Missing the Northern Lights

 I woke up on Saturday morning, early as usual, let the dogs out, made coffee, then went to my desk and completed Wordle in four tries. As always, I opened Twitter/X and posted my results so that a fellow Wordler west of Dingle might see it. I think he and I are the only two folks left in the world who still do this. But what else had he posted? Only the Aurora Borealis over Mount Brandon! I was delighted for him and just a little envious.

I sipped my coffee and noodled over to the WhatsApp family group. And there was another photograph of the Aurora. This time it was Leitrim Sister who’d caught it in the bog. Wow! Aren’t they lucky dogs in 26 I thought to myself. I carried on scrolling. What’s this. The Northern Lights in Crumlin? County Antrim! Where I live. This was my niece Neesh who’d seen the amazing light show. Her photos were the best too. I might have to steal one. Or two.

Photos by Naoise

Next to Facebook to see whose been looking at Nelly’s Garden and what do I find. Vee’s brother Geordie, over at Cardonaghy, only a few fields away from here, okay more than a few, I went on Google Maps and counted them, fifteen fields away but that takes into account that the fields around here are quite small. Anyway, I digress, Geordie too had photos of the Aurora and there’s me slept through the whole thing. Raging!

At least I had Evie’s concert to take my mind off it. This took place at Wellington Church near Galgorm. I passed Geordie’s house on the way and there he was, the lucky beggar, sitting sunning himself at his front door. Evie’s concert was wonderful. I did not take any photographs and was cross with all the people who did as they kept obstructing my view of Evie and her cello. The crossness did not last as the concert was so good. I was feeling happy on the way home and when I passed Geordie’s house we waved at each other. No hard feelings about missing the Aurora.

There were high hopes that it would be visible later that night which is why I found myself standing in a silage field with the Haribos at 11 o’clock, way past my bedtime. Ditto Zoe and the girls. Dave is a night owl so was normal for him although he’d be more likely to be on the sofa than a field at that time of the evening. It was not to be. At the crucial time the sky clouded over and there were no Northern Lights for us.

I was back down the lane, past the silage field today, all by myself, headphones on, plugged into a podcast, fast forwarding to episode 8 to hear my own voice in my ears. This from was the interview I gave at the BBC back in March.* I was slightly in dread of hearing myself but it was OK.

Later on, I listened to the entire series and I'd recommend it to anyone interested in the history of the Northern Ireland conflict.

* Ganching and I were both invited to take part in a BBC Ulster programme about the UWC Worker’s Strike.

Get Me To The Church On Time

 Wellington Street back in the day when Bert knew what was what and where things were.

So yesterday we went to see the EAMS Christmas Concert to support Evie who would be playing the cello in the Junior Orchestra.

As always, I wanted to be early so asked Bert how long to drive to Wellington Church. He replied,

About 15 minutes.

Oh good, thought I. No more cutting it fine.

Where shall we park?, says he.

It's a big church, says I. Should be plenty of parking spaces.

We set off. Bert did not take the road I expected him to. He drove right through the village and past the end of the Fenaghy Road, I asked him

What way are you going?

Into town. Obviously.

I thought you’d go by Galgorm.

Why?

Because that’s the way to the church.

Wellington Church? That’s on Wellington Street.

It’s not. It’s on the Sourhill Road.

Since when?

About fourteen years. Haven’t you noticed it? The church on Wellington Street was demolished around seven years ago. Surely you noticed that?

When am I ever on Wellington Street?

Every time you drive through the centre of Ballymena.

We still managed to make the Sourhill Road in good time and the concert was beyond excellent. Evie and all the young musicians put on an accomplished show. Their teachers and mentors should be very proud of themselves. 

Sieve Eel Vein

Miss Evie's birthday is today. I baked her a cake on Monday, Family Meal Day, and took photographs. But they were not very good. As I get better at cake my photography declines. This was the best of them.

Happy Birthday

Twelve Years Ago

Today was always going to be a busy day. We'd planned to go visit, with a view to procuring, kune kune pigs. Later we'd be going to the Wee Manny's for a surprise birthday party.

What I didn't expect was hearing from Dave that Zoe has been safely delivered of a daughter, our first grandchild. She was a week earlier than expected - the impatient little thing!

So now I must go and wash the smell of pig from my person and get myself ready to visit Zoe, Dave and daughter.

