It’s the fourth Sunday of Advent today, just a few days before Christmas. It’s one of the busiest shopping days of the year in Ireland. Strange thing for a German who would traditionally have got into a more relaxed reflective pre-Christmas mood. At the same time, what has to be done has to be done…

This white shirt, made in Bangladesh, costs 6 euro and I discovered it today when I was doing my Christmas shopping. That’s less than half a packet of cigarettes. In other words: if I still smoked a packet a day, I could buy 2 shirts a day for the same price. Even more astonishing: If I would post this shirt in a package to me friend in Bangladesh, it would cost me 28 euro with ordinary post, four and a half time the price of the shirt itself. Assuming the shirt has about a dozen buttons, these could cost me, if I bought them on the internet, nearly as much as the shirt. In other words, it would almost be worthwhile buying the shirt and, to get my money back, cutting off the buttons and selling them online.

I don’t understand how or, more importantly, why this works. I know that the shirt is probably not being shipped to Ireland in a package with An Post. I know that workers in Bangladesh earn less than workers in Dublin. And I know that large scale manufacturers get better prices on raw material. But still…

We have started to prepare a plan for action for the next week or so. We will eat healthy, sleep as much as we can, drink loads of fluids, and go for a walk every day. There will be days without carers and the house will be much quieter. And in a strange way, we will have more time for ourselves and with Pádraig. It will be nice. And relaxed. And peaceful. As Christmas should be.

(Just in case you were wondering: I did not buy the shirt. It seemed wrong. very badly wrong.)

This was the real Christmas. Earlier on, one of Pádraig’s best friends had called from Kathmandu. And then, at late afternoon, friends came together. Meeting for an evening of great chat and reunion. There were so many of Pádraig’s friends here tonight, all in festive mood, all having a glass of that fantastic mulled wine one of his friends had prepared in accordance with an ancient recipe (at least that’s what he told me). I really loved this night and I’m sure Pádraig did as well. It was really and truly outstanding!

There weren’t many of Pádriag’s friends missing tonight, though the presence of one person in particular was sadly missed.

For him, they sang this song.

Seosamh was here. Even though not in person, he was here amongst us in spirit.

Happy Christmas to all of Pádraig’s friends!

Have you ever been hurt? Badly, not just every-day disappointment, but really hurt? Or has someone very close to you ever been hurt to the extent that it changed their life?

I think that if you have ever made that experience there will always be a raw wound. You might have learned to live with it, You might have ‘forgotten’ about it. Consciously or subconsciously. But that open wound will always be there. And it is most likely that you will do whatever you can not to get hurt again, for that open wound to be touched ever again. And if anybody got ever near it you’d be likely to freak out and go into full defence mode.

That’s how I feel at times. Hurt. With a wound that will never heal. But that I will have to learn to live with.

Pádraig had a good massage day today (moved from Wed) and enjoyed a walk down the street to the post office with the last of the Christmas Cards (so far…).

Not sure what it is like in your country. In Ireland, at this time of the year, almost every second ad on the radio (they are cheaper than the TV ads; there it’s a little less frequent) is about somebody dying or starving somewhere in the world: Sudan, Syria, Yemen. Concern, Trócaire, or the Society of St. Vincent de Paul are all making urgent appeals to our conscience, often using pictures showing utter desperation.

One radio ad caught my attention because it made an appeal to listeners to donate money so that children didn’t have to go to school hungry. In Ireland. I thought I was hearing voices. But I wasn’t. They were dead serious.

I had a checkup today and spent a good part of the day in hospital. Thankfully, nothing serious. But it brought home what it means to be healthy, what it means to be ill, what it means to fear that there might be a serious illness. Hospitals are full of people with this fear. When I walked home, I decided that I will concentrate on what matters most. And that I will get rid of all baggage of all sorts. I decided to do this a few times before. But I’ll give it another go.

Pádraig is doing well. Still doing his ‘tricks’ sliding down and pushing himself back up in the chair.

About a week ago, the German parliament was forced by the courts to make “diverse” an option on the birth register. According to an article on a German news website, people whose sexual anatomy does not fit the typical definitions of male and female will be allowed to change their entry to “diverse.” The “third gender” option places Germany in line with other countries that have introduced measures to recognise intersex people or a third gender, such as Austria, Australia, New Zealand, India, Canada and Portugal.

