#belfast city map
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Not from the ask list but the characters in ur fics as Irish counties and why?
anon, this has absolutely sent me. i have genuinely never seen something more up my alley.
let's start with characters we can pull from the series for ireland's six superior counties, shall we...
antrim = oliver wood
a county full of lads who've never met a spivvy tracksuit they don't think is the height of fashion, and who have a vastly inflated sense of their success at sports.
armagh = tom riddle
armagh has a [deservedly] bloody reputation. he could settle down in the murder triangle. he'd like that.
down = draco malfoy
people who live in co. down really like thinking they're better than the rest of us just because it's easy for them to get to belfast [lads, how's that something to boast about?], so they have to be the series' whiniest flop.
fermanagh = rubeus hagrid
fermanagh is full of docile lads who build things, in my experience.
londonderry = ron weasley
canonically gorgeous, gorgeous girlies live in this fine county - by which i mean, of course, that i do. we deserve to be represented by the series' most gorgeous girly. and a ginger sweetheart with six siblings [so you know which side of the sectarian divide his parents are on...] would go down a storm with our mams.
tyrone = harry potter
my brother once had his nose broken in a pub in strabane, which doesn't sound particularly interesting until you realise that my brother is a priest. by which i mean - a county filled with people who are reckless, quick-tempered, and always ready to throw hands? it can only be represented by one man...
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and then the rest...
carlow = quirinus quirrell
the most interesting thing there is a big rock.
cavan = percy weasley
everyone i've ever met from cavan has been really boring and really tight. so there's that.
clare = ginny weasley
because it's gorgeous, in a not like other girls way.
cork = albus dumbledore
look at this canon line and tell me dumbledore's not a cork man... "In fact, being — forgive me — rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger.”
donegal = sybill trelawney
always away with the fairies up there... and always drunk too.
dublin = walburga black
everyone you've ever met who lives in dublin is genuinely shocked to discover that the rest of the world exists beyond the m50. it's not not giving "has never set foot in muggle london and would die before she did".
galway = arthur and molly weasley
galway is the home of the nation's sophisticated [and, apparently, sexually adventurous] culchies - which fits two people from clearly quite distinguished backgrounds who nonetheless live the way they do...
kerry = gilderoy lockhart
you will never see american tourists get scammed more glamorously than in kerry.
kildare = regulus black
considerably less interesting than - and devoid of identity in comparison to - its neighbour, dublin.
kilkenny = charlie weasley
all they do is have red hair and hurl.
laois = daphne greengrass
on account of her irrelevance.
leitrim = sally-ann perks
on account of her irrelevance.
limerick = bellatrix lestrange
limerick used to be known as "stab city". she'd fit right in.
longford = mungundus fletcher
gombeen men abound.
louth = myrtle warren
because they [by which i mean the two people i know who were born there...] are always fucking moaning.
mayo = remus lupin
perpetually mopey, unless they reckon they're great at something.
meath = cormac mclaggen
they wish they were as class as the lads in dublin.
monaghan = cuthbert binns
genuinely couldn't locate it on a map.
offaly = grawp
i mean, who fucking knows? the entire place is a bog.
roscommon = aberforth dumbledore
you can guess why...
sligo = fred and george weasley
wheeler dealers, the lot of them.
tipperary = fleur delacour
the home of gorgeous, gorgeous girlies with striking accents.
waterford = dobby
they love a good strike.
westmeath = hermione granger
not somewhere you'd expect you'd choose to live if you were a bit of a know-it-all. and yet.
wexford = neville longbottom
they love to bang on about the soil.
wicklow = marge dursley
she drives a range rover and looks down on anyone who farms, change my mind.
[other answers from this ask game]
#asks answered#very normal fic writer asks#northern ireland posting#republic of ireland posting#why have i done this
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Day 2: Soy Cansada
I’d hoped that because I had my home with me I’d be able to camp wherever I saw fit. The problem is that unlike Argentina, most of the land is fenced, but that may change. But what that has meant is that wild camping isn’t possible and looking for official accommodation is needed, and certainly on the route I’ve travelled, avoiding Ruta 5, there’s been few options. I got to a point yesterday where I began to hatch a plan as the tank finally hit zero in Llancagua, 4 miles back down the road on a final climb that in the heat of the day, nearly finished me off. I had water but I went to a vineyard shop and asked for more. As expected they were charming and so was I. I’d sit on their bench as I cooled down and when the moment was right, I’d ask them where the nearest habatacion was. They’d say there was nowhere and I’d ask if I could camp in their vineyard. All very simple. Then as if by magic, using a different word in google maps to search (this time hostal, not hostel, hotel, camping cabanas), this little gem in which I now write from appeared! Hallelujah 🙌 .
“This” is Hostainer. Elish and Eliana are small-holding farmers with two Dalmatians, Bongo and son, Max. They also have sheep and chickens, and have created just 4 cabins and a vast playground in front of it and a water feature which Elish turned on just for me. Who wouldn’t want to stay? I didn’t love the cockerels that woke me at 3:30am but hey, this is rural Chile! I was a little bit broken when I arrived, and sat on my deck scoffing the last bit of food I had: banana chips, chicken slices and a stale bit of bread. Eliana walked past and commented “No Fruta? oy oy oy!” appearing two minutes later with two oranges and four strawberries. There wasn’t anything that could have made for a better stay, other than to have arrived 3 hours earlier and not be sun baked and knackered. Six dog chases probably didn’t help!
I’m trying to think of anywhere in the world where I’ve been that is quite so rural and still tastefully commercial. Those selling their wine produce have home-made signs and are barely noticeable as you pass. They are marketed using their position on the road: 4.5km vineyard. Vendre Vino Tinto/Vino Blanco. The road is so quiet, you have to suspect that they must be selling most wholesale as passing trade must be minimal. In terms of geography, it’s both like Tuscany and where Idaho meets Montana. And always, no matter where I’ve been so far, the snow-covered tips of the Andes are visible, even now as I head towards the coast and Concepcion.
