Cows calling
Irish Country Observer 2 Spring 2005
We knew spring had truly arrived a few weeks ago when Dave went out to the toilet tent first thing in the morning and was greeted by three cows and three calves in our meadow, staring at him in surprise.
They had wandered down the road (probably sired by that bull we met last fall) and were drawn into our luscious meadow filled with daffodils. Not certain who owned the land up there I phoned our neighbor and found that they belonged to the O’Learys; and it wasn’t an unusual event and they even sometimes got as far as her yard. I duly phoned the O’Learys with the ditty about Mrs. O’Leary’s cow and the Chicago fire going through my head. Mrs. O’Leary answered the phone and sure enough they had three cows and calves out and himself would be up in a while, after his cup of tea. It was the longest cup of tea (an Irish “while”) cause we never saw him, but the cows wandered back along the road shortly after he rang, so I guess he knew.
Meanwhile, our work on the house has gone along at a fair pace. It doesn’t seem so at times, but when I
look back at January and the hole in the ground I do see the difference. After the walls went up, we seemed to hover in the “just about to do the roof” time period for the month of February. The builder went off on another job with the promise of a return in 10-14 days that ended up the whole month. The weather turned very cold and we had hail and rain for several days. In the mean time we ordered and put in the stone for the floor. It’s called“trunken” here which sounds about as heavy as it was taking barrow loads from the pile and dumping it into the extension. I lost count after about 100 barrow loads (was it 100?). Dave did most of the back work. I did wheel out and dump the barrow loads of earth before hand though (that was along the lines of about 50-60).
We knew spring had truly arrived a few weeks ago when Dave went out to the toilet tent first thing in the morning and was greeted by three cows and three calves in our meadow, staring at him in surprise.
They had wandered down the road (probably sired by that bull we met last fall) and were drawn into our luscious meadow filled with daffodils. Not certain who owned the land up there I phoned our neighbor and found that they belonged to the O’Learys; and it wasn’t an unusual event and they even sometimes got as far as her yard. I duly phoned the O’Learys with the ditty about Mrs. O’Leary’s cow and the Chicago fire going through my head. Mrs. O’Leary answered the phone and sure enough they had three cows and calves out and himself would be up in a while, after his cup of tea. It was the longest cup of tea (an Irish “while”) cause we never saw him, but the cows wandered back along the road shortly after he rang, so I guess he knew.
Meanwhile, our work on the house has gone along at a fair pace. It doesn’t seem so at times, but when I
look back at January and the hole in the ground I do see the difference. After the walls went up, we seemed to hover in the “just about to do the roof” time period for the month of February. The builder went off on another job with the promise of a return in 10-14 days that ended up the whole month. The weather turned very cold and we had hail and rain for several days. In the mean time we ordered and put in the stone for the floor. It’s called“trunken” here which sounds about as heavy as it was taking barrow loads from the pile and dumping it into the extension. I lost count after about 100 barrow loads (was it 100?). Dave did most of the back work. I did wheel out and dump the barrow loads of earth before hand though (that was along the lines of about 50-60).
Dave also worked on the fireplace in the dining room. The builder and Dave had lined both chimneys with new flues and packed the surrounding areas with lime and cement. The large chimney we had to re-cement and then build up the floor. We also had the crane (the iron pole and pot hook) mended and replaced it into the floor. It looks really good.
February is also the month for celebrating St. Bridgit’s day (Feb.1) and St. Gobnait’s Day (Feb.11). St. Bridgit is well known to all of Ireland here and her feast day signals the first sign’s of spring, lambing and other stirrings of life. In the village they had the day off school and had St. Bridgit’s cross making (with rushes) in the Ionad Cultura. St. Gobnait’s is less well known, but she is the patron saint of the area and her grave is just outside the village just by her sacred well. She lived in about the 7th Century and was a religious woman who traveled around Ireland and ended up here when she saw the special sign of siting 9 harts (deer). Here she raised bees and healed many many people with her honey. People visit her grave and do special circuits of her oratory, grave and the ancient church ruins as well as the holy well. On her feast day they take an ancient statue out in the parish church and employ the old custom to take “Tomhas Ghobnatan”—measuring the length and breadth of the statue with a bit of ribbon which was believed to have powers to ward off evil and cure illness .
In Feburary I also did another storytime for the library. I had a good lineup of books for the older kids who came this time. They really still enjoyed the singing and little games too. They all turn up regularly and enjoy the story time given in Irish which is given every other week.