Today

Twelve years later and Miss Martha has just started secondary school. Unfortunately, she has just missed a week's schooling due to testing positive for Covid 19 along with everyone else in her family. She wasn't too badly affected and will be back to her lessons tomorrow. Today, her birthday, was the first day she was able to leave the house. Apparently, the best thing about being in isolation was getting to watch all eight Harry Potter films again.

Evie, seen here peeking from behind the birthday girl, went back to school on Friday. She was the first to test positive and the first out of quarantine.  

I've missed our routines and am hoping that we will all be back to some sort of normality by next week. Martha has already made sure that the traditional Monday birthday meal at our house will still take place, albeit two weeks later. It's to be some sort of sour cream chocolate cake and enchiladas. We'll work out the details on Thursday. I may have to buy some more birthday candles* for I don't think I've got twelve decent-sized ones.

*I re-use birthday candles until they are about 45 mm. Shorter than that, they look really daft. 

A Fallen Sunflower and an Owl Dress

 You would think that this Thursday (with just the two girls) would be less hectic than last Thursday (with seven girls) but not so. Where two girls demand rather a lot of a Granny's attention, not to mention her spare cash, seven girls make their own fun and cost hardly anything.

It all began with a double booking. I arranged that the three daughters of a good friend should come over last week to hang out with Martha and Evie. What I didn't know was that there was an arrangement already in planning for the granddaughters to have two school friends over for a Wednesday night camp out.

Dave's Camp

They all got together around lunchtime and from then on we barely saw them as they raced around fields, fashioned rope swings, rode bikes, played with dogs, bounced on trampolines and built another camp under the beech trees from old furniture destined for the council yard. Okay, there were a couple of dramas. One went off to have sad times in the shepherd's hut because - y'know - stuff. And another one ripped her leg on some barbed wire and never flinched when it was cleaned with TCP. That one won an award at Irish dancing the following day despite her wound. All-in-all a good day and the adults were barely bothered at all.

Today was different but still enjoyable. They paid me more attention which was nice as I was almost completely ignored when their five friends were around. Evie was back at school for a half-day today so Martha and I went trawling the town for pre-loved vintage. In Martha's book two seasons ago New Look passes for vintage. She got some clumpy lace-up boots and a cream dress with a print of long-eared owls and a peter pan collar. Sounds weird but it is adorable. Ten pounds for both items. 

In other news, Martha begins at Ballymena Academy tomorrow. That came around quicker than I expected. 

Martha was always keen on mixing up her look. Emily has that dress now. Another fashionista in the making.

Evie's sunflower must have been 3.5 metres tall. It fell over yesterday, through the tomatoes and into the sweetcorn. The tomatoes were OK but we lost three sweetcorn plants. We're not too sad.

A Day Out In Great Company

 

Strange to see the toys we used to play with on an antique stall

Evie and I planned this long-overdue day out last Monday. Big Sis was going school uniform shopping with her Mum so Evie was at a loose end. Our first stop, Evie's choice, was St George's Market. It has been a long time since I was there and apart from masks and hand sanitisers, it was all much as usual. There were the regular interesting stalls but we were only there for the food. Although had I a spare couple of hundred on me, I might have been tempted by a big dramatic painting of a jackdaw. 

The next place Evie wanted to visit was Victoria Square because there were 'lots of shops'. It turned out that as far as she was concerned there was only one store she wanted to visit - the dreaded Claire's Accessories. I waited outside the door while she spent a good twenty minutes (I timed her) examining the merchandise. Only one purchase was made - a present for her sister.

The next place she needed to visit was Smiggle which is actually worse than Claire's. Evie looked at everything and then bought one thing, some sort of a puzzle. The moment she got outside she ripped the packaging apart and immediately regretted buying it. That put a damper on things for thirty minutes or so during which time we went to Matchetts to buy Bert some clarinet reeds. Then the next stop was Waterstones, a store we both like. We chose two books each and then had lunch in the cafe. 

By the time we left the bookshop, Evie had decided she did like her new puzzle

Of all the street musicians we heard in Belfast, Evie said this percussionist was the best. 

He beat out an impressive rhythm using old plastic buckets, saucepans and other bits and pieces. I suggested to Evie I might buy her some drumsticks and set her loose on the contents of my kitchen cupboards. She seemed to like the idea.