It feels like today is the day to, let me try and put this positively, to try and destroy the myth that South America is a bad and dangerous place.
Over and over again, when I’ve spoken to people from outside of the continent about travelling solo as a female on a bike, the overriding impression is that “you’re going to die at the hands of a sadistic maniac”. They may not use those words but this is what they mean. I read an article last weekend which made my blood boil. To quote:
“Earlier this year, after six weeks of travelling alone around cities across Latin America for work, I met a male photographer friend in Buenos Aires. Walking together at night, my shoulders slackened, my mood lifted, my brow unfurrowed. That's when I realised how hard I'd been working to keep myself safe.
Six weeks of grasping my house keys as a makeshift weapon in my hand. Looking over my shoulder when I heard a noise and crossing the road if I had to; scanning every person I passed as a potential threat. I do the same when I'm alone in Belfast - my hometown, London, or Barcelona. I don't feel less safe in Latin America, but I was completely alone here. When I tried to explain this to my friend and he said, "Yeah, I've not been taking my iPhone out" it was clear that he, like the best men I know, was wildly clueless about the daily lived experience of the women they know.” (Anna Hart: journalist - Independent)
At the swimming pool a few weeks back, a lady overheard me talking to a friend about my trip. I didn’t know her and when I’d finished, she spoke to me and told me “South America is dangerous though”
It is probably the most common emotion that people share with me, both this and last time I visited. Other than the journalist quoted (which blows my mind that she’s a journalist at all, as that means leaving the house, viewing the world and not being “scared all the time” - I don’t know how she breathes!), the people sharing their fears have never been to South America, which is a pretty big continent! I quoted some stats from crime indexes on my last trip but I won’t do that now. But I will say that most of the time (not all! Sometimes I’m tired and make stupid decisions, I’m human), I have common sense. For example, I considered riding out of São Paulo south to ride rather than jump on more planes. I didn’t in the end, not because of the Favelas which are known to be dangerous, are mapped on Google Maps, but because it was raining. I chose not to ride from Venezuela or Guyana as they have huge problems at the moment. It’s no surprise if you look at a continent the size of a continent, there will be areas with troubles. I wouldn’t ride through Ukraine or Iran right now, and North Korea isn’t looking too appealing. Most of the time, 90% of problems happen within the city boundaries, and if you’re not savvy, you might be one of the unlucky few who had a bad time. London is no better. And whilst all fear seems to point towards men, I can’t forget of the 3 incidents in all my time travelling, one of those was instigated by a woman. Some people are bad. Most are good. Look for the positive.
For the people I’ve met so far, once again, Chile is proving to be as welcoming and open as Argentina. Joanne welcomed me into her home on the first night heading south in San Fernando. Mario, deaf but so keen to speak to me that he got his hearing aid, then took me on a tour of his reserve. It was for me a real “Ben Fogle” moment. (I love New lives in the wild). He insisted on letting me sleep in the own cabin as his only guest. And in the provo shop somewhere on the huge Ruta 5 detour, despite his disfigurement, was so keen to talk to me and shook my hand with gusto as I left.
So, in turning the world’s perception on its head, I’m excited to confirm I’ve swayed at least one person’s opinion! It’s someone I used to work with, who like me is now a freelance consultant I’d happily (and have actively tried to) work with again. He recently joined the Facebook group and doing “the most bonkers thing I’ve ever done” and joined the winging it mentality, landing in Buenos Aires next week to smash his way round South America for six weeks! Go, buddy! Anyone else coming?
I neeeeed a shorter day today. I look like I’ve been bitten by horseflies several times in both eyes. It’s not a great look. So south west bound, slowly and less. Around 560 miles from Puerto Montt. If this was the UK, for which the distance of this leg is (Lands End to John O Groats or vice versa) today I’d either be in north Staffs or going the other way, around Edinburgh. A way to go then. Where’s breakfast?
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anyway. while i were ailing with covid i ran the uk election results under proportional representation
i did single transferable vote with a form of automatic AMS on top, and the results are kinda eerily precise to a party’s share of the national vote
eerily similar numbers
but anyway, i used existing constituencies (bc that’s the easiest way of getting data and of doing it, so that’s why the map looks kinda ugly, it’s not bespoke) and grouped them together in groups of eight. i chose eight because wales’ total number of constituencies is a multiple of eight, and scotland only has one too many and england only has one too few. simple as. northern ireland gets three groups of six instead. proportional representation is so cool because if this were an fptp map, NI would be hilariously gerrymandered in favour of unionists, with nationalists packed in the west and cracked out of belfast. i had no real choice with belfast, every seat that surrounds the city proper is very orange. but it’s okay, because it all ends up proportional in the end
the constituencies on britain are in groups of eight, but each constituency sends only six members. the other two, one quarter of all members, pool upwards towards the regional AMS. i dealt with the extra member in scotland by making the Highland constituency span nine seats instead of eight (still sending six members), with scotland getting a bonus AMS member, and i dealt with the one-too-few members in england by making its least populous constituency, the unimaginatively named ‘Wightland’ (i couldn’t think of anything else), span seven seats and send five members. i could’ve solved this by having england annex berwickshire or something but that’s a horrible idea so no
it was actually kinda annoying to make them all groups of eight that made any sense. so that’s my excuse for any inexplicable decision, it has to be weird bc any other decision would’ve only made it weirder. this basically meant i couldn’t really edit it after a while without cascading consequences
so yes. 82 constituencies total. six (or five) members sent via the droop system, with no mandatory threshold. typically the first four or five candidates are elected in the first round, and only the sixth or fifth being assigned by transferring votes around
i didn’t use any data for what voters’ second preferences would be. i totally fudged it. sue me