While I was there at the library, besides setting a date in March to start the teen book club, I happened to mention that I liked to sing in Irish, even though I didn’t speak Irish. The librarian invited me to join the choir, which were looking to get some new members. She explained it was the Cór Ban Chúil Aodha (Coolea Women’s Choir) and it was led by Peadar O’Riada, son of Sean O’Riada. I’d heard of Sean O’Riada who had settled in this area in the 60s. He was a power house movement behind the resurgence of interest in Irish traditional music. He started the group that was to become the Chieftains and wrote contemporary music for films as well as lecturing and writing about Irish music. I was really excited. Apparently this choir had restarted many years ago by Peadar and they worked on his composition of an 18th century Caoineadh Airt Uí Laoghaire (Lament) written by Eileen O’Leary for her husband, Art, who was from the area and shot dead. They performed several times locally and in places all over Ireland, but now they were working on a new piece, The Song of Solomon in Irish. Laoi na Laoithe. She did warn me that the choir sang only with the words in front of them, Peadar had them memorize the music without any of it written down. The whole of the Lament in fact was only in Peadar’s head and on a recording.
So I showed up on the Wednesday and of course was the first one there, since no one ever shows up at the designated time, not even Peadar. The librarian was there soon and she introduced me to Peadar and many of the others as they came in. And that was the last I heard English that night, until choir ended. What a hoot. After a warm up (I could do that well enough) we began the real work. While reading off of the librarian’s sheets for the words, I tried to pick up the music for the piece. Peadar would stop occasionally and issue instructions (I think) and from gestures and a note on the piano I would pick up some of what was going on. Then for a few minutes Peadar would pick up a paper and scribble down some notes and the next bit of the piece was composed! He composed as we went along. Playing around with tones and harmonies and then giving us about 5 minutes to pick it up and commit it to memory. ACK. But I have to say I enjoyed it very much and looked forward to the next meeting.
In the next few weeks I managed to acquire the words for the Song of Songs and also the Lament
and some of the other short songs they sang as well. Soon though we started concentrating on the Lament since the date of the performance was approaching and Peadar wanted us to brush up on the lament. The first time we went through it I was a little overwhelmed, even though I had played the CD a few times at home to get the gist of it. The problem was hearing my part among all the harmonies. In many cases we were split off into six or more parts. I was clustered with 2 others (“altos”—read mezzo soprano/alto) and couldn’t always make out our part, even when I was there with them. That and trying to read the words and pronounce them right was something. So the librarian took pity on me and recorded the part along with the other woman. The next week or so before the performance I sat in the car singing along with the tape practicing while the building went on with Dave and the builder.
Besides being overwhelmed with the complexity of the performance the first time we sang it through in choir I was completely perplexed by a section in which the bulk of the choir sat there waving their right arms up and down and sang “Mar Winging.” “What is that?” I asked later. “Is it some kind of obscure Irish saying? And what’s with the hand waving?” There was groaning. “It’s not Irish at all.” It was explained it was something Peadar came up with to sing in the back ground while the three soloist sang their pieces to give it atmosphere. It had a mixed reception in the choir until they heard the recording and they could see his point. As for the hand waving, it was to help give the tempo to the group as they counterpointed against one another. But all it did was confuse, really. “And what does it look like, I ask you? A Mexican wave gone wrong, I tell you.” That’s what someone said who saw the performance.
That aside it is a truly impressive piece that lasts 45 or so minutes and is a tribute to Peadar. And I was looking forward to being a part of it. Not the least because it would mean going up to Galway, on the Connemara coast. Where we would stay in a B&B. Where there was a shower. Maybe even a tub. Dave was green with envy.
We went up the Saturday afternoon for the performance in the evening. I ended up in the car with the librarian driving and three other choir members along too. It was an incredibly lively group that made the journey a laughter filled experience. Thankfully they talked exclusively in English and treated me as a good friend. We managed to get lost a few times and I learned that the sign posting from Cork to Galway is not the best. A few times we circled the roundabouts at least 3 times before we decided which road to take.
The performance was in the Culture Hall and we were that late that we went directly there for rehearsals. That allowed me only a quick change at the B&B before we returned for the performance. I stood in a borrowed black jacket and yucky hair with my black Ph.D. academic gown in place of the Macroom black cloak the others wore (there was no time to have one made for me). But it was grand. The place was full and they loved us.
