Tag Archives: Irish Blog Awards

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I’m back from the Blog Awards. It was great fun, I met lots of people I met last year, danced in front of the whole room with Grannymar for her birthday (and stood on her foot twice, sorry GM) and met Speccy, one our little gang here, who by the way is far too attractive to be called Speccy.

I’d write more but I’m afraid I’m going to fall face first onto the keyboard from tiredness, so I’ll leave today’s short.

I have tomorrow off, booked it as soon as I knew the awards were on.

It’s the cleverest thing I’ve done all year.

Up For The Day

Here I am in Belfast, all prepared for tonight’s Irish Blog Awards.

I was really looking forward to the train journey up, but stayed up till quarter to three last night watching RedNose Day with my daughter, then got up at seven, so I’m afraid I slept from Dublin to here.

I’m not in the final in any category, but our little commune here is well represented. Grannymar is in the final of the Best Personal Blog Section, while Grandad, who lurks here sometimes, is in the Best Humour Blog section, so I’ll be rooting for both of them.

I’ll give a report tomorrow on as much of the evening as i can remember. Now I’ve to go out and see if I can get a tiara to go with my ballgown.

A Big Thank You

People who don’t blog think that it’s a solitary and therefore slightly sad activity. They equate it with trainspotting, or sitting in the corner of the pub behind a newspaper, or watching the box set of Lost.

We bloggers know that there’s nothing solitary at all about it. It’s like running a coffee shop. The making of the coffee may be a solitary activity, but once it’s out there other people will try it. Regulars will notice differences in flavour – some days it’s a bit bitter, some days it’s far too sugary, some days they’ll think “that was very weak”. On really bad days they’ll splutter and think “what the hell is this crap, it’s like dog’s pee“. Many of them will comment, usually favourably, or they wouldn’t have become regulars. Others will simply follow you, day after day.

We like this. Bloggers are among the few people on earth who welcome stalkers.

Anyway, unless someone who’s never heard of me hit the wrong button by accident, one of you has nominated me in this year’s Irish Blog Awards. And I just want to say a big, genuine thank you.

I’ve been nominated in the Best Personal Blog category. I’m honestly not showing false modesty when I say that I’ve no chance of winning, or indeed of making the Shortlist of Finalists. It’s the biggest category, it has all the best writers and all the best, most open and honest writing.

Sheer class, that is

It also puts me in the same category as some of my readers, and therefore my friends. So Grannymar, Jo, Grandad, congratulations to all of you as well.

I’m a bit disappointed that I didn’t get nominated in the Technology category, especially after the skilful way I hid my face in the photo in the recent post about my days as a blonde (feck it, let’s see it again, it’s genius). People who’ve mocked up photos of UFOs, Bigfoot  and the Loch Ness Monster all envy my photoshopping skills.

I'd do better than this

With me not in the category the Award will probably go to some nerd writing about cloud technology (I think that’s just the geek word for ‘umbrella’). I’d write angrily to the IBA committee via their RSS Feed, if only I’d the faintest idea what that was.

Anyway,  it’s nice to know that once you’ve finished a post, fiddled just a tiny bit more with it, then finally hit the ‘publish’ button, that people take the trouble to read it. And it’s nice to know that people enjoy it. Believe me, that gives me far more pleasure than anything I write may give to all of you.

So thank you once again.

Area 51

One of the categories in next months Irish Blog Awards is “Best Outraged Blog Awards Post”, which they define as “Conspiracy theories, cries of corruption and calls for a million blogger march on IBA HQ”. This is my chance to tell the world the truth about the Irish Blog Awards and the dark figures behind it…..

The theme for last year’s Blog Awards was “Blogging is Dead”, because of a number of newspaper articles sniping at blogging and telling us it was finished. The evening opened with the committee carrying a coffin up onto the stage.We all laughed.

What no-one realised was that the coffin actually contained the body of a blogger who had been going to stand up and tell the room all about what a fix the Blog Awards are. I am taking up the mantle in his memory.

The Irish Blog Awards are run by the same people who run this country – the rich, the privileged, the powerful. When blogging began these people quickly realised the potential threat that we posed with our free unedited websites, denouncing corruption and cronyism, so they secretly moved to control us.