the AMS-style seats are filled using the exact same ballot. their purpose is to restore the election to proportionality based on first-preferences, after the vote transfers may have caused the delegation to drift slightly from strict proportionality. all the votes are collected and we begin again from the top like nothing happened, then the parties that won STV seats are punished, being deducted the droop formula (for both STV and AMS seats) for every STV seat it won. if a party won STV seats on the basis of vote transfers this may cause its vote tally to reach all the way to zero and get them eliminated — such are the consequences for being overrepresented. now, of the remaining vote tallies, and only of the remaining vote tallies, a HARE tally is calculated and the single transferable election is run. these AMS seats are hare rather than droop, which has harsher tally deductions when a party wins a seat (being biased in favour of any nominally smaller party), because, as these seats only account for a quarter of all seats, and its a supplementary suite of members deliberately designed to be secondary to the STV members, i think its okay and fun to allow the smaller representation leeway in these seats. NI is the exception — its six-constituency seats send four STV members and two AMS members, up from a quarter to a third of all members. this, combined with the fact that it’s northern ireland, makes strict accuracy much more important, which is why NI’s AMS members remain droop rather than hare
using only one ballot, there’re two ways how the specific members elected on AMS could be assigned. either the parties could place all their regional candidates on a regional MegaList, or it could simply be a mathematical system where that party’s candidate that was carrying the most votes when they were eliminated gets elected. i prefer the latter myself
but anyway the results
the story of the night (in terms of voteshare) was the total barnstorm of the independent socialists. they’re now forming a party together, name pending. for this election in retrospect i grouped them all together as an electoral force, working title New Socialists. i defined an independent candidate in this group if they were: 1) on the Transform Party’s Official Left List, 2) endorsed by the DiEM, 3) endorsed by various other organisations such as The Muslim Vote, or 4) stood for peace and socialism against the WPB. altogether this bloc gets nine seats in this model, up from five irl. adam, khan and corbyn win their stv races while hussain and iqbal get through on ams. the four new members are leanne mohamad who fell ~500 votes short of defeating w*s streeting, ajmal masroor who fell ~1600 votes short of winning bethnal green, and faiza shaheen who successfully spoiled the election against the starmerite party when they deselected her, all three of whom are elected via stv, and azhar chohan of slough being elected on ams with the momentum of candidates from across the region
there are also four seats for the WPB, including for g*lloway himself, disgraced be his name. but they had plenty of candidates everywhere, meaning they did get the proportional votes
so the final results were
labour getting a cup more than half of the seats it got under fptp
this is of course with ‘first preferences’ not actually being people’s first preferences. under a transfer system people’s behaviour would change to be more likely to put the less-safe candidate first, with the stv seats going to agreeable candidates resulting from that and the ams seats returning representation to the little weirdos
with 323 for a majority labour would be 99 off. a labour-liberal minority coalition would sail 21 under, which could give the government a few wins on some things. probably el classico under this system would be traffic lights on 344, if it could hold
but anyway that’s what i’ve been up to while my nerves have been trying to escape my body wbu
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Perhaps too niche of an issue for most of urbanist tumblr to care, but I feel like sharing regardless; this is my first-draft proposal for a new system of regional local government for Ireland, though I think its philosophy could be applicable in many other countries and contexts.
Basically, it highly frustrates me that our current local government divisions (counties) are completely arbitrary boundaries that date back to a legacy of colonialism and English rule. Good urban planning is of vital importance in the cause of urbanism and fighting climate change and inequality, but so is regional planning, though it is often overlooked.
To fix this issue in an Irish context I drafted up a map of new regions defined by their closest city, or large town that could become a city in a matter of a few years were it to be reclassified and invested in by the government. This would mean local government could be deferred more power as each region would be centred around a given economic and social hub city. This would fix pointless issues caused by having counties dependent on a given city fall outside of its local government boundaries, such as public transport to connect to Dublin underserving Wicklow even though it is very clearly economically and socially aligned with it.
To have truly regional planning and governance centred around hubs of activity would allow for more balanced development as smaller cities could have a symbiotic relationship with their surrounding areas which grant them more funding for infrastructure and services but also guarantee that those outlying communities are represented in decisions for cities that they depend on and very much have a stake in, for example, being able to travel to with public transport or pedestrian and cycling infrastructure. This isn't even getting into the fact that it reclaims power to determine our own mode of local government by washing away the divisions imposed upon us by imperial rule.
No doubt other countries could benefit from similar changes which would ensure there are no free riders of urban development who need not contribute towards it, as occurs in some instances, but also no cases of communities on the periphery of an urban core being ignored when it is their nearest and most essential hub of activity.
Dublin, Galway, Cork, Belfast, Waterford, Limerick and Derry are already citiesvof varying sizes, the other proposed regions would require a suite of government investment to build them into hubs.
#urbanism#ireland#urban planning#local government#regional planning#public transportation#infrastructure
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How ISO 9001 certification in Ireland lays the premise for lengthy-term business enterprise achievement
How ISO 9001 certification in Ireland lays the premise for lengthy-term business enterprise achievement
ISO 9001 certification in Ireland can help to create the basis for long-time period business enterprise practices in Ireland, supporting boom, efficiency, and lengthy-term viability. The following are some of the processes that ISO 9001 certification promotes sustainable enterprise:
Increased Productivity:
Simplifying strategies, improving workflows, and slicing waste are commonplace components of placing ISO 9001 requirements into workout. Businesses can also help sustainability thru lowering resource use, slicing energy use, and raising productivity through operational optimization.
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The aim of ISO 9001 is to assure everyday product and carrier fantastic thru pleasant manage structures. Improved first-class lowers waste, remodel, and mistakes, which improves client satisfaction and makes use of fewer assets. Because glad customers are likelier to paste around, there is less want for aggressive advertising and the environmental damage that consists of bringing in new industrial agencies.
