June 25, 2010
Passed a protest, small, tangled, poorly postered, outside Dail Eireann yesterday en route to try to see the Bog body exhibit (closed), the protest was a mixed up affair against the Green Party and the right to shoot whatever is shootable in rural Ireland. (Dog? Badger? your neighbour? My mother’s chicken thieving fox hopefully — somebody take that beggar out pls)
One sign read “I want to be like my brother but John Gormley won’t let me”
I had this image of John Gormley pulling the packet of Club Milks out of the child’s mouth and mobile phone from his grasp through the window of a 4 x4. Waving his hunting rifle naturally.
When we passed, a friend remarked that the country was bankrupt and what with the litany of problems she was astonished people would be gathering their britches over the right to shoot pigeon.
Jackie Healy-Rae was on the news later that night giving out about new drink driving legislation destroying the “Rural way of life.”
June 25, 2010
Lovely night in town at the Film Centre yesterday with McCarthy and Ding.
Lovely day in Blessington Basin and surrounds with Niamh and Roisi.
Lovely evening earlier during these visits with Rahoots and Ding.
Lovely day last week in Cathy’s allotment.
Lovely evening with Cathy drinking coffee at Trinity cricket pitch and eating sushi and ga-nattering.
Lovely day last week with Niamh and Roisi at Clarke’s on the New Cabra Road.
Today will be another fine escapade up the mountain to Se and Sinead and the thousands.
Is there anything, anywhere, anyhow as rewarding and warm as friendship. I sincerely doubt it.
As my sis remarked last Sat morning: “Your friends are too good to you.” Elle a la droit.
June 24, 2010
Lots of talk of unemployment down in the West, redolent of the 1980’s, except for the new houses that stand empty some with signs that read LAST FEW REMAINING across them, when it’s clear there are no curtains in the windows and they’re uninhabited.
What wasn’t and is never in short supply are stories that give way and up and over to more stories or anecdotes. They’ve a great way of quoting people, local ordinary people, you may never have heard or seen the man or woman but it doesn’t matter because they’re created right there in the words … as x x person used to say (God rest him added if he/she is dead). It’s v inclusive you don’t have to be ‘deemed’ someone on account of your job or status, you are someone period. Especially if you’ve something to say or had a good turn of phrase or collected a story.
This tradition now continues with texting. The texting contain funny stories back and forth that will be read aloud for a line or few words that hit the spot.
Equally 5 stories/anecdotes later you could be cursed or invoked for being a pain of a man or woman in nearly the same breath. Like I said it’s inclusive!
June 24, 2010
Read stretches of an interesting book down in Mayo called Windings of The Moy (with Skreen and Tireragh ) written by a Rev James Greer (sp?) republished by the Western People p’haps in 1987, since my Granny had dated it with her name. Written in 1927 I think.
Greer was an insomniac who took night wanderings along and about the River Moy. His one on the abject poverty and evictions in Foxford fascinated me, but mainly his last piece Thoughts on insomnia took it to the bridge for me.
Recording this, naturally enough, at 3.30am.
