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Yes, the basic service is.
I have used it to convert PDF files without charge. It does offer a load of other services that I never bothered to look up, but from the sound of it, some of the conversions that are offered will incur a fee. [It offers conversion between loads of formats besides .pdf to .doc.]

You will find a fairly useful converter at www.zamzar.com.
It's fairly simple to use the program and the interface you're presented with is a three part process.
Locate the PDF file you want converted. Clck the format you want to convert your file to ans then okay\y the conversion.
Zamzar will then send you a link, via email, to let you know when the converted file is ready for download.
If things are busy on the zamzar server, it may take a while before the email arrives.
I find it satisfactory, which means it is not without fault; problems can arise if the PDF file you are using was created from an already complex file. It can make a donkey's haemes out of textboxes that were originally created in Word.
But it will do a reasonably good job on a straightforward PDF file.

Lads,

Earlier in the year I posted up files I had done on the c'ship records in Mayo since the 80's. That work goes back to 1975 now, though the '75-76 Intermediates aren't fully complete, and there are some loose ends in the Junior file, which is back to '78, and covers mainly the divisional finals or semis onwards, all are on the links below:

http://rapidshare.com/files/168653126/Mayo_SFC_History.doc
http://rapidshare.com/files/168653127/Mayo_IFC_History.doc
http://rapidshare.com/files/168653129/Mayo_JFC_History.doc

Thanks very much.
That's one hell of a job you've done!

"Ojous" is a great Cavan expression for anything that is nasty or unpleasant.
"Thon's an ojous wet day," for example.
I suppose most counties have their own unique sayings but I think Donegal tops the lot – I have had to have more expressions deciphered for me form that county than from anywhere else.
Was anyone here ever described as being, "carnaptious?" (Pardon my spelling.)
Like a good (drunk) friend said to me once.
"Howl on, I'm not being carnaptious, I'm just cloustering about the noise thon scatter of bairns is making."
I think in translation he meant that he wasn't being 'wile thick' about the amount of noise a nearby group of children was making but it did annoy him somewhat.
The same man gave me his personal assessment of something or other, once upon a time.
"I wouldn't give the full of me arse of burnt snow for the whole damned lot."

  Usually, I am most reluctant to get involved in 'discussions' such as this one; I much prefer to lurk and watch the cyber sparks fly.
However, there are a couple of observations I'd like to make at this point that may be of interest to the main protagonists involved.
With Tonto's leave, I'd like to comment on something he wrote some days ago:

I mean, what is so wrong with being part of the UK as an equal citizen?

Face it, the days when a nationalist could rightly point to discrimination are gone and soon enough nationalist sentiment with ebb away with it as more and more people begin to realise that life ain't so bad. 

Believe me when I say most people in the RoI would be quite happy if everyone north of the border suddenly decided that being treated as equal citizens within the UK was not such a bad idea after all.
As long as their co-coreligionists were treated as second class citizens in their land of birth, a very high percentage of southerners backed the drive for civil rights and what was to become 'Parity of Esteem.'
Once the GFA kicked in and more especially since the latest Stormont executive started to function, southern sentiment has undergone a marked change.
I think it eminently fair to say that the average person down here in the south feels that he or she has enough to contend with, without saddling ourselves with the problems of Northern Ireland.
When we look north and find that interminable bickering and squabbling is still going on, it's hard to get enthusiastic at the thought of any sort of closer contact with that incorrigible shower of squabblers. 
Our own society has undergone so much radical change in the last decade that we are finding it hard to adjust ourselves to the realities of life around us.  Do we want to be saddles with someone else's problems also?  I think the answer here is obvious.
I'm not necessarily giving any sort of personal opinion here but if I could carry out a quick vox pop at my neighbourhood supermarket or in my local pub I'd be pretty confident of the outcome before I started to ask pertinent questions.
I feel I can put Tonto's mind at rest on this matter:

Especially compared to the potential for political violence, social upheaval and disastrous financial consequences if the RoI were ever to try and take on NI.

Relax, Tonto, this is most unlikely to be done, on a voluntary basis anyway, in our lifetimes! Remember that I am not being unnecessarily antagonistic or offensive toward anyone, Taig or Prod, north of the border when I write this. It's just that we tend not to get as worked up with acronyms as you good northern folk do. When we get bombarded with mention of UI and GFA and GSTQ, not to mention PIRA or UUU, we tend to come up with an acronym of our own; FU2!

Is there anything in the general catholic faith about it, or is it specific to Ireland.
If so how where Irish priests able to do this?