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Businesses are advocated with the aid of ISO 9001 to discover and decrease dangers nicely. Companies can avoid problems that would otherwise result in environmental harm or fines for non-compliance via way of following regulatory suggestions and detecting potential dangers in their operations.
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Businesses also can limit their environmental effect, generate an awful lot less waste, and use substances extra efficiently via operating closer to better resource manage. Utilizing strength-green technologies, reducing back on the use of raw materials, and placing recycling applications in location are a few examples of this optimization.
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A subculture of continual development is encouraged thru ISO 9001. Companies can find possibilities for innovation and sustainability upgrades, with a view to power lengthy-time period fulfillment, by the usage of routinely studying and upgrading their methods.
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An extra sustainable delivery chain may be ensured with the aid of taking part with providers who adhere to ISO 9001 or comparable requirements. In the deliver chain, providers that positioned sustainability and exceptional control first can help upholding moral ideas and uniformity.
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An ISO 9001 certification indicates a willpower to high-quality and customer pleasure. Establishing trust amongst stakeholders, along side investors, customers, and regulators, can foster enduring connections and business organization partnerships.
Accountability for the Environment:
Although the main goal of ISO 9001 is fantastic control, following its suggestions often consequences in more ecologically pleasant operations. Businesses help environmental sustainability not directly with the resource of cutting again on waste, strength use, and emissions.
Businesses in Ireland can provide a robust foundation for sustainable operations and be a part of financial achievement with social and environmental obligation via manner of implementing and upholding ISO 9001 standards.
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HALAL Certification in Ireland
ISO Certification in Ireland
ISO 9001 Certification in Ireland
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Me again. Just finished work. Had to get the bus home again. Which went okay thankfully. I keep forgetting just how BIG Belfast is. Okay sure it’s peanuts compared to London but it’s the second biggest city in Ireland. Still. It’s a pain in the arse remembering street names so I remember them by buildings or features that stick out. Like a massive guitar shop. Or a statue or something. It’s the only way I remember streets. Do you ever do that? I do. A lot! What about you? I’m just curious.
Ah nice, sorry I'm late replying to this btw. Tbh I've never been there but I feel you in having to know streets more by what's on them than by their names, I find the names are only helpful if you actually have a map open.
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The Big Fish or The Salmon of Knowledge, Belfast, Northern Ireland // 17.11.2017
#printed#ceramic mosaic#sculpture#john kindness#10m#the big fish#the salmon of knowledge#belfast#art#detail#belfast city map#albert memorial clock tower#northern ireland
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Map no2! Derry🥰 (quality keeps getting compressed rip)
#art#art student#artists on tumblr#illustration#ireland#map illustration#northern ireland#belfast#derry city#derry girls#derry walking tour#irish artist#welcome to derry#Derry#Ireland art#Irish illustration
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A view of Belfast in 1789 (pic 1).
A map of how the Belfast area looked in 1790. (pic 2).
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Support for separatist parties in the United Kingdom.
by u/MapsnStats
Map denotes support for separatist politicians in the United Kingdom for elections held between 2021 and 2022.
This encompasses elections to the Northern Irish Assembly, Welsh Senedd and Scottish Parliament.
In areas highlighted in blue in Scotland and in yellow in Wales, a majority of voters voted for candidates in favour of independence from the United Kingdom.
In Northern Ireland, the green areas denote areas where politicians in favour of Northern Ireland leaving the UK to join the Republic of Ireland won a majority of votes.
Areas marked red denote areas of Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland where separatist politicians failed to win a majority of votes cast.
Results for Scotland and Wales were calculated by taking an average of constituency and regional list ballot results for each constituency.
Note that in terms of geographic spread, support for independence in Scotland is generally more popular in the more urbanised central belt of the country around the City of Glasgow, and less popular in rural areas which cover a larger portion of the country's land mass.
Conversely, in Northern Ireland support for unification is stronger in rural border communities and weaker in the urbanised eastern side of the province around the City of Belfast.
It goes without saying that this does not necessarily indicate individual's views on the issue of Scottish Independence/Welsh Independence/Irish Unification.
An average of the most recent 3 opinion polls in each of the respective UK nations suggests support for independence is as follows (with Undecideds removed):
Scotland, 52% Against independence, 48% in favour
Northern Ireland, 60% Against unification with Ireland, 40% in favour
Wales, 68% Against independence, 32% in favour
England, 64% Against independence, 36% in favour
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Where’s Leeds in Eroda?
At the very beginning of the music video, as the globe is spinning, there's this map of the UK.
London. Leeds. Belfast. Dublin. Glasgow.
The first three are places that stand out as important to Harry: London, obviously. Leeds where he and Louis went to the festival in 2011 and he didn't take the bracelet off for 2738239 days afterwards. Belfast the one and only cancelled concert that some feel was connected to babygate. Glasgow and Dublin... I don't know. But it's interesting that of all the cities, these are the ones he highlighted.
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Kenneth Branagh at the Academy Awards on Sunday. GETTY
Kenneth Branagh's Oscar win was long overdue
For a time it looked as if Branagh may be an odd man out as the nominations flooded in over the decades, eight in all in various categories. But none led to an Oscar.
“This story is the search for joy and hope in the face of violence and loss,” Kenneth Branagh said from the stage at the Oscars on Sunday, holding his long-overdue statuette which defines every actor’s career in terms of whether he or she wins one. Branagh’s inspired screenplay for his movie Belfast had finally won the day.
For a time it looked as if Branagh may be an odd man out as the nominations flooded in over the decades, eight in all in various categories. But none led to an Oscar.
Then Branagh did what great artists can do. He pulled from somewhere deep inside himself the narrative of his childhood, which in his case was the trauma of growing up in a city about to explode in violence.
