Scarlett O’Hara…Eat Your Heart Out

It felt as if I was on a film set at the wedding of my beautiful daughter, Roisin last weekend. She married Jack at Renvyle House in Connemara (actually we had raced across the country to Bray the day before for the formal ‘I do’ bit). But at Renvyle they both said their personal vows with the Atlantic Ocean bubbling at their back, and the yellow sun and white wind swishing around Roisin’s veil. All the guests were seated on white chairs on a lawn of green. The sky was a fabulous mix of colours though for me all was a little blurred as I could not stop weeping. I don’t why because it was all perfect. Are these tears of joy, Ruthie asked? I was startled. She must be right, because I did feel really happy, but how strange that such sobbing could reflect such joy. Anyhow, I was able to pull myself together (thereby missing the photo in which everyone was included) and enjoy myself for the rest of the weekend without a tear in sight.

It was wonderful to have my best friends (the godparents) present, and to be a part of the dressing up with the six beautiful bridesmaids in the library where we cavorted around in pyjamas specially bought by Roisin, putting on make up, blow drying hair, taking photos, eating breakfast, and drinking champagne…maybe that’s a clue as to why the tears started to well up. But, to be fair, I was crying when I was walking down the hotel corridor (I did 20,000 steps along those corridors last weekend!).

Majella, Annemarie and Ben (hotel staff) planned, chivvied, and organised. They ran a personal lift service to Tully Cross whenever people needed to get to bed or to the hotel and responded positively and happily to any query or request. It was like having Mary Poppins at our backs. You should have seen the array of jumpers, jackets, purses and ties they laid out in reception each morning after the night before. And I have to mention Monsieur, the manager of the restaurant. When I proudly announced at breakfast that I was Mother of the Bride when he asked for my room number (not remembered by me), he looked at me directly and responded with, ‘Well, I am the Restaurant Manager.’

All the guests swam noisily in the ocean each morning. Only my Roisin Dubh could get so many people to flail around so happily in the cold sea, cavorting like seals. The photographs don’t do it justice. The activities were fabulous. There were guided walks, volleyball was played in the pool, croquet on the lawn, and lots and lots of chats and laughter. There was music and singing in the evening, not to mention dancing. It was also lovely to have Poppins and Alfie in the mix…though not so sure Joe agreed…he was the person on dog duty.

After, Roisin and Jack headed off to Inis Boffin for a break. I came home to Labasheeda with besties Ruth, Maria and Malcom to look after grand daughter Aine for a few days. It took three grannies to change a nappy on the beach in Kilkee…far too occupied for photos!!!

So here I am…the first morning in ten where I don’t have a plan…things to do…or a baby (neither a big nor little one) to think about. Here are a few photos of the week that was and what a wonderful week it was. Oh God….I feel my eyes welling up.

The besties in Labasheeda

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New Friends and Relations in Labasheeda

We have moved into Labasheeda, West Clare and already made friends: Milly, Molly, Mandy, and Maisie. These are the names I have given the murder of crows that guard our local dominion. Ciaran, Connor, and Cian live across the road in the trees lining the Estuary. In the morning, I stand on my bedroom balcony and sing my good mornings to them. There is much too-ing and fro-ing, cackles, and caws, which makes the garden seem a busy place though in the afternoons, they seem to enjoy siestas and it is very peaceful.

The folk in Labasheeda are also very friendly and we have been heartily welcomed by everyone we meet. (I’m not sure the cat next door feels the same about us as she has been already chased up one of those crow trees twice by Poppins). On Sunday afternoon, we popped into the local with Roisin, Jack, Joe and Aine after unpacking a few hundred boxes, and Fergal warmly shook hands when I introduced myself and said if I tell him my favourite wine, he would get it in! If only I had one favourite!!!

Of course, there are also relations. It turns out Fergal is the partner of the daughter of Jack’s (my son in law to be) uncle by marriage. And when the Eir engineer came to install Sky, it turned out that he is the son in law of Jack’s Aunt. (Sadly, it didn’t help him install Sky as it seems the Crows rule the roost and more poles need to be erected). Patricia, Jack’s mum, comes from Killimer which is only up the road, and it seems she has five or six siblings so I think we’re going to find ourselves lots of new friends and relations. Liam, who was with Mike, putting boxes of flowers on our garden wall, asked to be remembered to Patricia because he was at teacher training college with her in Dublin.

Anyway, more about our new home. It was an old forge back in the day and in the nineties was redesigned by a creative architect, Graham Jones. It is open plan, aside from two bedrooms, has a galley kitchen, a mezzanine and is painted red, green and white throughout. There are interesting features, and a lovely use of wood. The wooden floor downstairs is beautiful and the living area at the back is very cosy. There are two stoves to keep us warm and a fabulous garden to enjoy during this sunny weather. Our boundary is a stream (which I had to wade across this morning to rescue the cat which Poppins had chased up a tree). The mezzanine is ‘drenched’ (the auctioneer’s term) in light and we have fantastic and beautiful views of the estuary. Also, Labasheeda Quay is only a three minute walk and at high tide it is lovely to swim there. The future looks rosy. (I can hear my mother from wherever she is warning me not to invoke the law of Sod).

