#omeath

[autotrails]

Irish Auto Trail-Greenore to Newry, County Louth (RI) and County Armagh (NI)

Irish Auto Trail-Greenore to Newry, County Louth (RI) and County Armagh (NI) https://youtu.be/-cv_09gnPkU This Irish auto trail explores County Louth, Republic of Ireland, and County Armagh, Northern Ireland, along Carlingford Lough and the Newry River.

[sonic-oc-showdown]

ROUND 1 BRACKET A

Rose belongs to @sonicanon

Aria belongs to @ask-saffron-and-friends Find out more about them below!:

Rose:

Rose used to sail the seas as a pirate until a bad storm caused the loss of her ship and entire crew, leading her to end up in the Acorn Kingdom and enroll to train as a royal guard so she could still put her swordsman skills to use and go on adventures without having to set foot onto a boat or ship again. She now resides in New Mobotropolis with her girlfriend, twin daughters from a past relationship with one of her crewmates, and stepson. She's optimistic, cheerful, a bit hyperactive, fiercely loyal, and protective. She enjoys sword fighting, baking, pranking her loved ones, ice skating, and spending time with her girlfriend. She is Bisexual.

Aria:

Aria was a girl known as Liliana who was tortured since she was 2 years old and never allowed to age mentally until Tekno and Amy got her into the aria shell by accident and Liliana possessed her and was taught stuff but is extremely energetic now. They has a boyfriend in my friends oc Luke. I made a pin of her that I own and wear daily. I draw everything for them(like all my ocs). Currently she's my favourite oc. They are demiromantic and demisexual. She has ADHD. She is a catdroid:). She was made by Tekno and raised by her and Amy. She's has blackmail on shadow, eggman, Espio, charmy, tails, vector, knuckles, Julie su, amy, eggman, Barby, and ofcourse, the one, the only, blaze the cat. She has three siblings, used to have 4, and will soon have 4 and then 5, Bunz, Starshine, Conan, M!Espio(Tekno found the shell for it), kIylee, and M.P.V. She is such a silly. I roleplay as her in multiple places. She was originally supposed to be aroace but then people started to ship them with Luke so I went along with it. She is part of the chaotix in a roleplay where vector is dead, charmy is phantom rubied, she was hired by Espio and helps him out alot. They fought a demon known as Omeath Peterborough protecting Espio when he was nearly decapitated(RP). She is trusted by the eternity ring

[elysianmars]

I really do love this peninsula so much! 💕

[author145]

The Fleadh

Martin continued to be among my best friends and we spent many days and nights in each other’s company throughout our youth. On quite a number of occasions we were joined by both Andy and Des (not their real names), especially on our trips to the cinema, dance halls, and on Sunday afternoon excursions to a popular seaside resort called Omeath. These were the days before night clubs and budget…

[iq85]

Der Frieden von Omeath

Wir leben am wahrscheinlich sichersten Ort von ganz Irland. Hier wird zwar ab und zu mal geschossen oder vielleicht ein Doppelmord verübt, ansonsten ist es aber sehr friedlich: die letzte ernsthafte Straftat fand vor drei Jahren statt, als jemand in der örtlichen Tankstelle eingebrochen hat. Der Täter ist bekannt.

Bei uns leben nicht viele Leute, aber wir sind ein Touristenmagnet. Doch obwohl wir direkt an der Seepromenade leben, ist unser Auto nie verschlossen. Selbst die Hintertür schließen wir nur nachts.

Denn bei uns in Omeath passiert einfach nichts. Dafür sorgt bereits die Grenze, denn wer immer in Nordirland gesucht wird, wird zuerst einmal bei uns im Dorf Unterkunft nehmen, bevor er weiter ins Landesinnere transferiert wird.

Omeath war schon immer dein Zentrum des Widerstands. Die berühmt-berüchtigten IRA-South Armagh-Brigaden unterstanden Omeath im Kommando.

Die irischen Regierungen mögen Omeath nicht. Deshalb fließt auch die staatliche Wirtschaftsförderung konsequent am Ort vorbei und wird in Omeaths reiche Nachbarschaft, nach Carlingford verschoben. Wie auch sonst überall im Land ist dafür aber auch in Carlingford die Kriminalität hoch.