You could put it down to the respect and fear in which the (Catholic) people held their clergy. For many generations, up to very recent times, the priest was put on a pedestal, if you know what I mean, and his word was law everywhere.
That's putting matters simply, I know but nevertheless it is pretty true.
There were several reasons of a historical nature for this state of affairs.
Down through the 1800s the vast majority of southern Irish people lived a life of abject poverty. Most of the land was owned by landlords and most of the f**king landlords were absentees.
They lived wanted to be where the action was; London or at the very least, Dublin.
Agents were appointed to collect rents and to generally keep the estates in order.
Those feckers passed on the landlord's dues and also tried to screw as much from the poor tenants as they could.
Many priests became leaders of their people and tried to put their cases to whoever was in a position to do anything about their lot.
For one thing, the priest was most likely the only Catholic in the village or town who could read or write and also many of them had studies and were ordained in France, where they came under the influence of republican and anti-establishment thinking.
For whatever the reasons, and they were many and varied, the priest was held in awe and esteem by most of the poor, ordinary people. Many would have held that he had powers above the ordinary and could, and often did, take on Old Nick as well as the hoor of a land agent and knock spots off the lot of them!
Some priests were quite comfortable with the idea that they were supermen and did nothing to tone down parishioners' fear and respect for them.
Most onlookers of the times I refer to would regard Irish tenantry as priest-ridden and idolatrous and maybe they were but it this was not by their own will.
In Ulster and in England also, the landlord/ tenant system prevailed but in both places they spoke the same language and practised the same religion. If the majority of southern Irish people were semi-savage and illiterate it was because the political and economic systems kept them so. IN all of this, the priest came to be regarded as a champion of the people and the stories about them abounded and grew with each subsequent telling.
IN the late 50s and early 60s I can recall elderly people telling me stories about how some priest or another got the better of the devil in a fight for someone's soul and even as a young kid, I knew the storyteller believed the stories to be true.
BTW; I wouldn't laugh too much at the innocence of those poor, simple souls; we are never too far removed from their levels of superstition and their belief in the paranormal happenings.
Anyone remember 1985?
Ireland was in a deep recession then and emigration levels were at an all- time high. To cap it all we were having the wettest summer on record.
Suddenly statues began to move!
There was great craic for months as tens of thousands of people claimed to have seen statues of the Blessed Virgin moving from their pedestals and whizzing about the place.
It all started off in Ballinspittal in Co. Cork and then it seems other statues got jealous and wanted a cut off the action too. Soon, there were at least a dozen statues drawing crowds for their reported powers of self-propulsion.
Gradually, things settled down and the statues lost their hold on the minds of the masses but not before half the country swore the end of the world had arrived!
Remember that this occurred in 1985; back in the days when people were less well-educated and more gullible, it must have been commonplace to ascribe any sort of unexpected happening to the influence of the devil at work or to the powers of the local padre for that matter.

Tyrone bury mort in the net and Mayo look at them and walk away, not one man among the lot of them said a word.
Kenny mortimer would have repaid the deed but nobody bothers today and we are seen as soft for it.
JOM had better put some fire into Mayo very soon or let somebody else do it for him.

Too bloody true!
Remember the last game against Kerry? Mac had gone into that game carrying an injury, far as I can recall.
Anyway, the first time he got possession he was tackled by four or five Kerry lads and took a fair amount of pummelling and pushing. He was dispossessed and not a single Mayo player came to his rescue.
Conor Mort, probably the smallest and lightest on the field, did arrive late on the scene and he floored one of them with a sliding tackle. (Dara O Se?). I just can’t recall off the top of my head but it was disheartening to see Mac being roughed up when he couldn’t defend himself and only Conor reacted.
The abuse Mort himself got in the Tyrone game was unreal. Neither the ref nor his own team mates deserve any credit for doing nothing about it.
I’m none too impressed with O’Mahony’s efforts to date but he can’t be blamed for everything that goes on out on the field. I doubt if I have ever seen a Mayo team as devoid of determination and bottle as I’ve seen this year.
[The last few years weren’t too impressive either but this year was something else!]

" The batsman's Holding, the bowler's Willey "
Attributed to Peter Ratcliffe, the BBC sports commentator who was known for his double meaning  comments.

I'm surprised that no one has mentioned Oscar Wilde so far.
Here are a few of his better known observations:

A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies.

All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his.

A man's face is his autobiography. A woman's face is her work of fiction.

America is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between.

Anybody can be good in the country. There are no temptations there.

I used to work for Bertie many years ago, before he became Taoiseach. (I just couldn't stick most of the Drumcondra mafia so I jumped ship.)
No problem with drinking with him. Kennedy's, Fagan's, Tolka House, Beaumont House; the list was quite long and varied as it wouldn't do to give the impression that anyone in the entourage was fond of the stuff or called to the same shop too often.
I went to school with Enda and have remained good boozing buddies with him since.
The eve of a Connacht final in Castlebar was very much a ritual for years; six or seven of us from the same time in Pat's Drumcondr,a would find a corner in a Castlebar pub that tolerated late drinking and off-key singing.
We were spoilt for choice.
BTW; Enda, when off-stage, is great craic entirely and far more of a gas man than you'd ever guess from his public appearances.
It never bothered either that I had a foot in the enemy camp or would pass on the odd informal message from one to the other. (It did bother some of the meat heads around Bertie but I didn't let anything they thought ever bother me.)
I wouldn't consider either to be exactly famous but it would have been somewhat unusual to be a drinking buddy with both at the same time.
Really famous person?
I had a good , long chat with Mohammed Ali the time he fought in Croke Park.

