Brown mince, a banged up Mini and a dodgy mullet.

The author makes a gratitude list.

Frilly Keane writes:

I’ve noticed lately, that content beyond the ould’reliables like the Papers, Moynes, Crying Chairs and Leather Jacket Lad, that some themes or topics if you like, relight themselves again and again; The Housing Crisis, JobBridge, Alan Shatter, even a Republican Government got another spin. That’s not a whinge btw, there’s still plenty to be said.

Likewise “My Generation” which I’ve even gotten stuck inta meself on a go-around instalment, yet I’m still not done with it so I’ve gone and given it a new coat of paint for this week\s outing.

So where would My Generation be

Only for

Seat belts, NCT’s and Sat Nav?

Christ only knows since my first car had no seat belts at all and a choke pull that came off a Coke tin. It had vice grips on the steering column and lino samples to cover the holes on the floor.

It didn’t seem to matter then since that industrial rusty grey Mini started every time, it’s 4 gears would bring us to Killarney for under a fiver, and it didn’t get as much as a bob’s worth of insurance.

Eight years later, my next car came with a heavy on the sales pitch about it having seatbelts in the back seat, seriously, you’d swear I was getting all leather interiors and self-parking the way the lad selling it made such a big deal about the Optional Extra.

I’m still more comfortable with directions that require me to watch out for the school yard, the church, the grave yard, the pub, a local character’s house, so robotic instructions that give roads numbers and letters and can’t pronounce Mullingar just gives me ire.

But I couldn’t do without Google Maps and I wouldn’t dream of putting my arse into a car to Cork now that had no seatbelts or insurance. And it’s not just me. Nobody would.

Anyone remember Brown Mince? It was the only meat I ate for years until my late teens. It was on the shopping list one day and I was looking for some good book entries so I went to the butchers.

Brown Mince was the outcome of the butchers bucket, when I saw the lad put a shovel into the bin and empty it into the mincer … I’m getting queasy now thinking of what might have been in that bucket or what state it was in. Thank you Food regulators for Steak Mince, Turkey Mince, and Pork Mince.

An acquaintance of mine worked in a local Bakery back when who still tells the story of oven burns being treated with greaseproof paper and sellotape, if you needed plasters you had ta’ get your own, and then there’s the split head getting seen to with a wipe of the magic sponge/ wiping down cloth/ tea towel or the whatever was damp and came to hand.

I could mention a few work place accidental deaths while I’m at it, but you’ll know some anyway. So thank you for Workplace Safety training, and Compliance, and thank you for proper First Aid Standards and Infection Control Education.

The Chip pan? I suspect most of ye here never heard of them let alone seen one. Its only looking back now I realise how reckless and devious a hazard it is.

But one time we goofed and laughed at the tales of them catching fire in sweaty cramped bedsits with the two rings, and lads tossing them out onto the street, or when we shrugged off our Mammies for warning us not to touch them.

So yes, thank you for the Air Fryer. Thank you too for the Microwave, whether it was to sterilise bottles, reheat my coffee or bake a spud, my days are definitely for the better with this convenience my parents didn’t have and one I couldn’t be without.

Back in the day I had a beauty of a mullet, permed at the back and lacquer stiff, gel quaffed and rolled to the front. Since showers were unreliable in the miserable sense it got dipped under the kitchen tap every morning, now lemme tell ye, the smell of fags and the durt off that head of hair that would make ya gawk. I could actually see thick grey water flood down the sink on that first dousing before the shampoo.

Fair enough, that’s not an experience most of ye will recognise but I don’t think I was the only one that put on smelly clothes on their day 2 outing. So thank you for the smoking ban, and enforcing Fire Regulations.

Competition. Aer Lingus, ESB, Bord Gas, RTE, Pillar Banks and Building Societies, P & T. Supermarkets and Retailers from Furniture to Jeans:

They all had tits made out’ve us and our parents, and theirs etc, before us. Thank you for opening it all up. Transparency in commercial and public life, thank you too for that.

So what if it didn’t stop the related party nudge nudge transactions, the jobs for the boys, wives etc. At least now it can be disclosed and discussed without getting a warning off.

Thank you for giving me the peace of sending a child to school knowing their teacher wouldn’t be sending them home black n’blue.

Thank you for making ambition about accomplishment and achievement and not about putting someone’s nose out or keeping someone in their place.

Ambition is now as everyday as going on to 3rd level, and available to everyone, and not a personal diary entry that no one will ever know of so as to deny a too big for our boots snigger. It’s a while since I heard a “I remember ‘em when they didn’t have an arse in their pants bumming fags” kinda thing.

Thank you too for the Internet, the Wiffy, the Forums, the Online this that and t’other from banking, to shoe shopping. Thank you for the technology that allows me say I’m working even if I’m still in me jimmyjammers.

So where would we be? Lemme me tell ye.

Dangerous driving, eating and cooking hazardous waste, bitching amongst ourselves about that other crowd with all their “pull.” We’d be paying double digit interest rates, but still going cap in hand to the banks (imagine that!) We’d still have to make do with the news we were given and keep our traps shut about it.

That’s where. So thank you.

Frilly Keane’s column appears here every Friday. Follow Frilly on Twitter: @frillykeane

Pic: Bonhams