Evie's next port of call was Søstrene Grene but by this time we were hot and tired and as it was getting close to home time, and we took a slow leisurely stroll to the train station. It was more than thirty minutes to departure but we found a cool spot to relax and read our new books.

Heading home

Evie got met at the station by Big Sis and I travelled the next stop along and got met by Bert and the dogs, fashionably late as usual. It was a most enjoyable day.

The books I bought

I chose Starve Acre because of this review,

'The best closing line of any novel we have read this year... A strange and unsettling read'

And knew that as soon as Bert picked it up and read that he'd turn straight to the last page. Which he did this morning. 

Bert's Birthday Cakes

Bert's birthday cake is traditionally served on Zoe's gardening day which is the day I make everyone supper. This has been going on for some years now and there are photos to prove it. It doesn't matter whose birthday it is for everyone gets to eat cake.

Back then Martha would always get involved in the blowing out of candles. She has since learned to hold back.

The icing had to be pink as Martha informed me that it was Bert's favourite colour. Evie is beginning to take an interest in the proceedings. She always liked cake.

Bert is wearing his best birthday boiler suit. 

1919. Martha can now be depended upon to present the birthday cake.

2020. Best cake ever but social distancing put quite a damper on the celebrations. Martha and Evie were not happy that they could not help blow out candles.  

Is it just me, or is Bert getting smaller?
 

Lockdown Christmas Eve

 I had my long-awaited knee X-ray yesterday. The appointment was at 2pm and, as I always like to be early, I presented myself at five minutes before the hour and was seen immediately and back in the van ten minutes later. The downside of these speedy appointments is that we wait much longer to get them and longer again for the results.

Yesterday's other noteworthy event was my first sighting of the Jupiter-Mercury Christmas conjunction. The big night was last Monday but it was too cloudy to see anything. The two planets are drawing apart but we were able to see it in our own yard and I was glad that I had the opportunity. We earth-dwellers do set a lot of store by these heavenly events even though the planets are always there and the conjunction is simply an optical illusion. Still, it was magical.

Thinking of it I was reminded of my obsession with the Hale-Bopp comet in the late 1990s. Bert’s father Johnny was fascinated with it too and probably first saw it from this yard in 1996. By the time the comet was at its most spectacular Johnny was dying. Earth’s view of Hale-Bopp peaked in April 1997, Johnny died less than two months later. When I think of Hale-Bopp now I feel sorry that he didn't get to see it in its full splendour. The point of my story - take every opportunity to gaze at the heavens.

Pearlie and Johnny

So today, it’s Christmas Eve again and this is my sixty-eighth Christmas. As always, things to do. I’ve wrapped all the presents available to me for half of my order from Berlin has yet to arrive. I spent most of the morning making stuffing for our one-legged turkey. Then at half-ten stopped everything to listen to Miss Evie and a multitude of musicians aged from four to eighty take part in a Christmas recording of Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas organised by the BenedettiFoundation.

Evie is one of the cellists (white jumper) roughly in the middle of the screenshot. Only a close relative would bother to seek her out as the picture is so teeny, but she was there, she took part and I am very proud of her.

Tomorrow will be a quiet Christmas, just Bert, Hannah and myself and Bert will be spending a good part of the day with his elderly aunt in Kells. I expect I’ll have a few hours on my own. It will be different and I’m even looking forward to it a little bit. Especially the family Zoom call at 9pm. My one-legged turkey should be starting to sizzle nicely by then.

Evie And Nelly Go Shopping

Yesterday, Evie and I went to Belfast to visit shops such as Claire’s Accessories, Smiggle, Flying Tiger and Sostrene Grene. We took the train. Our purses were bulging with money and Evie was carrying a big shopping bag.

We had lunch in Patisserie Valerie which was delicious. Evie had two courses from the children’s menu and I had a salad.

We started in Claire’s. My logic was that we would get the worst shop out of the way. I limited her to 30 minutes browsing time. That might seem harsh, but thirty minutes in Claire’s is a long time for someone my age.

But I was so wrong about Claire’s Accessories being the worst shop. That award must go to Smiggle, which is dreadful. I have never before seen such a load of exorbitantly priced plastic tat. Apparently, the name Smiggle comes from combining the words ‘smile’ and ‘giggle’. Doesn’t that just make you want to vomit?

Yet, despite the horridness of some of the shops that Evie wished to visit, it was lovely to see her enjoy her day. I didn’t say, did I, that the thirty minutes spent in Claire’s was choosing earrings for her sister who, having reached the age of ten, was allowed to have her ears pierced?