Have a look at some of the categories – ‘Best Blog of a Politician’, ‘Best Blog of a Journalist’, ‘Best Blog of a Business’. These are the people who truly run our movement – the Government, the Media, the Businessmen.

There is no category ‘Best Blog of a Blogger’.

The other categories are fixed too. The best Humour Blog is won most years by Twenty Major. Have a look at these two pictures:

Twenty bin Laden

Osama bin Major

Have you ever seen the two of them in the same room together? I think not.

And so on, category after category. Last year’s ‘Best Use of the Irish Language in a Blog’ was won by a guy who writes in Irish. I mean, what chance had the rest of us got against him?

This year they have come up with the brilliant idea of having a category for the best post denouncing them. They knew that what we nutters conspiracy theorists crave most is publicity and they knew that this would flush us out into the open. Thus, although I know that by writing this I am exposing myself to them (er, should re-write that sentence but don’t have time, they’ll be on to me by now) I cannot resist. Even now they are sitting in their offices in the Texas Blog Depository reading this, and by using my IP address, Google Maps and a Garmin Sat-nav they will be here soon. Once here they will use their deadly mind-machine to wipe all knowledge of this conspiracy from my mind. I will be the blogging equivalent of a Stepford wife.

Don’t believe me? I bet I never write about this topic again.

A Well-Conceived Blog

I’m home and am relaxing, having had the foresight to take today off in the knowledge that I’d probably need it to recover. 

The Blog Awards were great fun. I met a lot of people I knew from last year, met lots of lovely new ones (hi Grannymar, hi Eimear & Alan, hi Jen, hi Ellen, hi Stan), made a bit of an eejit of myself (when Panti went up to get his award I said to Grannymar and Jo “oh, he’s a bloke” – I’d seen him earlier and just thought he was a seven-foot tall woman) and really enjoyed the event, which as always was very funny and very well-run.

The fact that the clock went forward meant that staying up till three suddenly became staying up till four, which made me feel young again (at least till I’d to get up the next morning).

The highlight of the night for us here in The Community of Tinman’s Blog, though, was that our own Martin, commenter, Dutch resident and Louisiana elopee (I’m sure it should be eloper, elopee just reads better), won Best Personal Blog. Since he comments here just as Martin you may not all know that he is the author of X-Box for Nappy Rash, a blog which told the tale of the attempts of himself and his wife ET  to conceive a child over a two-year period. It was funny, often rude, and frequently heart-breaking as month after month would end in disappointment.

And winning this Award would surely have been the highlight of his year, had not their efforts (sorry Martin, can’t think of any other way of putting that) been finally rewarded five weeks ago by the birth of Sanne.

Martin, you should have heard the cheer from the whole room when your name was read out. You’re a very popular and well-deserved winner.

Congrats from all of us here.

Early House

Ok, I’m here.

I arrived last night, went rambling, found the hotel where the awards are on tonight, but couldn’t find the entrance. Eventually, just when I decided that you must have to make a Harry Potter-style run at a blank wall to get in, I found the entrance up a narrow lane.

I’m staying in this hotel

The Meyrick, right in the centre of Galway, and if ever someone deserves an award it’s the person who took that picture. See the lovely grounds at the front? That’s actually Eyre Square. And the hotel is grey, not white, and isn’t as big in real life.

It is nice, though, but it does have one big drawback for a blogger. It doesn’t have Wi-Fi (God, listen to me. I actually sound as if I know what I’m talking about). In the welcome booklet in my room, there’s an A-Z of services the hotel provides, but there’s nothing under “I” for Internet (and for that matter there’s nothing under “C” for Compyoothur).

And that is THE ONLY REASON why I’m in the Porterhouse Bar at 11 am, drinking Galway Hooker Beer (couldn’t just use their internet without buying anything).

If you meet me tonight, not only will I be the one smelling of strawberry, I’ll be the one asleep in the corner.

The West Awaits

So, off to Galway this afternoon for the Irish Blog Awards.