An Omeath gehen die Kriminellen vorüber, denn keiner ist so verrückt, dass er sich mit dem IRA-Dorf anlegt. Für die örtliche Gardaí geht das in Ordnung, denn wann immer es in Nordirland einen Anschlag stattfindet und Spuren in den Süden führt, wird zur Strafe bei Omeath in den Wald gegangen und irgendein altes Waffenlager ausgehoben.

Denn in unseren Bergen werden die Leute trainiert.

So ist Omeath und hier bin ich glücklich, denn es ist eines der letzten Paradiese, wo Freiheit wirklich Freiheit ist. Würde man einen Brief an „Walter in Omeath“ schicken, würde er ankommen. Selbst Marianne Maginnis hat auf diese Weise Post aus Amerika bekommen, dabei stand auf dem Brief nicht „Omeath“ sondern „Ireland“ drauf.

Die Menschen in Omeath sind bekannt, und deshalb gibt es bei uns auch keine Hausnummern, denn jeder weiß wo der andere wohnt. Ed Sheerans Sommerhaus liegt oberhalb der Hauptstraße, Fergus der Schwule wohnt in der Seevilla neben der Kirche. Der zweihundert Kilo schwere Gerüstbauer lebt zweihundert Meter rechts im Strandhaus, der Schwarze, Tony, in der Nähe der Fischfabrik, und neben uns direkt ist Willy, dem das Hotel mit der besten Lage gehört, in das trotzdem prinzipiell kein Fuß hineingesetzt wird. Denn sein Hotel ist ein Belfaster Außenposten, und obwohl Belfast und South Armagh auf derselben Seite kämpfen, sind die Kommandostrukturen unterschiedlich, sodass man sich aus dem Weg geht.

Selbst wenn auf der Grünen Insel zur Zeit kaum noch geschossen wird, wird es in Omeath erst Frieden geben, sobald die Grenze zwischen Nord und Süd abgeschafft ist. Solange wird Omeath weiterhin ein Kommandoposten sein und automatisch friedlich bleiben. Denn hier ist der Kopf, und niemand scheißt dorthin, wo er isst.

Die letzten, die diese ungeschriebene Regel zu brechen versuchten, wollten in dieses Haus einbrechen.

Und zu ihrem Glück hatten die Hausbesitzer die Gardaí gerufen. Ansonsten wäre ihnen ernsthaft etwas zugestoßen. Denn als diese hörten, dass es in Omeath Ärger gab, wurde sofort die Armed Support Unit gerufen, damit es zu keinen Zwischenfällen kommt.

Denn normalerweise läuft Kriminalität in Omeath so wie im Fall unserer Tankstelle: der Täter wurde nicht erwischt, sondern ist bekannt, sodass man weiß: er wird es nicht wieder tun. Denn er wurde gewarnt.

[curiousswift]

Irish sunsets at the beach 🤙🏼

[jemej3m]

A prompt for your consideration: pro Exy player Kevin Day, many years into his career, taking a sabbatical. He heads to Ireland to get in touch with mother's side of the family. Enjoys slowing down, reading + meets a man who falls in love with him as he is, not Kevin Day the Exy star.

okay but irish history is so rich and so awful and no one even cares at all about it, so this is the idea i got

*

Kevin was well used to flying, but usually it was towards Exy, not away from it. 

Neil would tell him he was flying away from his problems, running from them, if you will, but Kevin disagreed. He was returning. He just needed some time to himself. It was unlike him, he knew, to want to set Exy aside and live differently for a moment. His life depended on Exy. It was what he was risen upon. Some assumed that it all he could realistically talk about or be interested in. 

But even the world-famous, most talented striker known to Exy needed some variation. 

He and Thea had separated a while ago: Maybe that was why he’d found his life so monotonous recently. She always had provided a welcome distraction from the chaos and the constant threat of death looming over his head. 

But he was thirty five now, and the Moriyamas had laid off. He earned them well into the millions. They could live with him taking an off-season to himself. 

(That was Neil’s suicidal confidence getting to him. After all this time, it was bound to.)

He tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair as the plane rumbled down the runway and flung itself into the sky.

He was finally homebound. 

*

Kevin’s mother was tucked into a dismal corner in Newry. He’d flown into Belfast and rented a car to work his way from North Ireland down into Ireland. He stopped at gas stations and pubs and no one really knew who he was. 

He kept the tattoo concealed by a few splotches of makeup, just in case. 