Afterwards we went to the pub nearby. And then the singing began. The choir members are mostly good singers in their own right. Peadar runs a sean nos (old style, unaccompanied singing) class once a week and many are part of it. So it was a chance for them to sing and boy did they. It was great. The locals joined in too. Everyone ended up singing a song or two in the end. They even made me sing one (The Water is Wide) and luckily one of them sang along with me. I was terrified in the face of such great singing and wouldn’t dare try one in Irish. But it went okay. Finally at 3 or so in the morning we found our way to our beds. I still managed to get up at 8:30 so I could have a shower before breakfast. I spent ages in it. After breakfast a few others went in search of coffee at the nearest pub and eventually we all ended up in a different pub singing again! The locals sang as well and made requests. It wasn’t until 3 we pulled away to make the journey home.
After the performance we have now been concentrating on Song of Songs again. Because of the interlude some of us forgot our parts and Peadar couldn’t find his notes or remember himself so he had to compose it all over again! The next week he turned up with pen and music paper and started writing it down. The night changed as well to Tuesday, and since Dave was tutoring those nights I have now taken to walking down myself. It is a beautiful walk, and so far the weather has cooperated. I have witnessed some amazing colors and sunsets in the sky as I make the 45 minute trek out the back way and down the hills, pass St. Gobnait’s well to the village.
February is also the month for celebrating St. Bridgit’s day (Feb.1) and St. Gobnait’s Day (Feb.11). St. Bridgit is well known to all of Ireland here and her feast day signals the first sign’s of spring, lambing and other stirrings of life. In the village they had the day off school and had St. Bridgit’s cross making (with rushes) in the Ionad Cultura. St. Gobnait’s is less well known, but she is the patron saint of the area and her grave is just outside the village just by her sacred well. She lived in about the 7th Century and was a religious woman who traveled around Ireland and ended up here when she saw the special sign of siting 9 harts (deer). Here she raised bees and healed many many people with her honey. People visit her grave and do special circuits of her oratory, grave and the ancient church ruins as well as the holy well. On her feast day they take an ancient statue out in the parish church and employ the old custom to take “Tomhas Ghobnatan”—measuring the length and breadth of the statue with a bit of ribbon which was believed to have powers to ward off evil and cure illness .
In Feburary I also did another storytime for the library. I had a good lineup of books for the older kids who came this time. They really still enjoyed the singing and little games too. They all turn up regularly and enjoy the story time given in Irish which is given every other week.
While I was there at the library, besides setting a date in March to start the teen book club, I happened to mention that I liked to sing in Irish, even though I didn’t speak Irish. The librarian invited me to join the choir, which were looking to get some new members. She explained it was the Cór Ban Chúil Aodha (Coolea Women’s Choir) and it was led by Peadar O’Riada, son of Sean O’Riada. I’d heard of Sean O’Riada who had settled in this area in the 60s. He was a power house movement behind the resurgence of interest in Irish traditional music. He started the group that was to become the Chieftains and wrote contemporary music for films as well as lecturing and writing about Irish music. I was really excited. Apparently this choir had restarted many years ago by Peadar and they worked on his composition of an 18th century Caoineadh Airt Uí Laoghaire (Lament) written by Eileen O’Leary for her husband, Art, who was from the area and shot dead. They performed several times locally and in places all over Ireland, but now they were working on a new piece, The Song of Solomon in Irish. Laoi na Laoithe. She did warn me that the choir sang only with the words in front of them, Peadar had them memorize the music without any of it written down. The whole of the Lament in fact was only in Peadar’s head and on a recording.
So I showed up on the Wednesday and of course was the first one there, since no one ever shows up at the designated time, not even Peadar. The librarian was there soon and she introduced me to Peadar and many of the others as they came in. And that was the last I heard English that night, until choir ended. What a hoot. After a warm up (I could do that well enough) we began the real work. While reading off of the librarian’s sheets for the words, I tried to pick up the music for the piece. Peadar would stop occasionally and issue instructions (I think) and from gestures and a note on the piano I would pick up some of what was going on. Then for a few minutes Peadar would pick up a paper and scribble down some notes and the next bit of the piece was composed! He composed as we went along. Playing around with tones and harmonies and then giving us about 5 minutes to pick it up and commit it to memory. ACK. But I have to say I enjoyed it very much and looked forward to the next meeting.