Our first nights have been wonderful. I have lain awake in my bed, gazing up through the open velux window, the black sky awash with stars.  I watched two stars speed across the sky in a straight line, avoiding other stars, as if each had a destination in mind, and a desire to get there on time. Time seems immense as the night hours pass. I can almost feel the earth rotate as I watch Castor and Pollux move South.

After the rainfall today, the stream is gushing again and there is a hint of salt from the midnight incoming tide of the Shannon Estuary. It is hard to believe that this is going to be home.

Anyway, I’ll leave it there for the minute. Tomorrow, we need to get the fence sorted and there are a few more boxes to unpack, heating systems to work out, and at some point I have to start on knitting seven woolly hats for the bridesmaids (don’t ask).

Tout a l’heure!

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Farewell and Adieu…It’s Time to Say Goodbye

It is a long time since I put my fingertips to my black Mac keys. For nearly a year, words have escaped me. My poems have disappeared into the routine of daily life and my writing muscles have withered, so forgive the possibly blunt and meandering prose to come but I have news.

When I made tea ten minutes ago, it was dark outside but now a new dawn (hah), is emerging, and I can hear a Great Tit and a Robin singing in the garden hedge. Now, a blackbird has joined in. Behind my scarlet curtains, I can see the grey of morning filtering through the darkness. I can hear cars beginning their rumble through Swellan into Cavan town and beyond, to continue their journey down the N3 to Navan and Dublin. Opposite, Tony and Marie are still asleep, curtains firmly drawn. Solomon is probably up and gone to work already, Catherine is likely to be stirring. Tis not quite Dylan Thomas’ Under Milk Wood, but like all small towns, there are daily routines to see and hear.

In two weeks, it will be all be different. I will be in the West of Ireland. After nearly 25 years, I am leaving Cavan, its 365 lakes, its multitude of forests, its bogs, its one mountain…all of which have inspired border poems and stories. I am bidding adieu to the community groups, the villages, the football grounds, the theatres, the library, the reading group, the poets, the county council, the town. And I say thank you. Cavan, you have enriched my life, helped me raise my children, and taught me much about love, conflict, and perseverance!

For my third age, I am moving to the pretty village of Labasheeda (bed of silk) in West Clare. Labasheeda is on the Shannon Estuary and our new home is to be (I hope) an old converted, open plan cottage with fabulous views and a lovely garden, beneath a rookery. Every morning I will be able to have coffee on my balcony with the crows and my aperitif in the evening with rooks.

Living in Clare, we will be closer to Roisin and Joe. As you know, if you have read previous blogs, I love Limerick: its restaurants, pubs, art galleries, the milk market and Joe, my son, who lives there. And in the summer, after her wedding, my beautiful, amazing daughter, Roisin, is moving with Jack, and my granddaughter, Aine, to Miltown Malbay which along with Kilrush will be my new local towns. I really like Kilrush. It has lovely wide streets, a marina and Vandaleur, a fabulous walled garden and wood. Miltown Malbay has lovely restaurants, an excellent bakery, a secondhand bookshop and the Willy Clancy festival, not to mention a knitting shop (you really don’t want to know my terrible exploits in the world of wool and needles). And, of course, instead of the forests and lakes of Cavan, Poppins and I will be walking the beaches…Spanish Point, White Strand, Quilty. Glor and the other delights of the county town, Ennis are only 30 minutes away, and finally, English family and friends may be pleased to know that Shannon airport is but a 50 minute drive.

Poppins on Doughmore Bay

I am hoping that all this change may lead new words and fresh poems for I feel sure the Rooks will inspire me and I plan to make friends with them all. But if not, no matter. If you do not hear from me again, dear reader, I leave you with a link to the latest Miltown Malbay promotional video below. You are always welcome.

Adieu, Cavan, thank you for the memories.

MILTOWN Malbay Development Company has introduced a new “anti-promotional” video to show off the town’s beauty and unique charm.

Source: Clare Echo https://search.app/CcGR3U7gdmZZG28K6

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The Stormy Last Five Days of UK Election Campaign

We spent the last five days of the UK election campaign in Kerry. On arrival in Cahersiveen, we went straight to Ferdha’s pub and had chowder for lunch:  light, creamy, stuffed with prawn, cod, potato with a hint of sauvignon blanc. I had a pint of smithwick’s shandy and sized up the blackboard specials with an eye on the future, it was to be either curried monkfish or crab. There was not a hint of a politician anywhere, not even Sir Ed Davey bungee jumping.