Anonymity was a beautiful thing. He could book into a hotel room without the receptionist gushing wildly over him: He could sit outside on a park bench with only a pastie and a bottle of water (no more alcohol, not since college) and no one would waddle up to him and bother him.

The quiet was - well overdue. 

He crossed the border on the way to Omeath, looping around and falling back to Dundalk.

He didn’t even mean to stay there - he’d intended to travel to Dublin and reconnect with lost family ties, somehow - but he saw a small, water-logged poster outside of a quaint looking cafe and decided to stay an extra night. 

Irish History: Come and Chat! 6pm with Professor Meir

Kevin was a fucking sucker for history. He missed it more than he was willing to admit, but he was alone here: No one knew him, no one needed to, and that was fine. 

So he booked himself a bed-and-breakfast and spent the day in Dundalk’s public library, letting his fingers brush across the spines of novels and poetry. 

He had the time. He could read Keats and Heaney and Joyce. He could try interpret the non-translated version of Sweeney’s journey, or even attempt Ulysses and enjoy proper European coffee beans and fresh produce that was a staple rather than a privilege. 

He ended up in the public library for hours, reading an annotated version of 1979′s Field Work, completely and utterly absorbed. There was a chair opposite him, and for a good half an hour, he sat and constructed an image of Kayleigh Day, wondering what would have happened if she’d just lived.

He didn’t miss his mother, really. He just - wished they’d had more time. Wished he could venture through their homeland together, hand in hand, and have her point out where she grew up, where she went to school, where she picked up a lacrosse stick and decided to change the rules. 

At five-thirty he went out to grab something to eat, walking slowly back to the little brown-stone cafe, tucked into an alleyway’s darkest nook. The warm glow emanating from the windows was inviting and Kevin gave up on stalling time, entering the premise and removing his coat. 

The cafe had wooden beams running across its ceiling and a fire crackling in the corner. All the chairs had been dragged to face the mantelpiece, which heralded a man about Kevin’s age. He didn’t strike Kevin as a professor. Where was the coat, the slacks, the boater shoes? Kevin’s own history professors at Palmetto had dressed so similarly that he could barely recall their differences, fifteen-odd years later, but this man looked like nothing of the sort. 

He was in a white button-down, rolled up to his elbows with the top button popped. The jeans he donned were tight to his calves, his hips at a lazy tilt as he grinned at the early-comers. 

Kevin was only ten minutes early, but it seemed as though there were some even more enthusiastic than him. They had to be regulars: They chatted with the professor on a first-name basis. 

“Tea or coffee, love?” The patron of the cafe asked, sweeping around the tables that had been pushed aside in favour of the talk. Kevin jolted, voice stuck in his throat momentarily. His tattoo was still covered, wasn’t it?

“Yes,” He said carefully. “Cappuccino, please.”

She clucked her tongue distastefully but then winked at him, sending two completely contradictory signals. “Americans.”

Maybe it was an Irish thing.

Kevin took his seat. 

The professor acknowledged him with a reserved smile. “Newcomer. What’s your name?”

“Kevin.” He said, almost wincing at how his own accent twinged the name out of its Irish lilt. 

The professor’s eyes glittered, a shade of brown deeper than the blackest coffee. “Welcome, Kevin. I’m Cian.” 

“Fitting.” Kevin muttered. Cian meant ancient. 

The man laughed: it sounded like bells. “Your accent is deceiving. I’m guessing you’re Irish?”

“Northern.” Kevin agreed. “My mother was Northern Irish.” 

Cian gave him an appreciative look, lifting his chin slightly so that the curls shifted out of his gaze. His hair reminded Kevin of Nicky. Maybe Kevin could go visit Nicky and Erik on the way home: He hadn’t seen them in years.  

The woman handed him his coffee, ruffling his hair affectionately in that way that old women loved to do. Kevin couldn’t escape the professor’s gaze as he fixed his hair, letting his cheeks flush. 

No one had recognised him as of yet, but attention outside of the Exy realm was unknown and unprecedented. Kevin would be an idiot if he couldn’t recognise the appreciative curl to the professor’s lips, but it wasn’t like he was here to act on urges he’d repressed for years. 

More people arrived: The moment passed. Kevin clutched onto his mug and avoided Cian’s gaze every time he glanced in Kevin’s direction, eyeing the hint of a collarbone that peeked out from the man’s popped collar. 