I wouldn't like having to bet the house on it, one way or the other.
The 7th son of a 7th son business does seem to have some substance; I knew one of them years ago- we went to school together. This lad had the cure for migraine attacks. At least some of the priest of the college we went to believed he had. There were other things he could do as well, such as electrocuting earthworms that were dropped onto his open hand.
On the other hand, a lot of 'cures' seem to the result of autosuggestion; just tricks of the mind.
I taught in a school in Finglas for years. The place had a high intake of Traveller kids.
One Friday for a bit of a laugh, one of my colleagues pretended he had the cure for warts and decided t work his 'cure' on a young fella who was plastered with them.
So, he told the lad to close his eyes while he mumbled some mumbo jumbo and stroked the back of his hand, warts and all, at the same time.
Having done that, he told the kid to open his eyes and he made the sign of the cross and dismissed one happy young lad with his blessing and his promise that the warts would disappear if the lad was a good boy and helped his mammy over the weekend.
The mate thought it was great gas until Monday morning arrived and the lad's mammy and her aunt were there, waiting to see him.
It turned out that the child's warts had disappeared and both of the ladies were looking for cures of their own! The upshot was, that for the rest of his time as a teacher, he got steady custom from the Travelling confraternity who swore he had the cure to bate all cures! 

I really am perplexed at the fuss about "Ireland's Call" and the political nuances that are being read into it her eon this thread.
It is not, nor was it ever meant to be, a classical piece of musical virtuosity; whatever that damn word means. It's purely and simply an excuse to raise the adrenalin levels, to bond the team and supporters together and to hurl defiance at the other tribe and their warriors- and such carry has been there since the beginning of time.
Anyone who'd call for the likes of "Danny Boy" or, say, "My Lagan Love" before a game in Landsdowne should seriously consider looking for counselling.
It's all about thumping to a simple beat, swaying in unison with the team and screaming to intimidate the invaders.
That's about as basic as it gets and I doubt if any Irish supporter, North or South, gives a damn when the time comes to stand up and "welcome" th other side.
The All Blacks use the Haka for the very same reason and the Political Correctists amongst us are known to object to the fact that an aboriginal custom is being parodied by the ruling white classes.
Maybe it is indeed but when the time is ticking down to the kick off I doubt if any one of any colour or background in New Zealand is concerned at the PC element at all.
Doesn't the very same thing occur in Croker?
I doubt if very many would consider the words or the martial air to be in sync with PC sentiments today but what happens when the last few bars of the song is reached?
Both sides will adopt the song as their own and rise with a roar to their feet, blocking out the words of poor ol' A na bFh and no one gives a damn about political improprieties as each side tries to gee up its own team and intimidate the other side and its followers.
When you see players from both traditions on this island bonded together , with tears streaming down their faces and them all giving welly to the words of Ireland's Call, it a blood stirring occasion for me and I wouldn't be too worried if "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep" was the ditty being used as long as the adrenalin starts pumping.
BTW; just giving a nod to political conventions here; on occasions when the Irish rugby team played at Ravenhill, as happened often in pre-WW2 days, GTSQ was the Anthem used by the IRFU.

I never came across that before, Fear, though I was born and reared a few miles from Curragha (or Curroghá, as it's rendered here) and Curragha GFC is amalgamated my own old club for under-age.   John McDermott played his first football with Curragha - a man in the Páid O'Donoghue mould, I'm sure Tyrone people will agree and I'm waiting now for the first of the posts to point out that Páid O'Donoghue wouldn't be the last Meathman to hit a fella between the two eyes and brain him.

Thanks for that.

I'm somewhat surprised, Hardy, that you were not familiar with the recitation about Paid O'Donoghue's exploits.  I used to drink (quite) a lot in Patsy Swann's pub once upon a time and raised my glass to Paid's memory once or twice!
The old boys of the locality knew the recitation and could yap for hours (or as long as I was buying) about the goins' on of '98 and any other time I'd care to mention. I'm not saying Patsy, mine host of The Forge Bar, was a noted antiquarian or anything like that, but he could be relied on to chip in his tuppence worth as the craic got better.
When the fire was lit of a could winter's evening, it took little persuasion to get any Christian to tarry there.
No one knew for certain where the woods of 'dark Kilbrue' were.
Several of the old boys I used to meet up with thought it was a mile or so from Swann's bar on the Ratoath road. I think it was called the Commons, but it's over 25 years since I last drank there so my memory isn't what it used to be.
I don't think I ever heard the one about Preston, the distiller either. I heard assloads of tales about '98 in general and the scrap at Tara okay but no one ever mentioned that to me, far as I know.

''I heard EG was on a 2 week ban, which ends today.''


He was logged in earlier HH so seems your in the know.

Its no secret the ban related to me. Thats why I will avoid him on his return.

Come on, HH, the curiosity is killing me!
What was the spat between you and EG about?
Somehow, I cannot picture either of you losing the rag sufficiently to merit a rebuke from the mods for any reason. So what did cause the row between the pair of you?

Good luck to all concerned, Billy.
Every day brings fresh hope.
Miceal is indeed very premature but I honestly have heard of other equally early arrivals who survived.
Please God he will do the same.