I’m not going to win anything (this is not false modesty, I haven’t made the final of anything), but really I enjoyed last year, met a load of really nice people, and I’m looking forward to doing that again.

Since I’m leaving straight from work (yippee, half-day) I’ve had to bring a suitcase, so decided not to bring the backpack in which I normally keep my book, lunchbox, etc. Without a lunchbox I put my morning yogurt and banana (see, at least I have one a day) into my coat pocket. This was an excellent idea, since the only way it could possibly go wrong would be if, say, it was hot on the DART this morning so I took my coat off and draped it over the upright suitcase, and then, say, if the suitcase toppled over.

So I’ll be on the train to Galway at lunchtime slightly hungrier than usual, and with a pocket full of yogurt.

Anyway, I hope to meet some of you over the weekend (including you, Lone Woman, if you’re reading). I’ll be the one smelling slightly of strawberry.

Thank You, Someone

I’ve been nominated in the Best Personal Blog category in the Irish Blog Awards.

So have 118 other people, so it’s not exactly time to start planning an acceptance speech, but it’s still a nice feeling. Some of the people who I know read this are nominated too (hi, K8, Grandad, XBox), so congrats to all of you as well.

Last year I got nominated too (& also for Best Newcomer) and didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. I realised afterwards that this was rude to whoever had nominated me, so this time I really want to say thank you to whoever you are.

To my real astonishment I also got nominated for Best Blog Post, for this one about a day I just couldn’t go to work. It’s nice to see such craven laziness being rewarded.   

Really though, I’m amazed that a post that I wrote more than six months ago made such an impression on someone that they remembered it and suggested it. It makes me feel very proud, and very honoured. 

Thank you again.

So That Was That

If I’d thought of it, it would have been very quite a bit funny to start a series of posts called “Lost Weekend”, write the first one right up to the time when I went for my first drink, and then not write anything more.

blog-awardsI didn’t think of it, but effectively that’s what I’m doing, since I realise there’s not much sense in giving a blow by blow account of the Irish Blog Awards weekend. Those who were there know what happened, and can write about it much better than I can, and those who weren’t won’t be interested.

So all I will say is that

  • I had a fabulous time
  • The Awards event itself was brilliant, both professional and funny, and
  • I met a lot of people whose work I’ve admired, and made the not-very-surprising discovery that people who’s blogs I like turn out to be people I like.

One story, though. Ryanair’s insistence on just one piece of baggage meant that everything I brought went into my laptop backpack. Consequently it ended up the shape and weight of a Volkswagen Beetle and, as I got onto the Aircoach yesterday I turned to get into a seat and, using a technique perfected by a childhood of watching Laurel and Hardy, struck the man opposite in the face.

Who turned out to be Tingirl’s headmaster.

She might have a tough day at school today.

Lost Weekend Part 1: Friday

Ok, I’m here.

I got the Airport bus (the 747, clever, huh?), went through the obligatory patting-down that is the fate of the taint-of-heart, made my flight (yeah, yeah, carbon footprint, look the plane was coming here anyway), managed to find the hotel (yes, it does have a big green sign and yes, it is directly across the road from the airport, but this is me you’re dealing with), and now I’m in my room, making use of their lovely interweb.

Why am I here?

Dunno. From the time I started blogging, then heard there was an Irish Blog Awards, I thought “I’m going to that”. I booked in so early that I think I’m in the room they were keeping for Damien Mulley. I felt it would be a chance to meet other bloggers, and share hints, advice, and uproarious tales of the trials and tribulations of blogging.

But that so isn’t me.

It’s more likely that I’d sit quietly in the corner, saying nothing, or end up by mistake in a conversation with a group of Americans who are the only people in the hotel who aren’t here for the awards, and who can’t understand why I call myself “ThinMan”.

Thankfully the lovely Jo is coming, so I’ll be able to hang out of her apron strings, unless she gets palatic at the BloggerBirds’ Booze-Up Lady Bloggers’ Tea Party tomorrow afternoon.

And anyway, after the week I’ve just had, it’s great to be doing something different.

And I can cheer wildly for K8, and Lottie, and Xbox.

Best of luck, guys.