That wasn’t exactly helpful either, Kevin supposed. But it was all he could do to avoid the feeling of being taken apart, layer after layer of his resolve peeled back by just a warm gaze. 

No one had looked at him like that in a long time. 

It was - 

thrilling. 

* 

ThAnK U I LovED THiS PRoMpTTttttT (i will do a part 2 i swear)

[fluffheaven-blog]

ABOUT US

"Fluff Heaven - Irelands leading sustainable store Welcome to Fluff Heaven. What started as a quest to find cloth nappies in Ireland 17 years ago, has turned into a passion for helping families to live more sustainably. Our motto is quite simple, find products that we want, that are sustainable, that are easy to use and ethical. If we want them, then hopefully families like us, will also want them.

At Fluff Heaven, we know how important raising your family naturally is to you, just like it is to us. We specialise in organic baby products, reusable nappies, and baby carriers. Did you know we have 10 baby carrier consultants on our staff, so we can get you the best baby carrier for you. Look at our wide range of sustainable wooden toys, toys that promote imagination and learning in your children, whilst they have hours and hours of fun. Quality wooden toys last generations, and we have the best range of the best quality wooden toys in store.

If you are trying to go zero waste, or reduce plastic in your life, then we try and make that as easy for you as it can be. From our wide range of reusable water bottles to reusable lunch bags, bags for life and much more. We also specialise in zero waste bathroom necessities like natural deodorant, natural soap, and bamboo toothbrushes.

We've also put together a specialist ethical gift selection, gifts which won't cost the earth and will give a present to our planet as well as the recipient. We hope you like our store, pop in and see us in our shop, we love meeting you all!"

CONTACT DETAILS

ADDRESS: Ardcullen Omeath, Dundalk Louth A91Y7WK, Ireland

EMAIL: hello@fluffheaven.com

PHONE: 429375725

WEBSITE: https://www.fluffheaven.com

[lucaschmielewski]

#omeath #chmielewskiphotography #spring2013 #ireland (w: Omeath)

[amandabrocklehurstarchive-blog]

strange birds // Amanda & Sue (flashback)

Mandy estava inquieta. Havia chegado à sua casa fazia uma semana e, apesar de gostar de Hogwarts, amava estar no interior, em meio ao mato e aos animais, com a mãe e as quatro irmãs. Só sentia falta de Sue.

Felizmente, Sue estaria ali a qualquer momento. Haviam combinado que ela estaria em sua casa à uma da tarde, bem a tempo para o almoço mais luxuoso que a família já havia visto fora do Natal. Sua mãe, Bridget Cleary, sempre havia gostado de impressionar, e havia bordado até guardanapos novos para a situação. Amanda aproveitara para bordar uma fronha para o travesseiro do sofá-cama onde ela dormiria, e agora não fazia ideia se Sue, acostumada a uma classe bem mais alta, acharia brega, mas não tinha mais tempo para desfazer os pontos.

Sentada em um dos sofás da sala, ela enrolava uma das mechas do cabelo loiro cuidadosamente lavado e escovado logo cedo e tentava observar sua casa por outros olhos. Havia fotos de sua família por todos os lados, bruxas e trouxas, e a tinta das paredes estava descascada e rabiscada em algumas partes. Além disso, sua mãe estava em pé ao lado da lareira, usando seu melhor vestido. Suas irmãs vestiam todo tipo de roupa: Amelia usava as sofisticadas roupas que as trouxas de Dublin e Londres favoreciam, enquanto Ada tinha os shorts sujos e os cabelos desarrumados por causa do quadribol que havia praticado mais cedo. Ela nunca se importava em trocar de roupa depois que voltava, para o desespero da mãe. Amelia havia lutado muito para reativar o flu da lareira da sala, e sua posição no Ministério havia sido importantíssima. Desde que ela havia começado a quebrar feitiços em Londres, o lar das Cleary havia visto uma memória considerável: todas as janelas tinham cortinas novas e as camas haviam até sido trocadas, dando fim ao desastre dos estrados quebrados.

Amanda amava sua casa. E só esperava que Sue pudesse amá-la tanto quanto ela. Mal podia esperar para mostrar a ela todos os seus lugares favoritos em Omeath, e não conseguia evitar o medo de seu entusiasmo não ser correspondido. Eram tantos os pensamentos em sua cabeça que ela se sentia prestes a explodir. E nada de @intothesuns chegar.