After returning to the very nice Airbnb, we unpacked and went out to check the lay of the land. That afternoon, we found two ancient stone forts snuggled among a scrabble of coves, a number of smuggling piers, a stretch of beaches, and green cliffs that rose, momentous, into grey cloud, crammed with earth, soil, and craggy rock. When the kids were little, we used to build stone or wood forts…but our skills never extended to the wonders of Cahergal. Meandering the country lanes, we sniffed at the strands of salty air which hung like large luminous diamanté drops on yellow primrose, ragged robin, herb robert.

The next day began with drizzle and lemon tart, fresh baguette, and cappuccinos from Petit Delice. On the way back, I popped into Corkery’s and bought sink strainers, plastic bowls and Epsom salts. I just love those types of shops.

Given the drizzling rain, we decided to investigate what was once the barracks in the town. It stood tall, white, narrow, three stories high, staring over the River Fertha but it looked like a turreted fairy castle. However, do not be fooled. In we went and I was instantly turned into a miserable, haggard, old age pensioner! Having turned sixty-five, I was charged the concessionary price while Joe had to pay the adult price! This was definitely an age pivoting moment for me. Anyway, fortunately, I was able to still climb all three stories. The barracks was all about Daniel O’Connell, the Catholic Emancipator. Did you know he inspired Ghandi? I was impressed! Later in the week, we visited O’Connell’s enormous, lovely house and gardens (with plants imported from South America) in Derrynane…and let me tell you, he could afford to be lavish in sentiment!

On day two, Valentia Island beckoned us across a narrow concrete bridge. We decide to explore the island in clockwise direction so our first stop was Bray Head. (Obviously, we are still in Kerry, not Wicklow). Up we climbed to visit a clump of cows, poised precariously, at the tip of the cliff. I don’t think they have cattle on Bray Head in Wicklow. When occasionally a ray of sunshine was able to pinpoint them in the sea mist, the views of Skellig islands were fantastic. Next, we meandered around to the Light House perched on the cliff. During our explorations, we went up to the top of the lighthouse and tapped out our names in dots and dashes. It was very windy, and I had to cling to the side to avoid being blown off. After much needed carrot cake in the café, we went on to check out the Tetrapod prints. These are the footprints of the first fish ever to emerge from the sea and walk on the earth. It happened here…in Kerry! We wondered how the geologists knew. I bet the Healy Raes told them. Later, watching the footy, I thought about how impressive it is that, after a million years, those fishes evolved to become these two teams of grown men kicking a ball around a field, and men shouting at each other over a podium.

On day three, we climbed to the high of the Castlequinn Loop, trying to avoid stepping on the buttons and black swirls of poop that come from arses of the horny sheep that stood on the rocks, bleating for all their worth. It was beautiful…for an hour. There was blue sky, rays of sun, emerald seas and a glorious vista of Horse and Puffin islands. Sated with such incidental glory, we headed down for lunch in Cahersiveen. Unfortunately, I chomped on an olive which was in my Greek Salad and it broke my tooth! I can now feel a jagged hole and it hurts when I breath in air. I did know my dentist was also in Kerry (bodyboarding with his kids) but I don’t know where. So, instead, I go buy Ibu Profen, which does the trick. That evening, by way of consolation, Joe took us out to The Oratory, a converted church, for pizza and wine. (You see, the roles are definitely reversing). Anyway, old or not, it was a lot better than communion!

On our last day we head to Catherdaniel. The weather storms around between wind, sun and rain but these are elements with which we’re now at home. In Waterville, coaches of tourists clamber out of coaches to mill and snap the fabulous views. We pass by. The road rises. The sky is blue. We come to a bend and drive through a mountain pass, gasp with delight at the stunning view: glistening gems and sparkling jewels are all aglitter in the sea. We laugh with glee, and descend down through a glorious avenue of trees and fragmented rays of sun, to reach Derrynane beach. It is practically empty and beautiful. The tide is out. Joe and I canter across the sand, over rocks and pools, in the dunes. The wind is fresh, the stone is warm, the sea is blue,  black, grey or green. The air is filled with sun and rain. Glorious.

On Thursday 4 July, we have to wend our way home, away from glistening seas, and back up to Cavan via Limerick where we drop Joe off. At five o’clock, we pick up Poppins from Precious Pets, and come home. I make leek soup, lay out cheese and crackers, ready to watch the British election results. Last time we watched the British elections, my friends Kevin Higgins and Susan Millar du Mars were with us and it was a wipe out for Labour. Thank God, this time, the Tories are wiped out. Kevin would have enjoyed it. I truly hope that Labour is able to tackle the poverty and Tory destruction in a more comprehensive manner than Keir Starmer suggested on his campaign. I am also pleased by the increased Lib Dem vote. I found myself in agreement with more of their policies before I went to Kerry than Labour’s. The increase in the Reform vote is very alarming and scary but, at least, there is now a salty glimmer of hope in the air in the UK, though I’m pretty sure it will be stormy weather ahead!

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