Excuse the podcrastination

LOOK I've been busy alright? It's not like my usual blogging hiatuses which stem from unadulterated sloth and indifference. No, no I've been working on something special for all of you folks, a Christmas present if you will.

As far as I can tell, there are very few Irish-based podcasts. Now, when I say podcasts, I'm not referrring to radio stations putting clips from their shows online for people to download. In the truest sense of the word that ain't a podcast.

For a purist such as myself, a podcast is a show recorded with the main purpose of being published online as opposed to on the radio. Podcasts tend to be a lot looser and less censored than radio shows and, from this enthusiast's point of view, a much more enjoyable listen than most of the fare that takes up the traditional airwaves with the faux-friendliness between presenters, questionable music choices and the increasing presence of advertising.

Whatever about Irish podcasts, I'm almost certain that there aren't any Limerick-based podcasts and with that in mind, myself and an old friend fancy ourselves as a pair of trailblazers.

We're still in our very early days yet (just one episode online and still baffled as to how to get it on to itunes) but we're full of enthusiasm and unfounded opinions so expect many more installments to come.

In the meantime give a listen to the inaugural episode of Hoge 'n' Smith (A podcrastination on all matters nonsensical) at www.hogensmith.com and tell us what you think.

The Squirrel

I'M being bullied by a squirrel

Every morning as I sit at my laptop checking out the news from home, the little fecker just pops up on to his perch at exactly my eye level, chewing on a nut, judging me.

"No work today Hoge?"

"Buzz off squirrel, I'm legally prevented from working. You know that."

"O that's right. Your girlfriend is able to work though isn't she?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Nothing at all, I'm just conversing. You know us squirrels, we're chatty sorts. So What's it like being a kept man?"

"Listen you little shit, I've told you before that this is a temporary arrangement until I get my new work visa."

"You mean if you get your new work visa."

"Whatever."

"So what's on the schedule today? Think you might become real ambitious and get out of those pajama pants?"

"There's no need for that sort of wise-crackery, I'm keeping myself occupied with my reading and I've been doing some writing. Plus the pants are comfy."

"Sure, sure. How much are you getting paid for your reading and writing these days out of curiosity?"

"We've got a cat in here you know, she could climb up that tree and chow down on you at a second's notice."

"I've seen the cat Hoge. It's questionable if she'd be able to get up this tree and even then I would say she'd need a weeks notice in writing."

"Look just leave me alone, it's early in the morning, I'm in no mood for this."

"Early in the morning? It's 10am, not so long ago you were half way through your work day at this point. How the mighty have fallen."

"You should have seen me in college. This is actually only a minor relapse."

"Well I'm sick and tired of looking at your depressing, lazy ass. Some of us have jobs to go to, those electrical wires aren't going to chew themselves."

"Do you really have to go Squirrel? I'm bored."

"I can see that Hoge, but I'm afraid so. See you tomorrow morning."

"See you Squirrel."

The visa situation

OKAY, where was I? Oh that's right, I was going to explain my rapid descent from being an up and coming, shit-hot reporter (in my eyes at least) to potential illegal immigrant.

Like many people my age in Ireland at the moment, I decided to sample the weather, wares and ultimately one of the women of a foreign land this time last year. Canada seemed like as good a place as any to try so I got myself a one year working visa.

Although that did involve dealing with the dishonest, incompetent and evil folks at USIT, it was a relatively easy task to get the visa. Getting a second one however, is an entirely different kettle of fish.

You see, Canada is fine with letting you in to enjoy the hockey, the skiing and the poutine for one year. But after that you really have to show your worth or Canada will dump you like the drag-arse boyfriend you truly are.

In short, you have to prove to the Canadian government that you are not robbing another Canadian of a job if you want the country to grant you an extension of your visa. This requires being qualified and quite capable in your field of employment, or at the very least having an employer who is both keen on you and well-versed in the ways of bovine excrement.

Landscaping, as it turns out, is one of the hardest professions in which to get yourself sponsored by an employer for a visa extension. Not surprising really, it would be hard to convince even the most gullible of immigration officers that my lawn-mowing prowess is without equal throughout Canada.

And seen as I had no luck in getting work elsewhere, I thought I was destined to be forced to leave the country, leaving a nice lifestyle and a devastated girlfriend behind. That was until I heard from a fellow Irish immigrant in a pub late on night that apparently the goalposts had moved somewhat in the year that I had spent here.

"You shheee, de goidelines have schanged Howgy," my inebriated Dublin-born informant told me.

He went on to point out that while most recipients of my visa can never again be granted that kind of visa again, there are exceptions. Up until this year, those exceptions were applicants from the UK and Australia, but close examination of the Foreign Worker Guidelines showed that indeed Ireland had been added to the list. The jackeen was right.

So three days before my first one year visa lapsed, I submitted an application for a second one. I was told by a worker in an immigration office that while my application is being processed I have "implied status" meaning I can stay in Canada but can't work. She didn't seem certain though so I won't be going on any more shopping trips to the States until I'm certain that I would be allowed back in when the time came to return to Vancouver.

At this stage, I don't have a clue what to expect. It does state clearly on my visa that I cannot be granted a second one but that was before the change in regulations. Then again, I'm wondering if the new law only applies to applicants who were granted their first visa after this change was made.

Life is a little purgatorial at the moment since I am jobless, on limited funds and have an uncertain status but at almost half way through the 60-day processing time on my application I'm staying positive.

If, however, another big gap in correspondence occurs in about a month's time it may not necessarily be because of another bout of apathy on my part. I may have just gone underground following my rejection by Canada. The descent continues.

A Happy Hoge

O GOD I really am in quite a lot of pain. We played a bruising, muddy, bloody semi-final today against the University of British Columbia, one of the two teams that had managed to beat us in this season's league stages.

And while it never feels too delightful to have your back look like a crossword that's been filled in with a blood-red biro, it certainly feels all the better right now, knowing that we won the game and can look forward to a league final in a few weeks time. Having a bucketful of liquor in me at this stage also helps with the pain.

In a way, today's result was almost predicable in its sweetness. It's a happy Hoge you find writing to you this evening/morning folks. Don't get me wrong; I derive about as much fun from my current landscaping career as I would from an unanesthetised castration with a rusty scissors but life for me at the moment is undoubtedly good.

For the first time in a few years I'm starting for a rugby team, and while I've managed to hold on to my knack for throwing lineouts with the accuracy of a blind baboon, I'm actually playing well for the most part.

After a fortnight of heavy snowfall, the ski slopes can now be seen snaking their way down the mountains surrounding Vancouver. I've also spent a good share of my wages on a snow board and other gear so it shouldn't be too long before I'm making a complete tit of myself by travelling exclusively on my arse down a few of said slopes. I can't wait.

I have another reason for being happy too but it would be remiss of me to say anything more at this point than I have encountered a member of the fairer sex who can stand more than a few consecutive minutes of my company and who has had me smiling more often than not lately.

Happy people make for boring writers, I reckon, so you'll have to excuse me if this posting comes across as a little dull. Hopefully I'll have something to be bitter about again soon.