In the next few weeks I managed to acquire the words for the Song of Songs and also the Lament
and some of the other short songs they sang as well. Soon though we started concentrating on the Lament since the date of the performance was approaching and Peadar wanted us to brush up on the lament. The first time we went through it I was a little overwhelmed, even though I had played the CD a few times at home to get the gist of it. The problem was hearing my part among all the harmonies. In many cases we were split off into six or more parts. I was clustered with 2 others (“altos”—read mezzo soprano/alto) and couldn’t always make out our part, even when I was there with them. That and trying to read the words and pronounce them right was something. So the librarian took pity on me and recorded the part along with the other woman. The next week or so before the performance I sat in the car singing along with the tape practicing while the building went on with Dave and the builder.
Besides being overwhelmed with the complexity of the performance the first time we sang it through in choir I was completely perplexed by a section in which the bulk of the choir sat there waving their right arms up and down and sang “Mar Winging.” “What is that?” I asked later. “Is it some kind of obscure Irish saying? And what’s with the hand waving?” There was groaning. “It’s not Irish at all.” It was explained it was something Peadar came up with to sing in the back ground while the three soloist sang their pieces to give it atmosphere. It had a mixed reception in the choir until they heard the recording and they could see his point. As for the hand waving, it was to help give the tempo to the group as they counterpointed against one another. But all it did was confuse, really. “And what does it look like, I ask you? A Mexican wave gone wrong, I tell you.” That’s what someone said who saw the performance.
That aside it is a truly impressive piece that lasts 45 or so minutes and is a tribute to Peadar. And I was looking forward to being a part of it. Not the least because it would mean going up to Galway, on the Connemara coast. Where we would stay in a B&B. Where there was a shower. Maybe even a tub. Dave was green with envy.
We went up the Saturday afternoon for the performance in the evening. I ended up in the car with the librarian driving and three other choir members along too. It was an incredibly lively group that made the journey a laughter filled experience. Thankfully they talked exclusively in English and treated me as a good friend. We managed to get lost a few times and I learned that the sign posting from Cork to Galway is not the best. A few times we circled the roundabouts at least 3 times before we decided which road to take.
The performance was in the Culture Hall and we were that late that we went directly there for rehearsals. That allowed me only a quick change at the B&B before we returned for the performance. I stood in a borrowed black jacket and yucky hair with my black Ph.D. academic gown in place of the Macroom black cloak the others wore (there was no time to have one made for me). But it was grand. The place was full and they loved us.
Afterwards we went to the pub nearby. And then the singing began. The choir members are mostly good singers in their own right. Peadar runs a sean nos (old style, unaccompanied singing) class once a week and many are part of it. So it was a chance for them to sing and boy did they. It was great. The locals joined in too. Everyone ended up singing a song or two in the end. They even made me sing one (The Water is Wide) and luckily one of them sang along with me. I was terrified in the face of such great singing and wouldn’t dare try one in Irish. But it went okay. Finally at 3 or so in the morning we found our way to our beds. I still managed to get up at 8:30 so I could have a shower before breakfast. I spent ages in it. After breakfast a few others went in search of coffee at the nearest pub and eventually we all ended up in a different pub singing again! The locals sang as well and made requests. It wasn’t until 3 we pulled away to make the journey home.
After the performance we have now been concentrating on Song of Songs again. Because of the interlude some of us forgot our parts and Peadar couldn’t find his notes or remember himself so he had to compose it all over again! The next week he turned up with pen and music paper and started writing it down. The night changed as well to Tuesday, and since Dave was tutoring those nights I have now taken to walking down myself. It is a beautiful walk, and so far the weather has cooperated. I have witnessed some amazing colors and sunsets in the sky as I make the 45 minute trek out the back way and down the hills, pass St. Gobnait’s well to the village.
toilet tent
The house meanwhile moved on once March arrived and the builder returned. We had arranged to have scaffolding delivered on the builder’s advice and so that he and Dave wouldn’t have to balance on wood planks spread across oil drums. Did I mention this is not
your standard building approach? Well it might sound like progress with scaffolding, but when they were delivered at 9:30 at night by the guy who sold us our lintels and sills I could only laugh. They were probably about 40 years old and the joints required many squirts of WD40. Dave and I spent a few hours erecting them and made them as stable as we could.