He won for his screenplay, mainly autobiographical, about the outbreak of The Troubles in Northern Ireland in 1968 as seen through the eyes of an inventive young child whose life changes forever on one terrible day when his city erupts.
Branagh’s Oscar acceptance comments about the search for hope in the midst of misery were a not-so-subtle reference to Ukraine as well. For decades Belfast was the most violent city in Europe. Thousands died, a sad reminder of what happens when borders are drawn by an arbitrary line on a map and those who want no part of that state resist it.
Branagh’s family become internal refugees, forced to flee to England when the local troublemakers targeted them. It is a tale told in Belfast, Sarajevo, Ukraine; the true victims of war are often the least culpable. We do well to remember that today as millions flee Vladimir Putin, a demented dictator intent on restoring an empire that never was and creating a Greater Russia that will never be.
Branagh brought alive that reality as it pertained to Northern Ireland, but with a typical Hollywood pathos and a happy ending.
Some critics saw his film as overly bland in its depiction of Belfast at the height of The Troubles. Others, however, saw a well-crafted childhood memoir that exposed what urban warfare really can do to harden hearts and minds.
In the end, Belfast worked in securing Branagh his professional due at last. It was slightly ironic that the Belfast-born actor, who despite his Irish birth is considered a quintessential British classical actor, won his biggest prize by reprising his brief childhood years spent in Belfast before moving to Britain.
The lack of other Oscars for his film gives testament to the drawback of being fastest out of the gate. Adored at the Toronto International Film Festival and the early frontrunner for the Best Picture Oscar, Belfast inevitably faded as the Oscars date loomed.
Branagh, a Shakespearean actor par excellence, might have quoted the bard who wrote “Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” from Shakespeare’s Henry IV.
Indeed, Branagh was not the only Irish-born actor to step on the Oscar stage. Ferdia Walsh-Peelo from Wicklow played Miles, the singing partner, and love interest of Ruby (Emilia Jones) in the Best Picture winner CODA, and he surely has a bright future, but one cannot say the same about the Oscar show itself.
The show was way long with too much virtue signaling. Too self-important by half, the show was once again bloated and pretty boring, until the now infamous punch was thrown by Will Smith on Chris Rock’s face.
Perhaps that was such a knockout that Oscar organizers may finally fix a format that currently is too wieldy. But we won’t hold our breath!
https://www.irishcentral.com/opinion/niallodowd/kenneth-branagh-oscar-win-overdue
Remember… for decades Belfast was the most violent city in Europe. Thousands died, a sad reminder of what happens when borders are drawn by an arbitrary line on a map and those who want no part of that state resist it. — Irish Central
#Tait rhymes with hat#Good times#BelfastMovie#Oscars#Best Original Screenplay#Irish Central#30 March 2022#Belfast#Worldwide 2022#Twitter#Campaign To Shorten Awards Season
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Uhhh but like.. wands and broomsticks that fly is very normal magic? Idk I might be missing something here but that's like the stuff from stories in (I'd say like maybe the majority?) of Europe, together with potions? It fits very well into European's magic myths? Aksjdj but I may have misunderstood you here idk. But yeah, I always found it weird that the UK had it's own school while the rest of Europe shared two schools?? But then again, I'm pretty sure it was said the students are French and uh Bulgarian? I think? So what's up with the rest of the continent? Hell, what's with Asia? Imagine if they had only one school! That would be hell! Tbh it would make a lot more sense if like... every country has their own school? Like a) not every eleven year old kid is able to speak perfect English (aka the language they most likely would converse in, but this goes for any second language probably) and is probably unable to follow the lessons because of that. b) it's just.... too many students for two schools? like we're talking about how many countries? 40-something if you exclude the UK? with lots of different cultures and lots of students probably? I think Germany, or Spain, alone would need their own school, with some Austrian or Swiss students because these are smaller countries and they share a language. (Well, half-half in Switzerland and both countries have their specific dialects etc. but they would still be able to communicate without much struggle). You would probably need multiple schools in the US, too!
There are probably some families that teach their kids magic on their own, but as far as I remember that stuff was never actually established so this is just a wild guess. But most of Europe to do this? Unlikely.
I was more thinking about the one or two word Latin incantations than the wands and broomsticks and potions, although wands and broomsticks are part of a specific image of magic and as far as I’m aware have very little in common with actual historical practices. But definitely the Latin is a bigger issue; if nothing else, why are modern spells written in Latin and not... I don’t know, the actual language the inventor speaks? Also apparently some of the spells are actually based in ancient Greek, so clearly it’s not tied to one language; why would it be majority Latin? What about people who can’t pronounce Latin words? Not everyone can pronounce certain sounds! Also if they’re using classical Latin they pronounce spells wrong in the movie, can’t speak to ecclesiastical but if magic is as old as it’s supposed to be I’d say it would probably be classical anyway ...Also I’m now wondering why the fuck there isn’t a Latin class at Hogwarts, you’d think that would be useful.
The thing with the number of schools is... talking about North America, Toronto alone has over a hundred high schools? One city has more high schools than the wizarding world has schools in total across all of Europe. I know Canada’s big, but it’s not that big. If wizards are that rare then intermarrying with muggles or no they should be so extinct by now! Even with one school per country and keeping in mind that most European countries have much smaller populations than Canada, that would still be an insanely small population. Also there’s travel time to keep in mind; yes, some students will live farther from the school than others and that’s inevitable, but... well. Let’s start with Hogwarts, because it’s the smallest area: Belfast to London? Assuming Ireland doesn’t have its own route to Hogwarts? Nine and a half hours by car. By train, twelve hours. That is a long time for a bunch of kids to travel to get to another train, a lot of it in the wrong direction! Hell, according to the internet London to Fort William (in the Scottish Highlands, although I don’t know how close it would be to Hogwarts’s location) is thirteen hours! And that’s the smallest area we know of that a magical school covers! Let’s talk Ilvermorney, in Massachusets; I hope they use floo powder or something, because to get there from Alaska that is a 73 hour drive. Even flying it’s still eight and a half hours at a minimum! And I feel really bad for the Hawaiian students, because a flight to Massachusetts from there is over eleven hours! These travel times are insane and I strongly suspect JKR didn’t bother looking at a map before placing these schools. Also if the various schools do use floo powder or portkeys or something (which I can only assume they do because holy shit) why the fuck doesn’t Hogwarts? Again, unless the Hogwarts Express is insanely fast that’s still half a day, plus however long it takes people to get to London! Why doesn’t the train at least set off from a more central location or have multiple stops this is so stupid-
Basically yeah, the placement and numbers of the schools makes no sense and I hate it, also I have just spent far too much time looking up travel times.
