Skibbereens: The Perception Volume

By Mike O'Sullivan

The Perception Volume has 22 tales covering human perception in all usages of the word. The characters are larger than life, the events are sometimes silly and unexpected, and the underlying core can be philosophical if you want to think about it.

From tales fixed in the remote rural world of village life (or is it so remote?), to sport, New York, executive management and people management, Mike’s Irish take on life flows through a myriad of settings.

Almost all the tales are short and can be read in a few minutes on the bus to work or over a quick cup of coffee. They represent a bite out of a different way of seeing the world and aim to entertain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike O'Sullivan
• Release date: Jun 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310880216

Mike O'Sullivan

Mike is an Irish novelist and poet, married and living in Herefordshire England. He was born in Dublin and spent his school years in Cork. In primary school Mike needed to get by the eagle-eyed headmaster who looked hard at his long essays designed to hide the words he could not spell. This carried on further up the line when at UCD the Professor of English likened Mike to another who could not spell, George Bernard Shaw. But Mike made the connection, he did not have to be a genius at spelling. He moved to London in his twenties and has worked in a wide range of industries – music and cosmetics, in oil exploration, mining, insurance, catering, City Finance and Management Consultancy. Mike uses that experience in his novels. When he first arrived in London Mike fell in with a group of three other Irishmen debating the philosophical process of making a million or finding a job that was more like pleasure. Mike found the job, but it would take too long to explain his philosophy here. Mike says that in a sense he had a plan for life and so far it has been working out. His novels often start with an individual battling the system but without a plan of how he or she will cope. Mike believes that social systems and institutions are usually rigid when it comes to change or quick decisions and therefore the individual can become trapped. It takes effort, some courage and guile to walk out into the wider world of individual thinking. He shows that an individual can focus enough to even the odds and come out on top. He often uses humour and comedic situations to make his point leaving the reader to consider the underlying philosophy if they wish. A key element of Mike’s writing is the Irish skill of fast paced conversation as Mike’s overall aim is to entertain his readers.

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Skibbereens

Short philosophical or humorous sketches

Copyright © 2013 by Mike O’Sullivan

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

The right of Mike O’Sullivan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 and any subsequent amendments thereto.

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To find out more about Mike O’Sullivan,

his books and other works, visit www.mike-osullivan.com

Cover design copyright © Mike O’Sullivan

Skibbereens

The Perception Volume

By

Mike O’Sullivan

Contents

1 Truly Light

2 Red mists over Twickenham

3 Life to recall

4 Pension day dawns

5 Himself

6 The Gunfight

7 Finding space for culture

8 The Interview

9 The lemon who bought cool

10 Food for thought

11 Connect with yourself

12 Soulmate to a bender

13 Harry’s

14 The management

15 Foul

16 Brief encounter

17 Madness

18 Diversity and uniformity

19 The subcommittee debate

20 The writers circle

21 Village duck pond

22 If only for Pete’s sake

1 Truly Light

The village lay covered by daytime. Colour splattered green verges fronted by grey dry stone walls, trying to hide cosy stone cottages and camera windows which miss nothing out on the street. It is only different because night didn’t follow day. It was day that followed day.

All ‘Breaking News’ programmes went on standby. They asked the obvious question. First they taxed their own reporters who over the years had become studio deskbound experts, bright eyes, clean cut, million dollar smiles but little experience of the world outside of the internet café resources at the Rose and Crown. Their problem was the answer lay somewhere in the planetary system, and that was outside the studio. They hadn’t got answers, only smiles. News editors later traced some worrying looking academics who were hauled out in front of the cameras from their universities. They would be acutely aware that their reputations were on the line. This would have been the impression most people would have gained listening to the fudge and watching the arm action reaching up to the heavens. They could offer no explanation without consulting their telescopes. And it seemed they might find more comfort there than trying to answer the question.

But one man who was never short of answers waded in. Time to call in ‘amateurs.’ We needed a Patrick Moore type. Someone who never let one word out without attaching to it an explanation of the entire universe. Someone who wasn’t slow to fill the vacuum. His words, as might be expected from an enthusiastic convert to moon gazing, were able to hold the nation through a deluge of movement in words, the bulk of facial expression and mighty intent being as genuine as a man could be without coming up with an answer. And his words like a waterfall cascading torrents of reconstituted rubbish which others take into their heads, bubbled packaged water drops run into each other with such force they crash through the system which holds our reason. Then after that face after face passed across the television screens all day with open mouths and unbelieving eyes. Day follows day wasn’t in the script.

After many hours of insane theory being shipped out both institutional and individual one lone voice struck a cord. It was the sort of cord which opens the curtains wide to show you the world as it is outside. It was a sensible if not a simple solution to the torrid question and one which was to change everyone’s view without changing anything else.

Simply stated it was that we now assume that day follows day as hour follows hour. We immediately saw the light. In fact we will always see the light because from now on there will only be light.

2 Red Mists over Twickenham

As you stand there alone three feet in front of the posts at Twickenham on a cold winter Saturday in January your eyes and those of the 80,000 spectators are looking towards the heavens. The ball has been kicked up in the air by the opposing side. They call the kick a Garryowen. The ball is still climbing. Television viewers around the world would have mixed emotions. Some of them hope you’ll be blinded by the sun. But there’s no sun. It is one of those foggy days in London town where birds you can’t see twitter away unconcerned that the next few seconds are critical to your survival. Your supporters hope you’ll be brave and clever enough to catch the ball when it eventually comes down out of the clouds, dodge the opposing herd of buffalos who you can hear because they are causing an earthquake, race up the other side of the pitch and score a try. They have no doubt you