Claire’s – Evie bought Martha earrings and I bought Evie a glittery hairband.

Smiggle – Evie purchased a drinking bottle that ‘squirts water into your mouth’. Surely they all do that? I won’t say what it cost because you might faint.

Flying Tiger – I bought reading glasses. Evie examined almost everything and bought nothing.

Paperchase – Evie played for a long time with a glittery blue dolphin but bought nothing.

HMV – I bought Evie a CD. One of those ones that has scores of songs on it. George Ezra being the track she was keenest on. She has been wanting this particular CD for a long time and I had promised I’d buy it for her when we went to Belfast.

Seasalt – Evie came in on sufferance. I bought a dress and some chocolate. Evie got a complimentary cupcake because it was Seasalt’s Belfast birthday.

Sostrene Grene – a packet of fruity sweets and a free DIY catalogue for Zoe,

WH Smith at the train station – the Irish News and the Beano.

All in all, a rather good day. We’ll do it again next year.

Bluebells

Well. Anyway. I must be feeling in much better form because I'm considering myriad and multitudinous blessings which I will instil into just one word  - bluebells.

Bluebells come just once a year, in the month of May, give or take ten days or so. Martha, Evie and I (and Ziggy and Maya) went to Portglenone Forest today. There was something new to be explored, an old burying ground right beside the forest. I'd never visited it before.

Evie was really delighted to see that Mr Ladybird (Mr?) was still hanging about since her last visit.

Always there are white sports in a bluebell field.

Bluebells and forget-me-nots, wondrous combination.

There is a gate that leads to Portglenone Forest. We explored then returned via the graveyard. On our way back, we met a young woman photographing the bluebells. I said to her, at the top of this path there is a glorious old graveyard smothered in bluebells and forget-me-mots. She followed us there. Thanked us. And took pictures.

Blessings, a lovely Spring day, Martha and Evie, bluebells, forget-me-nots and sharing with a fellow photographer.

Ink On Her Hands

Some Thursdays Miss Evie alights from the school bus in something of a rage. Yesterday was one of these days. I understand this for the trials of Year 3 must be difficult for a young person. She was crying frustrated tears, I went to take her little paw but she pulled it away. Why? She had ink on her hands. And she had - the sort of thick and sticky ink contained in cheap ballpoint pens.

So we had to go to the bus station toilets. There were quite a few people waiting on the seats for it was a cold and windy day. I looked meaningfully at a young man with a holdall on the seat beside him. He removed it and I sat down because I knew it might be a long time before Evie and Martha would emerge. There was some light conversation with the other people waiting while behind the toilet door I could hear Evie’s frustrated sobs and Martha attempting to soothe her. Then the outside door opened and a tall young man burst in shouting.

You have to help me! You have to help me!

We all looked at him with interest. I don’t know what the other people thought but my guess was a medical emergency and that the bus station staff would take care of it. First aid, ambulances, that sort of thing. Probably happens all the time at bus stations.

He went on,

My girlfriend was on the train but she couldn’t open the door! And now she’s gone and she’s a foreigner and she won’t know what to do!

The person behind the desk explained to the young man that she couldn’t do anything as it was a matter for the railway staff and he’d have to ask them to help. But the next stop was Cullybackey and his friend could always get off there.

The young man was sobbing and distraught. He left the waiting room and another young fellow got up to see if he could help him which I thought very kind of him. But he was back in soon after as there was nothing to be done.

Meanwhile, Martha opens the door and says,

Granny, we need your help.

I went in. Evie still had ink on her hands and it wasn’t shifting. I told her not to worry as I had special stuff at home that would take it off and that mollified her. We left the waiting area.

The young man who had lost his girlfriend was outside, still distraught. It occurred to me that I was going to Cullybackey and that, teens of years ago, I’d have involved myself in his drama and ended up regretting it. But I didn’t because, for all I know, his girlfriend (if she even was his girlfriend) might have looked out to the platform, saw him, and thought to herself,

I’m not too sure about this one. I’m not getting off this train!

And we had our own drama to contend with. The ink on Evie’s hands.

When we got home I mixed sugar and cooking oil into a paste and Evie rubbed it into her hands and most of the ink disappeared. I told her the rest would wear off and that the sugar and oil paste was a special trick I learned from her Great-Grandmother Martha. She was OK after that.