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This is definitely one of the… wilder stories here, but as always, I suppose people will believe what they will.
This will unfortunately require some backstory, but I guess you could say the long and the short of it is that I played at being God, and it. Well. Kind of sucked, actually.
So, the backstory. I’ll try to keep it brief. I grew up in a small country village about forty-five minutes away from Belfast, Ireland. There wasn’t much going on there, as you could imagine – just a standard rural Irish town, where the most exciting thing that might happen in a week was old Farmer Joe getting a new tractor or something. Anyway, I’m not sure how many of you know about Ireland’s rather troubled past, but for the most part I missed all that. I was born around the time things were finally settling down, and while my earlier memories are filled with bomb scares and low-flying helicopters and gunshots in the night, the distant sound of shouting and the acrid smell of smoke burning a little too close for comfort, by the time I hit my teenage years most of it had wrapped up. Of course, there was the occasional scare here and there, and I’m not saying my friends and I didn’t go out looking for trouble once we were old enough, but it wasn’t the same. I’m not saying that out of a sense of, I don’t know, regret or annoyance or anything. Now I’m older, I’m not so enamoured by the idea of that much violence. I’m just saying it wasn’t really a patch on the kind of violence that used to happened there – the kind of violence that fascinated my friends and I so much. It sounds bad, but really we were just kids being kids. Little boys everywhere play at war games. It just so happened that the war we were playing had happened in our own country. It’s difficult not to be obsessed, when you see the reflection of history on the faces of every generation around you. Even slightly older siblings would know all about it – it wasn’t something you asked your grandfather, distant war stories over some vague European country that you’ve only seen on a map in your Geography classroom. This was our street corners, our high streets, the road outside the house. Here the grass verge at the side of the road where the bodies were dumped; there the lay-by where over a dozen people were blown to pieces. It was awful, but we were children. We were enamoured.
Anyway. The only violence we got really involved in was the summer rioting that happened yearly, like clockwork. It sounds like a joke, but that’s how it goes. You don’t need to know the details, but suffice to say in mid-July every year, the city would light up like we were back in the 1970s. Localised, of course, and still nowhere near as drastic as it used to be, but enough to get a taste. Petrol bombs. Police lines. Armoured cars. Water cannons. Unrestrained summer fun, you could say. But that’s for a bit later.
I’m a writer. I have been since I was four years old. Generally speaking I’m a horror writer, but I’ve branched into historical fiction a fair bit over the years. Living in Ireland, growing up how I did, it was inevitable that I would develop a fascination for Irish history. I was always a very curious child, my head in books, chasing up stories that would keep me awake at night. I never knew any boundaries. I would go after answers with military precision, asking questions, going places I shouldn’t. Dangerous for anyone, of course, but in a country like mine, where crossing the road could quite literally lead to your murder? It was reckless. I was reckless. But that’s the thing about being that age. You think you’re invincible. You think you can do anything.
I was about fourteen or fifteen, at the height of this obsession. I believe I was fifteen when I wrote this particular story, but it’s difficult to say. It was part of a series, and I was going back and forth on it and other projects for many years. Here we finally get to the point of the whole story: I had developed an obsession with Irish history, as I said, and specifically the more “modern” history – from 1916 onwards, the Easter Rising, the War of Independence, all that. I was fascinated by the Irish struggle for freedom, and while age and hindsight has lessened my… enthusiasm for the violence, I do maintain a strong opinion towards the whole thing, which is not the point here so I won’t get into it. What I’m trying to say is that my stories reflected this enthusiasm, and were undoubtedly glorifying in nature, and also at that age I was more concerned with living the fantasy than doing the research, so it was all very self-indulgent. I’m sure anyone who wrote at that age knows what I mean.
My main character… well. I’m sure you know what to expect. He was—well. Me, really. In the way of all main characters at that age, and perhaps a little even as we get older, there’s a piece of us inside all our main characters. Sometimes a little piece, other times just a cooler and more badass version of yourself. Michael was that for me. I suppose that must is obvious; I wasn’t even trying to be subtle. My name is of course Miceál, which for those of you keeping track is the Irish form of Michael. I’m just grateful that I didn’t go as far as to give him my last name, too, but everything else was there. He looked like me, he held the same views and beliefs as me, he acted like me – or at least, he acted in the ways I liked to think I’d act, or how I imagined acting later that night in the shower, reliving the scenario again. He was the best kind of self-insert character, indulgent and fun and a good friend to me. I poured a lot of myself into him. I poured everything into him. He was a constant companion, something that became ever more important to me as my real life—well, went to shit. To put it mildly. I would sit in my room writing my stories, and Michael would go out there and fight the good fight, killing and bombing for good old Ireland, and then I’d shut my computer down and go to sleep feeling just a little better than otherwise.
I’m not afraid to say that I can be obsessive. I like to get into the heads of my characters; I like to know them as well as I know everything. Yes, Michael was me, but he was also a version of me who had done things I have never done. Sometimes I would try to imagine myself as him; wonder what it was like to see through his eyes. Wonder what a me who had done that would look like. Wonder what he would do in a situation. I asked myself that a few times; a lot of times. What would Michael do? I could have put that shit on a wristband. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I’ve always been a bit of a method writer like that. It was normal, until it wasn’t.
