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The only certainty is uncertainty

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By Michael O’Connor   

"History is just one damn thing after another" - Arnold Toynbee

Late last week, the emergence of a new COVID-19 variant in South Africa sent shockwaves worldwide, upending what had been a reasonably quiet week for the stock market. On Friday last, a steep sell-off left the S&P 500 and the Nasdaq down 2.2% and 3.5%, respectively.

This 147th twist in the pandemic tale got me thinking about how much we think we know when really, we know nothing at all.

At the start of the year nobody would have predicted that 2020 would have played out the way it did. Very few would have predicted that 2021, with promising vaccines and a return to normality would have represented so little change, but here we are.

Everyone loves to pretend like they fully understand what this all means and what will happen next. I get it; who doesn’t love the warm cozy allure of certainty. We all want to exist in a world where we know what lies around the corner.

History is a perpetual stream of mistaken opinions and unpredictable outcomes, but the predictions won’t stop. People will cast their views with deluded certainty about what to expect next by extrapolating the current conditions out into the future, but the current conditions aren’t a constant, and the game is always changing.

Unfortunately, the reality is, nobody knows what’s next, and the sooner you can discard any naive sense of conviction, the easier it will be in both life and investing. While this statement may seem morbid on the surface, loosening our grip on our need for certainty can be liberating.

Remember, while it is important to have expectations and predictions, predictions are not fact, and you will be wrong. Not always, but you will be wrong, so try not to be overly tethered to your current version of the truth.

Lean into the uncertainty

Accepting that nothing is certain can often be cast as an impotent statement in a world obsessed with knowing all the answers.

In an industry where uncertainty is the ultimate enemy, telling investors to submit to it is often met with disdain, but accepting the inevitability of uncertainty is so important if you want to avoid going stir crazy as you try and hold for the long term.

Of course, discarding uncertainty is easier said than done. Worrying about factors beyond our control is an inherent part of the human condition. However, simply being aware that the game is not predictable and nobody truly knows the final outcome may help you reduce your craving for certainty.

My advice

Stop reaching for perfection in a world of constant uncertainty. Stop obsessing about making the right decision one hundred percent of the time. Even the best investors in history have had their fair share of howlers. Ultimately you just need to be right more often than you are wrong.

The solution

Create an investment portfolio centred around what you believe to be the most probable outcome based on available information and incorporate enough diversification to function as a buffer.

In a world where anything is possible, all you can do is focus on what is most probable, allow for a margin of error to support you when your assumed outcomes don’t play out and simply let go of the rest.

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New summer film festival launches at Anam Centre

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New summer film festival launches at Anam Centre


A new summer film festival has been launched at the Anam Cultural Centre in Killarney, featuring a series of works by local filmmaker Charlie O’Brien. The week-long event, titled Anam Echoes, runs from Sunday July 12 to Friday July 17.


The programme brings together documentaries, traditional music, and guest conversations, with a recurring thread of Irish connections to Latin America running through the week.
The festival opens on July 12 and July 13 with a screening of The Green Fields of Cuba, followed by a live concert with Argentine uilleann piper Pamela Schweblin. On July 14, the venue will screen The Trackless Wild, Song of a Wandering Tip, a documentary exploring the legacy of a 19th-century Irish ballad writer in Argentina, followed by a director’s Q&A.
On July 15, doors open at 8:30pm for a short portrait of the late fiddle player Eamon Flynn titled A Trip to Mountcollins, which will be followed by a traditional music session with Tim Browne and Charlie O’Brien. Musicians gain free entry to this session.
On July 16, in collaboration with the Kerry International Film Festival, there will be a screening of The Killarney Echo alongside a panel discussion on film production, costume, and sound with costume supervisor Ciara O’Connor, sound engineer Tony O’Flaherty, and Charlie O’Brien.
The series concludes on July 17 with A Captain Unafraid, a film charting the life of 19th-century sailor and rebel Johnny O’Brien, followed by a final director’s Q&A.

Doors open at 7:30pm each night, and tickets can be booked at charlieobrien.net/anam-echoes-film-series.

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Felicity’s Summer in Killarney — Chapter 3

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Felicity’s Summer in Killarney — Chapter 3




A new weekly series from Killarney Advertiser’s Jess Jukes


Jess Jukes, a member of the advertising department at the Killarney Advertiser, is also a budding writer. Each week, we will bring you her serialized novella following the adventures of Felicity’s summer in Killarney.



