get it....logic dictates it....


Two months of self induced logical regression had determined I was hotter than Red Rum on his third national victory to attain the inevitable...the big R....it finally arrived......I had taken approx 4.5 seconds to calculate what my pay off would be to the nearest grand two months ago, and in hind sight I was particulary accurate. After just over 3 years of service I should retain at least 6 months wages tax free......I like it! The cherry on the cake is one month in lieu, now I've always detested cherries yet this one was metaphorically sweet as...



What would I miss?? Certainly not Sybil Faulty, nor my manger who had his head so far up Sybil's ass it was impossible to determine where she stopped and he began. The majority of office life involves polite hellos here, good mornings there, have a good weekend, blah blah....nothing of note. However, I did have the added bonus of meeting a couple of really sound guys on the team which I will remain in contact with.......another bonus.


What will I do with my spare time? A summer off or straight back to looking for work??

What next?