I first saw Michael on a hot July day, in Belfast. What we call the rioting season had come around; my friends and I were there to take advantage. Just at the sidelines, mind you – nobody wants to get a face full of water cannon, even on the hottest of days. Michael was in the thick of it though. Of course he was. I’d written him to be that way.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. At first I thought I must be seeing things, but the more I looked the more I realised he looked exactly like me. Only he was a little taller, a little fitter, and his hair looked different. His clothing was different, too; perhaps a couple of decades out of date, but looking at him I saw his clothing didn’t remain consistent. The changes were subtle – material, tone – but I noticed. Looking back, I assume it’s because I never did give a specific date for his story to occur in. Well, wherever he was from he was there now, throwing rocks with the best of them, skipping from stone to stone and hurling them at police lines with an easy swing that could only come from years of practise. When we had all finally cleaned out the area – soldiers coming, a helicopter, the kind of trouble you don’t want to toy with – I managed to catch up with him. He was talking to my friends. They noticed we were both there, but didn’t seem to realise we were two different people. The whole time we were all talking, I couldn’t take my eyes off of Michael. I tried, because I knew how obvious I was being, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t work him out. I couldn’t even trust that’s what I was seeing. And the whole time, Michael watched me back. I knew the look in his eyes. It was his smug little, I know something you don’t know look. Of course I knew it. I had made him like that. I had given him that look.
I didn’t see him for some time after that. Believe it or not, I put it out of my head. I mean, come on. It was probably some other guy that my friends knew. We were in Belfast enough, and Michael isn’t exactly an uncommon name. I put it out of my mind, but I was sure that sometimes, I saw him. I was sure I’d see him in Belfast, ducking down side streets or leaning in close conversation with someone I couldn’t make out. He was always watching me. Sometimes I’d feel eyes on me and know it was him, but when I looked around I wouldn’t spot him. On some occasions – and these were always the worst – I would feel his eyes behind my own. Like he was on the inside looking out, moving independently in there, a set of eyes swivelling around over my own. It happened most often when I was trying to write his story. As you can imagine, I was nervous to do so. The more I thought I saw him, the less I wanted to write, but I didn’t think that was a good idea either. I didn’t know what to do.
It was a sunny weekend just before school started back after summer that I finally resolved to do something about it. I didn’t even feel stupid as I booted up my old Windows 95 desktop and opened Word. Michael’s story was there, in 12-point font as I always wrote then, plenty of enthusiasm but a lot less technical skill. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, and then I typed.
Hello?
Nothing, of course. I deleted the word, wondering what I had expected. Feeling a little stupid now, I tried to think about where to go with the story. It was difficult to write now I had some kind of real person to assign to it all – what were the ethics here? How could I—
I won’t get into that. It would be a philosophical essay all of its own. I sat for a while wondering what to write, and then it hit me that the story had changed. The words Michael had spoken, in the paragraph that I had left off – they were no longer the words I had written. I forget what the original words were now, but they were something relatively simple; some response to another character, and I remember that another name was mentioned in it – the name of Michael’s in-universe best friend, Eamon. Now that name was gone, and the rest of the text had changed, too. Now the writing read something different entirely.
I thought you wanted to know?
I lied earlier. I said that age and experience and perhaps some more emotional maturity had led me to turn away from the kind of violence that fascinated me so much then, and I have no doubt that under normal circumstances it would have done. I had somewhat of a speed run, however; I turned my back on it because
I’m getting ahead of myself.
I had often wondered what it would be like to do what Michael did, of course. To kill and risk death for a cause, to face down prison, torture, exile. I had wondered what it would be like to commit those acts; how easy or difficult it would be to pull a trigger or push a detonator. I liked to think, in my foolish, idealistic teenage mind, that if it came down to it I could. Of course, I was in the very privileged position to not have to actually answer that question.
Michael, on the other hand, knew. And Michael was, if not me, than a product of me. Could it be possible that he could show me?
I ignored the message for several days. I didn’t know what to think. Truth be told I thought I was going mad. School started again and I got so busy that I almost, almost forgot about it – and then I opened the document by mistake one day, got into reading it over, laughing at my brilliant comebacks, you know how it is. And there it was again.
I thought you wanted to know?
Yes, I remember thinking. It stunned me – I remember that. I didn’t want to mess with this kind of stuff – I’ve always been a huge believer in the paranormal, always been cautious when it comes to fucking with that kind of stuff. I believe that magic like this, it requires intent. It needs you to be sure. It knows how you feel, true in your heart. So even when I ignored it again, even when I deleted the words and re-wrote whatever the original had been, even as I didn’t reply… I knew in my heart that my question had been heard by something. I could feel Michael’s eyes on me again, though now I wondered if it was Michael’s eyes, or something else entirely. It felt like a weight. Have you ever been in an old, old place, where you can practically feel the people who lived and died there; reach out and touch them? It felt like that. Like the weight of history was pressing down on me. I didn’t fall asleep easily that night, but when I did sleep was dark and endless.
I don’t know how long I spent in that state. In reality it was only seven hours; I woke up with my alarm. In that time period, wherever I was – because I was not living – I seemed to witness a hundred different lives. Over the course of Michael’s story I had him do all kinds of things; live all kinds of situations. I deleted things, changed others, added things in. I wrote what would now be called alternate universes. In that night I experienced them all. I know how it feels now. I know how it feels to pull a trigger; to watch the spray of someone’s life splatter a wall or a windscreen or the screaming backseat passengers of a car. I know how it feels to push the button, the one that sends a charge surging down a wire or flickering out over my head in an invisible wave of death, notifying the bomb, detonating the explosives. I know how it feels to sit in a hotel bar across a border, listening to the news, sipping a drink and feeling my heart beat in my chest as I add more numbers to the tally, more blood to my hands. I know how it feels to be shot, to be beaten, to watch a friend die, to kill someone who used to be – who still is, despite everything – a friend. I know how it feels to cough blood into my hands, onto the ground; to grip a wound that won’t stop bleeding; the blinding flash of an explosive detonating too soon and how the whole world seems to roar and how there’s a difference between the thud and slap of wet mud hitting the ground and the warmer, denser rain of something that used to be human. For days, weeks, years – I walked in Michael’s shoes, I lived his life, I committed every act.
