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Watching cartoons the other night, I heard someone say to a schoolgirl “Welcome to the glamorous world of unpaid internships,” or words to that effect, before the glamorous world of exploitation and skivvydom was portrayed in primary colours. I don’t recall receiving such good career advice when I was in school. My generation had to figure out for itself that unpaid work is just slavery no matter how “glamorous” or “creative” the industry.

Sadly, many never did figure that out, possibly because their parents were rich enough to support them in their charity work for large corporations. It’s hard to feel like a slave when you get a car for your eighteenth birthday, or your own key marketing account.

“Translation is the performative nature of cultural communication. It is language in actu (enunciation, positionality) rather than language in situ (énoncé, or propositionality). And the sign of translation continually tells, or ‘tolls’ the different times and spaces between cultural authority and its performative practices.” (Homi Bhabha, The Location of Culture)

Stirring stuff, eh? A ringing clarion call to scholars of translation everywhere. So much so that no less than three different contributors to Translation Translation, (ed. Susan Petrilli) quoted at least one of those two sentences.

A danger with living abroad too long - and one I have failed to avoid - is to start thinking the second country, in my case Poland, is uniquely rubbish. A return to the mothership reassures you that it’s not just Poland - everything is shit.

I had thought, for example, that Polish advertisers were particularly egregious (”Annual percentage rate 0 - 15%”) but not a bit of it. (I should, in any case, have realised they hadn’t thought up their lies on their own, without guidance from their Western masters.) Take this stunningly generous special offer from an Irish mobile phone company: free calls and texts - for life! Written immediately below the headline offer, and not even hidden in small print, are words to the effect that you have to top up your account by 20 euros a month. On a second glance I noticed that the “free” calls can be made only to other customers of the same company.

As usual, the Simpsons put it more pithily: Homer dons his freshly fabric-softened cap and says “I really can feel three different kinds of freshness.”

Back in Dublin again. While I was away the LUAS trams mysteriously filled up to standing room only. The antiseptic pre-recorded voice announcing the stops has, as a result, more to say for herself: “Beware of pickpockets,” for example. “Move away from the doors.” “For your safety [three syllables] hold on to the yellow bars.” The thing about the trams is, though, that once you move away from the doors, down in to the body of the tram, there are no yellow bars to hold on to for your own comfort and safety.

Not having Polish children, this was something I only noticed very lately. Schoolchildren are entitled to reduced fares on Polish trains - on condition that they have their school ID cards with them. Education is compulsory in Poland.