Still, the builder made nimble progress around the roof building the carcass and finishing off the chimney at the top. It took shape and the felt and battens were put on (they don’t board it here and don’t use shingles) in less than a week. The next week the builder and Dave dodged showers and put in the veluxes (skylight windows) and began the slating (man made). The weather really started to break then, but luckily we were in the dry with the felt and battens protecting us.
Or so we thought until one night when the rain poured down and we were laying in bed and could here the flashing around the velux funnel water right into the upstairs. Whooosh. Dave scrambled upstairs clad only in a t-shirt and madly spread buckets around. I groaned and thought, this is it, I’ve had enough.
A few days more and we were truly dry though and the guttering and trim was installed. It really began to look nice. We had more window estimates and door estimates and finally made the decision on that. We also finally got approval for a grant to go ahead with drill for a well. Things seemed to be going in the right
direction.
One issue that has risen occasionally in the last few months is the parcel of land across the
road. It was originally part of the farm but was bought separately in a 7 acre parcel by a Canadian who promptly sold the 1 acre across from us to an Englishman who wants to build on there. He has put in for planning permission and has yet to hear if he got it. The problem is that our gravity fed water runs across his land so we were anxious to get permission for a grant to dig our well. This permission to get the grant was good news.
your standard building approach? Well it might sound like progress with scaffolding, but when they were delivered at 9:30 at night by the guy who sold us our lintels and sills I could only laugh. They were probably about 40 years old and the joints required many squirts of WD40. Dave and I spent a few hours erecting them and made them as stable as we could.
Still, the builder made nimble progress around the roof building the carcass and finishing off the chimney at the top. It took shape and the felt and battens were put on (they don’t board it here and don’t use shingles) in less than a week. The next week the builder and Dave dodged showers and put in the veluxes (skylight windows) and began the slating (man made). The weather really started to break then, but luckily we were in the dry with the felt and battens protecting us.
Or so we thought until one night when the rain poured down and we were laying in bed and could here the flashing around the velux funnel water right into the upstairs. Whooosh. Dave scrambled upstairs clad only in a t-shirt and madly spread buckets around. I groaned and thought, this is it, I’ve had enough.
A few days more and we were truly dry though and the guttering and trim was installed. It really began to look nice. We had more window estimates and door estimates and finally made the decision on that. We also finally got approval for a grant to go ahead with drill for a well. Things seemed to be going in the right
direction.
One issue that has risen occasionally in the last few months is the parcel of land across the
road. It was originally part of the farm but was bought separately in a 7 acre parcel by a Canadian who promptly sold the 1 acre across from us to an Englishman who wants to build on there. He has put in for planning permission and has yet to hear if he got it. The problem is that our gravity fed water runs across his land so we were anxious to get permission for a grant to dig our well. This permission to get the grant was good news.
We arranged for the well digger to come and he arrived with much pizzazz and geared up with a bit of wire. Over here they divine
for water before they bring out the fancy rigs to drill. I watched him as he walked the land with the bit of wire out before him that bobbed occasionally. He settled on one area and then offered it to me to try out. I had a go and found it very strange. It did pull up a bit in an area. All very interesting.
In the end we had a second opinion. Not because we didn’t trust the divining, on the contrary, we thought he was a bit too flash and not eager to try and find water closer to the house. We ended up with an older man in coveralls who brought his own bit of wire and, without the flash, quietly found water closer to the house. We still await the rig to come and drill though to confirm his findings.
March of course is also the month for St. Patrick’s Day. And of course it’s big over here. In Macroom, the town near us they have a huge parade. I toyed with the idea of going, persuaded by the news that they were having a few Philadelphia mummer’s bands there. There is also much music and events there too. But I heard the traffic
and parking is a nightmare and I have to confess we were so tired from lugging that we went to bed early and didn’t even go down the village to hear the great band playing at the Ionad Cultura. Next year.
The teen book club started off with 2 very enthusiastic members, a boy and girl. By the second meeting we had doubled our membership to 4, with the addition of another boy and girl. They are a good group and are very talkative about their books. They have some good insights and can analyze some of the points very well. The first time we just discussed books in general and what they liked. The second meeting we discussed the book Apocalypse, which had some heavy duty religious themes, even though it was about a boy shipwrecked on an island with his parents. They didn’t like it (ha). The next meeting is this Saturday and we’ll be discussing A Gathering Light (published as A Northern Light in America) which is an adult cross over book that I really liked.