[seachranaidhe]

NI newspaper headlines: 'Organised criminals' suspected of RUC/PSNI murder bid

NI newspaper headlines: ‘Organised criminals’ suspected of RUC/PSNI murder bid

Police tape: Image copyrightPA MEDIA

All four of Northern Ireland’s daily papers are leading with the same story – the attempted murder of an off-duty police office near the Irish border.

The officer was confronted by a masked man aiming a shotgun at him as he opened the door of his home in Kesh, County Fermanagh, on Thursday morning.

Despite the ongoing threat from dissident republicans, this…

[vegandonkeyboi-blog]

Here’s some photos I got while exploring familiar places and trying to spot things that I hadn’t before.

All the photos are from Cooley Peninsula in North Louth, Ireland and are of:

Carlingford Garda Station

An abandoned house close to Maeves Gap

A Hawthorne decorated for Christmas on the mountain road to Omeath

Carlingford Library (with the now empty Presbyterian Church in the background)

The road leading from Long Woman’s Grave

Goalposts in a field near to Slieve Foy

[theonemushroom]

Stopped in Omeath for supplies (at CAFE ROSA) https://www.instagram.com/p/B1Da7_wFmmGBydUnDIBytsIHyQnG3RXBdhpWzQ0/?igshid=na50fafzlsuc

[pattynanmedia]

Niall Mc Guigan Fri 19th April 2019. The Wildwood Cafe,  Liberties of #Carlingford #Omeath, Co. #Louth Ireland Tel: +353 087 753 5232 € 35.00 -- Doors  8:00 p.m.

[iq85]

Home Office und mehr Sex: Tag 19 von 28

Die technische Trinität jeden Mannes sind KlappTopkomputer, Smartphone und Karre. Funktionieren alle drei, ist er glücklich, machen sie Probleme, ist seine Umgebung unglücklich, denn er macht Probleme. Ich bin da keine Ausnahme.Als Forscher bin ich von meiner Technik abhängig wie das nützliche Pferd vom Hufschmied - alles was ich tue, findet in den Tiefen meiner Rechner statt, wobei ich ohne Auto fast noch mehr aufgeschmissen bin - alle IRA-Bibliotheken befinden sich im fünfzig-Meilen-Radius von Omeath, nachdem ich meine eigene Bibliothek aufgegeben und bereits in die Mongolei verschickt habe. Der kümmerliche Rest befindet sich, eingemottet, in den Datenspeicher meiner Computer - und der Kreis schließt sich.

Heute morgen ging mein Laptop kaputt. Es ist schon der zweite, nachdem meine Frau den anderen Vaio zu Boden geschmissen hat. Der Laptop mit dem kaputten Bildschirm beinhaltet fast vierhundert Bücher und Fachartikel, die die IRA betreffen. Der Vaio von heute morgen beinhaltete alle Arbeitsdateien, die ich vom letzten Fiasko gerettet habe. Und jetzt sitze ich mit dem zweiten zerstörten Computer da.

Zu Coronazeiten einen Computer finden ist einfach - alle brauchen Geld. Was schwierig ist, ist einen Reparateur zu finden, der genauso gut wie billig ist.

Ich habe soeben das Internet nach Computerfachleute in Newry durchforstet, dabei habe ich mehrere verschiedene Händler gefunden. Der erste ist Currys PC World, eine Art von britischem Mediamarkt. Curry's hat gute Preise, das weiß ich, weil ich dort meinen Desktop-Bildschirmcomputer gekauft hab. Allerdings hat Curry's unglaublich negative Bewertungen: 1.000 von 1.145 Trustpilot-Bewertungen sind unteriridisch.

Als ich meinen Rechner kaufte, musste ich eine Stunde im Laden stehen. Dabei hatte ich mich bereits für einen Computer entschieden und wollte nur noch wissen, ob ich zehn Prozent Rabatt kriege. Mein Computerberater beriet stattdessen einen alten Mann, bei dem offensichtlich war, dass er nur Redebedarf hat und zum Schluss trotzdem nichts kauft. Bei Currys wird anscheinend langfristige Kundenpflege großgeschrieben, aber für die Trustpilot-Bewerter sind sie nur inkompetent. Und das war mein Verkäufer ebenfalls, denn als er endlich zu mir kam, war er wirklich überrascht, als ich sagte, "geben Sie mir die zehn Prozent und ich kaufe ihn.” Denn mit Ausnahme von diesem Computer stand auf allen Rechnern "zehn Prozent Rabatt" drauf, und ich wollte nur wissen, ob der Rabatt auch für diesen gilt. Jeder Mitarbeiter hätte mir diese Antwort geben können, aber ich wurde ständig nur zu diesem verwiesen, ansonsten wurde mir nicht zugehört. Und das macht mich stutzig, ob ich dort wirklich einen Fachmann finde. Denn all das ist höchst inkompetent.