Going into town to see the lights and feel the excitement of Christmas must be one of the highlights of the year. Pure happiness.

Then, there is the commercial site. I only found a German site and then it didn’t say from which year these statistics are (though looking at the link they seem to be from 2010).

But Ireland is most definitely leading the field when looking at how much people spend on Christmas presents per person. More than three times as much as the Germans!

Tuesday is swimming day. Not today. On the way back from a meeting, I got stuck in Christmas traffic and by the time I made it home there was no point in going. It was too late. Three people had been waiting for me. Pádraig was ready to go. I should have left that meeting earlier or, even better, I should not have organised it at all. We’ll be going tomorrow.

There is no generosity, there is no “Mitgefühl”, no compassion or sympathy, when you leave someone waiting. It was up to me to make this work. Everybody else was ready. I just had to show up at the right time. How easy can it get?

What I am doing is complicated, or, maybe, I’m just making it complicated. I want to make many things happen all at the same time. Too many perhaps.

In my mind it’s the Gordic Knot syndrome that is complicating stuff. It’s waiting to be cut.

Pádraig went out for a brilliant Christmas lunch time break to the Omni, one of Ireland’s first big shopping centres, so old that it had to undergo a very substantial refurbishment not too long ago and is now back to what it was when it opened, about three decades ago – only twice the size.

It was the first time that he had ever been out with someone for lunch. He was in good hands, with two of his professional team who had come up with the idea and had selected the venue. It was a perfect two hours for him, not only because Pádraig got completely pampered but also because he must have felt so happy (and probably relieved) to experience that he doesn’t need us to be with him all the time and that he can have a life outside the home and without us.

That is a big first and a big step towards independence. (A big thank you to “Santa’s Helpers” who made this possible.)

He had brought his four brothers, his sister, his wife, his daughter, his mother, his father, and his grandfather. We had paid for two tickets and got one free for Pádraig. It was the 10th anniversary Christmas with Vladimir concert in the National Concert Hall. It was a bit heavy on the family thing, and it was close to the original man from Vienna, Andre Rieu, but the music was good (that is, if you like this kind of music).

They really tried hard to make it sound Viennese, don’t they?

Pádraig enjoyed the concert, although he said it wasn’t that much better than the free concert at lunch time in St Patrick’s College on Wednesdays. I think, he was winding me up.

For the first time, An Saol had organised an update meeting on its day centre project. We had invited the families who we thought would be interested and there was even one we had never met before previously.

At the same time we had a Christmas get together with great cakes and biscuits as well as tea and coffee.

Für an afternoon, there was a sense of something finally about to happen. Something good.

A lot of work, a lot of patience, a lot of everybody pulling their shoulder against the wheel.

The way to really make an impact, to change the world, and get rich in the process, is to come up with a great idea, to patent it and then just sit down, relax and wait for the money to roll in. And the world to change because of your great idea.

Wrong.

There are many examples, from the 45o screw to great medicines to container standardisation, that prove: real change only happens when people share their ideas and make them freely available.

A recent ‘back story’ from the NYT is a perfect example of this:

Invented in the mid-1950s by Keith Tantlinger, the twist lock, a simple device, made it possible to stack cargo containers aboard ships and securely attach them to truck trailers and rail cars.

Twist locks are placed into the corner fittings of shipping containers, which can then be locked to others by turning a metal handle. They’re simple to operate and extremely secure.
To be useful, containers had to be standardized, and others had developed rival ways of stacking them. But after Mr. Tantlinger persuaded his former employer to release the patent royalty free, it was adopted as an international standard.
These standardized stackable containers quickly replaced the manual loading and unloading of cargo and the cost of transport plummeted, ushering in the current era of global trade.

This is not what you learn in college or business school: you have to share your knowledge with others, openly and freely, if you really want your ideas to take off.

Pádraig has started to move in quite impressive ways on his floor exercise matt during his physio sessions. What is worrying me a little is that he seems to continue with these movements when he is in his chair. There is probably nothing to worry about. He is discovering muscles he had all but forgotten about and is trying to coordinate them. For whatever reason he is doing it, he says that nothing is hurting him. Hopefully, this is just a phase that he will get over with once he has learned iiiiid