Felicity messaged Jack the following morning.

Hi, I hope you’re feeling better. I heard there was a woman with a new ice cream truck up in Tiernaboul. Do you want to go get your Dad’s ice cream truck back?
She made her toast and sat. Jack messaged back before she had finished her tea.

I’ll meet you at Daly’s, we can walk up together.
Felicity set out for the shop not long after. A dreary sky hung above her, a complete contrast to the day before. It wasn’t long before Jack came around the corner. He was no longer in his ice cream uniform, but in casual jeans and a flannel. He parked his bicycle and leant against the wall next to her.
“What’s this about my Da’s truck being up Tiernaboul?”

Felicity pushed off the wall. “I’ll tell you on our way up.” She told him everything. Jack mentioned how his Da had been quiet and sad when he and Auntie Sheila called to tell him about truck being stolen. He had been subdued still when he had picked Jack up and they went to the garda station to report the theft.

The two trailed through each and every estate, looking for the distinctive bright colours of the ice cream truck. They had been walking for a good half hour when they finally found it.

Jack came to a stop. “Well, you were right about the truck … but why did the woman steal it in the first place?”

That was the question. “Come on, let’s go round the corner and call the gardaí before anyone realises they’ve left the keys outside.”

Felicity and Jack backtracked quickly, and Felicity called in an anonymous tip to the garda station. She put on a nasally voice, saying, “I saw an ice cream truck parked in the driveway of my neighbour, and now I know her I do, and she doesn’t own an ice cream truck. She doesn’t have any permit for that, and I don’t want her trawling up and down the street at all hours trying to sell merchandise without a licence.”
She continued her ramble until the poor sergeant on the other end of the phone sighed in resignation. He promised to send somebody up to investigate and Felicity hung up, triumphant.

Jack was almost crying with laugher. “Jeez Felicity, you should audition for the Four Esquires.”

It wasn’t long before she joined in his laughter. When they heard the garda car approaching, Felicity and Jack watched until the garda knocked on the door of the house. Only then they started back towards home, assured that the truck would be recognised.

Celebration
Sure enough, Jack’s Da Trevor had been delighted to get his ice cream truck back. He had been thankful to Auntie Sheila and Felicity for helping Jack when the truck was first stolen, and insisted on going out for a meal to celebrate its swift return.

The group found themselves in The Laurels, food in front of them, laughter and drinks flowing. Auntie Sheila was discussing the upcoming festival over the weekend with Jack’s mother, and Trevor was telling Jack the story of how he first brought his ice cream truck for what must be the millionth time.

Felicity found herself watching on with a content feeling. Not much better than a full stomach and good company.

As she was looking around the bar lazily, the girl paused. On the wall there was a framed Killarney Advertiser clipping. She got up and wandered over to for a better look.

There was an old man sitting at the bar underneath the clipping, a pint in hand. “You see the group that went up Carrauntoohil for charity last month? The lady in the middle, the one in yellow, she’s the daughter of the fella behind the bar.”

Depicted next to the article was in fact a group photograph full of people. ‘Walking Society Supports Charity atop Our Tallest Peak’ was splayed across the paper in bold lettering.

“Hm .. I’ve never seen it, Carrauntoohil.”

The man barked a laugh. “Course you have! You’re looking at the ‘Reeks all the time, aren’t ya lass? Nearly everything over the lake are the Reeks.”

Felicity turned towards him fully. “People go up it often then?”

The old man laughed again. “Nearly every day I’d wager. People go up in the sun and the rain, even when they shouldn’t. You know …” he leaned in closer as if to share a secret, “people die, up on that there mountain, every year. You gotta respect the mountains. They were here before we were, and they’ll be here long after we’re gone.” He coughed, and took a sip of his pint.

They spoke idly about the good food and the live musicians that were setting up. As the first notes of music began to waft on the air, Felicity bid the old man farewell and returned to her party.

Auntie Sheila moved over to free up Felicity’s seat again as she returned. “You met Seamus then?” she giggled, tipsy. “ He’s a dote, no one sweeter, I swear. You know, he’s been a regular in this bar ever since your mother and I were your age. Hasn’t changed a bit.” She hiccupped, and both Sheila and Jack’s mother started giggling.

Felicity ignored the women, now leaning on each other and saying things in funny voices whilst Trevor looked on with a smile on his face.

“Jack?” she asked conspiratorially. He turned to her, humming to show she had his attention. “Do you like mountains?”

Tune in next week to see what happens next

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