Der zweite Händler heißt "Gadget Garage" - an dessen Shop bin ich schon mehrfach vorbeigegangen und nur nicht gewusst, dass er Computerhändler ist. Ich wollte spontan zu Curry's Garage, aber sein Laptopangebot hat mich stutzig gemacht: er bietet Laptops für 350 Pfund an, die bei anderen entweder neu 220 oder als neu ursprünglich vierhundert Pfund gekostet haben - denn einer der Rechner ist sechs Jahre alt und wurde schon damals als scheiße bewertet.

Soll ich zu so einem Abzocker meinen Rechner bringen? Denn er verkauft doch nur Scheiße an Leute, die ihm Reparaturen bringen. Und die Reparaturen sind echt günstig. Gadget Garage hat wohl nur Arme (und) Dumme als Kunde.

Der dritte Händler ist Newry Computer Centre, und der ist einfach teuer. Ich war damals dort drin und bin hintenrum gleich umgekippt, weil der Händler gepfefferte Preise verlangte. "Ich verlange kein vollausgestattetes Rechenzentrum, sondern einfach nur einen Computer, der gut aussieht, etwas leistet und darüber hinaus auch günstig ist.”

Welcher der drei Banditen wird mir daher am besten meine Computer reparieren? Curry's wird wahrscheinlich daran herumpfuschen und ihn irgendwo hin einschicken, dabei heißt jede Minute ohnen Rechner, ich verlier' einen Tag, denn ich brauche ihn jetzt, gleich, sofort, denn ich forsche damit. Gadget Garage wird wahrscheinlich genauso pfuschen und mir dann gleich den günstigsten 350-Pfund-Mist von 2014 aufdrücken. Und der dritte wird mir so eine gepfefferte Rechnung verpassen, dass ich wieder hintenrum umkippe und nicht mehr arbeiten kann.

Und ich selbst sehe mich weder kompetent noch motiviert dazu, dass ich die Reparatur mir selber antue. Im ersten Augenblick der Panik hatte ich versucht, das Problem selbst zu beheben. Der Rechner geht an, die Tastaturen leuchten auf, aber der Bildschirm bleibt schwarz, bis auf einmal alles ausgeht, aber die Festplatte weiterläuft. Ich muss dann jedes Mal die Batterie entfernen, damit er ausgeht.

Ich versuche dadurch im Internet nach Antworten zu finden, aber kein Suchbegriff passte zu meinem Problem - und die Videos, die ich ansah, sagten alle: das ist wohl kein großes Problem.

Es ist also ein Standardproblem, das behoben wird, wenn man einfach Standardrichtlinien befolgt. Und damit ist auch klar, wo ich hingehe: ich gehe zu Currys, denn dort werden stur Standardrichtlinien befolgt oder gebrochen - weshalb es so viele Beschwerden gibt. Aber die Beschwerden betreffen alle Kundenservicedienstleistungen, beim technischen Support gibt es Standardstrukturen, denen rein logisch gefolgt wird. Curry's technischer Kundendienst ist also kein Problem, denn nur am First-Level-Support wird gespart. Second-Level-Support ist erfahren, dort wird daher voraussichtlich weniger geschlampt.

Soviel zu meinem heutigen Homeoffice- und Beziehungstag - denn obwohl meine Frau voraussichtlich beide meine Rechner zerstört hat, habe ich sie nur am Anfang als Ursache bedacht und mich danach um die Problemlösung gekümmert. Denn meine Frau ist kein Problem. Es ist meine Pflicht, dass ich mich besser um meine Datensätze kümmere , falls irgendwann was ausfallen wird.

Nachtrag: Ich war bei Currys PC World und die sind wirklich beschissen, denn einen Technical Support gab’s gar nicht. Und der Produktberater hatte von Computer keine Ahnung.

[lucaschmielewski]

#omeath #chmielewskiphotography #spring2013 #ireland (w: Omeath)