Looking Forward

It's two months today until one of my favourite days of the year, St Stephen's Day - the day Stupid Christmas is over. I can't wait.

Tomorrow I am going to Party in the Park, a mid-term break event aimed at small people. The weather is to be diabolical but children cannot be dissuaded, especially tough, outdoorsy types like Martha and Evie.

I need to save my energy for that. So no more blogging tonight.

Cousin Bert

While Bert was strangely unperturbed about being one-third Scandinavian (he doesn't like Ikea but loves a pickled herring) he was utterly astonished when Martha and Evie's father came in this afternoon and announced that he and Bert are fifth cousins. How did he know?

He got sent an email. 

Bert couldn't get over this. Why would Dave get an email? Although Bert called it a text as he does not understand communication technology at all.

But why? Why would they do that?
Do what?
Send Dave a text. Do they know that we know each other?

I tried to explain it to him while I was making supper. Cornish pasties, salad, pickled beetroot followed by a sublime apple and blackberry crumble, all fruit courtesy of Les. Thanks, Les!

Bert's a strange one. Finds out he's less than half a Celt, more than a third Scandi, polluted with Angle and doesn't turn a hair. Finds out that he's actually related to his wife's daughter's partner and cannot get over the fact that the company we all sent our cheek scrapings to knows all about us and is sharing our info with thousands of other punters and god knows who else! But sure, it's only a bit of a diversion to stop us brooding on Brexit, the DUP and the US mid-terms.

The good part is, as I pointed out, it means he's actually related to Martha and Evie. Their Cousin Bert. But they'll still be calling him Granda.

Garden Centre

Today we went to The Range garden centre, where Evie wanted to have her photograph taken at all the stands.

 She insisted on two angles at this one.

 This, she said, was her favourite picture because it featured her favourite flower - the pansy.

We had an hour to use up before we picked up her sister. She asked, "Did you get the lion in the photo?"

And after all that, we only purchased two pot herbs and some lily bulbs. She wanted me to buy a fountain. There are about as many photographs of her standing beside the wide selection of fountains but I think that's enough garden centre for one day.

Oh well, maybe just the one then.

Your Drafty Foot

Holders of the title Most Beautiful Baby in the world, nos. 1, 4 and 5

That was the story I told Evie today on her mum's birthday for when Zoe was born I thought her the most beautiful baby in the world. Then when Katy came along she was the most beautiful baby... and so on and so on as Hannah, Martha, Evie, James and Emily duly made an appearance.

Evie got it. Every baby is the most beautiful baby in the world to the people that love it.

Happy birthday, Zoe. Hope you've had a lovely day. 

A Visit to Seamus Heaney HomePlace

Martha, Evie and I went today to the Seamus Heaney HomePlace at Bellaghy. The girls enjoyed the Exhibition much more than I expected them to. They were especially taken with the interactive features.

In this part of the exhibition, visitors can watch and listen to a variety of people including actors, musicians, writers, Presidents, neighbours and local schoolchildren speak of their connection to Heaney and read from his work. In the photograph above my grandchildren are listening to President Bill Clinton speak of his friendship with Seamus Heaney. The section of poetry that President Clinton chose to read was from The Cure at Troy: A Version of Sophocles' Philoctetes.

History says, Don’t hope On this side of the grave,’
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up
And hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea- change
On the far side of revenge.
Believe that a further shore
Is reachable from here.
Believe in miracles.
And cures and healing wells.

That gave me such hope in these trying and difficult times as did the pleasure that Martha and Evie took from today's experience.

Evie must have listened to at least ten poems on the interactive listening devices. She said her favourite poem was the one about the kite. (A Kite For Michael And Christopher) At six years of age, I don't think she can have an understanding of the complexity of the poem but listening to Heaney's beautiful voice I'm sure she recognised some of the compassion and beauty that the poem contains. The last verse is one of my own favourite pieces, the line 'You were born fit for it' I find especially reassuring.

Before the kite plunges down into the wood
and this line goes useless
take in your two hands, boys, and feel
the strumming, rooted, long-tailed pull of grief.
You were born fit for it.
Stand in here in front of me
and take the strain.

As always, Martha the artist took great pleasure in the children's creative zone.

And Evie, when she tried on this hat in the dressing up corner...

...immediately put me under arrest.