I felt his pain. His fear. This hellish world that he lived in, created to kill and die and lose and fear, over and over. To meet his God and to finally, finally ask – why?
And what could I say? Because I wanted to know?
Well. Now I do.
#creeptastic#creepypasta#my creepypasta#writing#my writing#short story#fiction#can you tell i've been listening to tma lately?#anyway VERY tempted to record this seems i'm a decent voice impressionist and i have the right accent for the statement lmao
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Guide to the Golden Statuette
A guide to the major nominees of the 2022 Oscars.
Photo via Enterntainment Weekly
By Ysmael Mendoza
On February 8, 2022, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced the nominees for the 2022 Academy Awards, also known as the Oscars. The Oscars, which are regarded as one of the most prestigious awards for film, celebrate different achievements in the film industry. With this guide, you can learn more about the movies, actors, and actresses nominated so that you may be prepared to make your predictions on who will win when the Oscars premiere on Sunday, March 27, 2022.
Best Picture
This is the most important award of the night. It celebrates the entire movie and gives the Oscar to the producers of the film. This year, there are ten nominees: Belfast, CODA, Don’t Look Up, Drive My Car, Dune, King Richard, Licorice Pizza, Nightmare Alley, The Power of the Dog, and West Side Story. Belfast is about the life of a working-class family in Belfast, Northern Ireland during “The Troubles” from the perspective of the family’s nine-year-old son. CODA, which stands for “Child Of Deaf Adults”, is a coming-of-age film that tells the story of Ruby who is the only hearing person in her family. It chronicles her struggle between choosing to help her family keep their business afloat and pursuing her passion for music. Don’t Look Up is a dark comedy film that tells the story of two astronomers going on a media tour to warn the world of impending doom. Drive My Car is a Japanese film about an older widowed actor who agrees to direct at a theatre festival. He meets a young woman who is his chauffeur and the two develop a special relationship despite their rocky start. Dune is a science-fiction epic based on a book of the same name. It chronicles the story of a gifted young man with a great destiny who is sent to the most dangerous planet for the future of his family and people. King Richard tells the story of the father of two famous tennis stars, Venus and Serena Williams when they were children and his fight to put them on the map. Licorice Pizza is a coming-of-age romance movie set in San Francisco during the 70s. Nightmare Alley tells the story of a determined and manipulative carnival man who teams up with an even more dangerous female psychiatrist. The Power of the Dog is a western movie about the story of a cruel rancher who terrorizes his brother’s new wife and stepson. West Side Story is a remake of the 1961 film of the same name. This modern Romeo & Juliet retelling chronicles the story of rival gangs in New York City and the star-crossed lovers left in the middle of the conflict.
Best Actress
This award celebrates the outstanding performances of lead actresses in movies. The five nominees for their roles are Jessica Chastain for The Eyes of Tammy Faye, Olivia Coleman for The Lost Daughter, Penélope Cruz for Parallel Mothers, Nicole Kidman for Being the Ricardos, and Kristen Stewart for Spencer. Tammy Faye Bakker who is a televangelist from humble beginnings chronicles her rise and fall in her career of televangelism in The Eyes of Tammy Faye starring Jessica Chastain as the titular character. Olivia Coleman plays college professor Leda Caruso who is on vacation where she meets a young mother as her own story and past unfold in The Lost Daughter. Janis Martinez Moreno is a new mother facing an unimaginable situation in the Spanish movie Parallel Mothers (Spanish: Madres paralelas) played by Penelope Cruz. Famous American actress Lucille Ball played by Nicole Kidman explores her relationship with her co-star on I Love Lucy, Desi Arnaz in Being The Ricardos. Finally in Spencer, Kristen Stewart plays Diana, Princess of Wales, who is silently suffering while celebrating Christmas with the Royal family as she decides to divorce Prince Charles and leave the Royal family.
Best Actor
This award celebrates the best performances done by lead actors in movies. The five nominees are Javier Bardem in Being the Ricardos, Benedict Cumberbatch in The Power of the Dog, Andrew Garfield in Tick, Tick… Boom!, Will Smith in King Richard, and Denzel Washington in The Tragedy of Macbeth. Javier Bardem plays Desi Arnaz in Being the Ricardos, the male counterpart to Lucille Ball in the iconic I Love Lucy love pair. In The Power of the Dog, Benedict Cumberbatch plays ruthless ranch owner Phil Burbank who terrorizes the lives of his brother’s new wife and stepson. Andrew Garfield plays Jonathan Larson in Tick, Tick… Boom! who is a struggling songwriter trying to get his big break on broadway with his musical that he wrote; all before his dreaded 30th birthday. In King Richard, Will Smith plays the father of two tennis stars Venus and Serena Williams when they were younger and his fight to get their name on the map. Denzel Washington plays the famous ambitious Scottish Shakespeare character Macbeth in the movie adaptation of the Shakespeare play, The Tragedy of Macbeth.
The Oscars are something to look forward to because it honours and highlights the fantastic movies, performances, and more of the year. Whether or not your favourite movies or performances of the year got nominated, just remember that an Oscar does not define the movie or actor or actress’ greatness. Hopefully, this guide informed you about the 2022 Oscar nominees and what the nominated movies are about. Catch the Oscar awards on March 27, 2022!
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