After the roof went on we got some quotes in on plumbing. The plumber’s name came by recommendation from a friend. He is semi-retired. When I told the builder his name, he said he didn’t know him, but then when the plumber showed up the builder greeted him like he knew him. Later he told me he didn’t know his proper name, but his nickname. We also had a quote from the electrician and then the builder said that the O’Leary’s son (the cows in the field) was an electrician who was starting his own business. I rang Mrs. O’Leary and shortly after the son phoned me. He came round and gave a quote worthy of a neighbor.
Feeling more confident about our finances we decided to roof the pig shed on the side of the house and knock through from the porch into it so that it runs right round and will become our utility room. That done in a week it looked great, complete with roof light. Dave moved in the washing machine and I was in glory. I could do washing at home! With the gravity fed water and a hose stretching across the yard it only took 3 hours per load. But still, it was great.
So we make progress. We studded out the rooms upstairs and down in the extension and then arranged to pour the floor before we let the builder go on to his next job with someone else. We arranged for the cement truck to call and the builder arrived and prepared with Dave for it. 2 hours late it showed up, just as Dave had to leave for tutoring. The truck rolled down off our concrete drive to the ground to pour
through the window. And yes, you guessed it, it got stuck. Many, many tries and muck and stone laid under it, it still went nowhere. So I called our neighbor and he came with his tractor and a roar of laughter and pulled it out in 5 minutes.
It was a good thing our neighbor only got rid of his milking cows and not his tractor. His wife told me a few weeks ago that her husband sold off his dairy herd (of course we had heard that from my sister in law’s neighbors and the builder). He kept a few dry cows and calves at this point. He is 60 and dairy herds have been steadily become less profitable in the last 10 years and I think he just had enough. None of his children intend to carry on the farm so he decided to enjoy life. That is the way of things in many areas
now, even here, it seems.
His wife told me this when I was visiting with her and showing her some of my art books. She’s a beginning painter and is very enthusiastic. She invited me along to a painting class she attends once a month in
nearby village, Inchigeela. It’s such a view just going there that you want to get out and paint on the spot. The mountains and sky and then the view of the nearby Loch Allua. Lovely. The class is held in
the pub dining room of Creedon’s hotel. Joe Creedon is a very large man with a great heart and a natural talent who has an English painter, James, come in from Kinsale to give guidance. It is a good laugh and good craic. Mainly I find it 2 hours of uninterrupted painting and a chance to look at others’ approach to art. Joe is amazing—a fast painter of colorful impressions. I’ve gone twice now and thoroughly enjoyed it.
I will miss this month’s class though and 2 choir practices much to my dismay. We are going to Cornwall on Monday for 2 weeks in order to sell the car and celebrate Dave’s mother’s birthday. We hope to get a vehicle more sympathetic to the state of the roads here and it’s easier to do all this in England. Within a few days of our return we should have the windows put in and the plumbing and electrics done shortly after. Realizing that a few things won’t fit up the stairs we have now been working on getting the bed, the bureau,
the tub and the drywall through the large window upstairs. That meant hoisting them up on a ladders and through windows. We did the dry wall today. My biceps are amazing now.
The latest news in the area here though is the film that is being made. It is on a famous Irish rebel, Dan Barry (don’t know him). Apparently they are thatching a cottage in Coolea for the film location only to burn it off for the filming. Peadar is somehow involved and his sister’s husband is singing in the film. One of the women in the choir came up to me and asked about our barn. She apparently is working on getting
locations and items for the film and she needs a stone barn. They have one but she wanted another one to view in case that one isn’t suitable. They are also looking for cows with horns (horns are illegal here now) so it looks authentic to the 1920s. So who knows, our barn might be in film!
for water before they bring out the fancy rigs to drill. I watched him as he walked the land with the bit of wire out before him that bobbed occasionally. He settled on one area and then offered it to me to try out. I had a go and found it very strange. It did pull up a bit in an area. All very interesting.
In the end we had a second opinion. Not because we didn’t trust the divining, on the contrary, we thought he was a bit too flash and not eager to try and find water closer to the house. We ended up with an older man in coveralls who brought his own bit of wire and, without the flash, quietly found water closer to the house. We still await the rig to come and drill though to confirm his findings.
March of course is also the month for St. Patrick’s Day. And of course it’s big over here. In Macroom, the town near us they have a huge parade. I toyed with the idea of going, persuaded by the news that they were having a few Philadelphia mummer’s bands there. There is also much music and events there too. But I heard the traffic
and parking is a nightmare and I have to confess we were so tired from lugging that we went to bed early and didn’t even go down the village to hear the great band playing at the Ionad Cultura. Next year.
The teen book club started off with 2 very enthusiastic members, a boy and girl. By the second meeting we had doubled our membership to 4, with the addition of another boy and girl. They are a good group and are very talkative about their books. They have some good insights and can analyze some of the points very well. The first time we just discussed books in general and what they liked. The second meeting we discussed the book Apocalypse, which had some heavy duty religious themes, even though it was about a boy shipwrecked on an island with his parents. They didn’t like it (ha). The next meeting is this Saturday and we’ll be discussing A Gathering Light (published as A Northern Light in America) which is an adult cross over book that I really liked.
After the roof went on we got some quotes in on plumbing. The plumber’s name came by recommendation from a friend. He is semi-retired. When I told the builder his name, he said he didn’t know him, but then when the plumber showed up the builder greeted him like he knew him. Later he told me he didn’t know his proper name, but his nickname. We also had a quote from the electrician and then the builder said that the O’Leary’s son (the cows in the field) was an electrician who was starting his own business. I rang Mrs. O’Leary and shortly after the son phoned me. He came round and gave a quote worthy of a neighbor.
Feeling more confident about our finances we decided to roof the pig shed on the side of the house and knock through from the porch into it so that it runs right round and will become our utility room. That done in a week it looked great, complete with roof light. Dave moved in the washing machine and I was in glory. I could do washing at home! With the gravity fed water and a hose stretching across the yard it only took 3 hours per load. But still, it was great.
So we make progress. We studded out the rooms upstairs and down in the extension and then arranged to pour the floor before we let the builder go on to his next job with someone else. We arranged for the cement truck to call and the builder arrived and prepared with Dave for it. 2 hours late it showed up, just as Dave had to leave for tutoring. The truck rolled down off our concrete drive to the ground to pour
through the window. And yes, you guessed it, it got stuck. Many, many tries and muck and stone laid under it, it still went nowhere. So I called our neighbor and he came with his tractor and a roar of laughter and pulled it out in 5 minutes.
It was a good thing our neighbor only got rid of his milking cows and not his tractor. His wife told me a few weeks ago that her husband sold off his dairy herd (of course we had heard that from my sister in law’s neighbors and the builder). He kept a few dry cows and calves at this point. He is 60 and dairy herds have been steadily become less profitable in the last 10 years and I think he just had enough. None of his children intend to carry on the farm so he decided to enjoy life. That is the way of things in many areas
now, even here, it seems.
His wife told me this when I was visiting with her and showing her some of my art books. She’s a beginning painter and is very enthusiastic. She invited me along to a painting class she attends once a month in
nearby village, Inchigeela. It’s such a view just going there that you want to get out and paint on the spot. The mountains and sky and then the view of the nearby Loch Allua. Lovely. The class is held in
the pub dining room of Creedon’s hotel. Joe Creedon is a very large man with a great heart and a natural talent who has an English painter, James, come in from Kinsale to give guidance. It is a good laugh and good craic. Mainly I find it 2 hours of uninterrupted painting and a chance to look at others’ approach to art. Joe is amazing—a fast painter of colorful impressions. I’ve gone twice now and thoroughly enjoyed it.
I will miss this month’s class though and 2 choir practices much to my dismay. We are going to Cornwall on Monday for 2 weeks in order to sell the car and celebrate Dave’s mother’s birthday. We hope to get a vehicle more sympathetic to the state of the roads here and it’s easier to do all this in England. Within a few days of our return we should have the windows put in and the plumbing and electrics done shortly after. Realizing that a few things won’t fit up the stairs we have now been working on getting the bed, the bureau,
the tub and the drywall through the large window upstairs. That meant hoisting them up on a ladders and through windows. We did the dry wall today. My biceps are amazing now.
The latest news in the area here though is the film that is being made. It is on a famous Irish rebel, Dan Barry (don’t know him). Apparently they are thatching a cottage in Coolea for the film location only to burn it off for the filming. Peadar is somehow involved and his sister’s husband is singing in the film. One of the women in the choir came up to me and asked about our barn. She apparently is working on getting
locations and items for the film and she needs a stone barn. They have one but she wanted another one to view in case that one isn’t suitable. They are also looking for cows with horns (horns are illegal here now) so it looks authentic to the 1920s. So who knows, our barn might be in film!