Fifteen Years Ago In Kerry

Tomorrow came and I started looking for pictures to illustrate a post on my recent visit to Kerry. I even went on Flickr! Then fell down a Dingle Peninsula rabbit hole of memories.

Remembered that fifteen years ago I fled to Kerry only days after Pearlie came to live with us. I brought Paddy Dog with me and he was tremendously well-behaved apart from stealing Scruff's bed.

Scruff, always the gentleman, was the perfect host. Fifteen years ago, so of course they're all gone now. 

Three of the best dogs that ever barked.

We climbed Mount Brandon then, even me! It was no bother to the dogs. 

Sadly, the mist was on the mountain that day and I wasn't able to get the view. No matter, I'd seen it before and I hope, I really hope to see it again. Older than me have climbed that hill.

Another picture from that trip. Bert's clematis to the fore, The mountain behind. 

There is something about the place. On the last day I was there we watched a short film about Mount Brandon. About the hill and some people who live beneath it. The brother-in-law features in it. When I climb the hill again I will bring a stick and when I reach the peak I will roar like a lioness.

The Link  to An Cnoc

https://www.tg4.ie/en/player/play/?pid=6323948255112&title=An%20Cnoc&series=C%C3%A9ad%20Seans&pcode=665662&genre=Faisneis

Journey

 I got back last night from a three-night trip to West Kerry. Short skip down to Cullybackey train station, then Belfast, Enterprise to Dublin Connolly, Luas to Heuston for the Cork train, change at Mallow and detrain at Farranfore. Then the drive to Dingle and beyond. I started my journey just before six am and was sitting in Kerry Sister's kitchen at half-four. 

The return journey wasn't as straightforward. Started at eleven in the morning, and had an hour's gap in Dublin. Then the Enterprise was running late and I missed the train I'd hoped to get in Belfast. Then when I got off the train at Cullybackey Bert wasn't waiting for me! Bad husband. He turned up ten minutes later and poo-poohed my annoyance because it wasn't even cold. 

And between those two journeys, I had the loveliest time with my Kerry family which I'll share tomorrow and maybe a picture or two as well.

A Trip To Kerry

Zoe and I have just spent three nights in County Kerry. It was a family occasion, the naming ceremony of my great-nephew.  We travelled by train, which was pleasant enough, although rather a long journey - forty minutes from Cullybackey to Belfast, two hours on the Enterprise to Dublin and four hours from Dublin to Tralee. Bhí sé goirt ar mo thóin.*

Not drowning but waving

When we arrived it seemed that the fam was swimming mad as there was a great rush to Ballydavid before it got too dark or cold - not that those hardy hoors would have cared. As I cannot swim a stroke it was left to me to take the pictures and mind their stuff. Being me, I took the opportunity to have a little fall. Nothing much, a fast approach of kneecaps to asphalt and a bit of abrasion to the hands. The important thing was, no one witnessed it.

That evening we had our supper at Kerry Sister's and made arrangements to have everyone over to our spacious holiday rental the following night. Which would be fifteen people. No bother. 

The spacious holiday rental

The spacious holiday rental consisted of four big rooms, two of which were en suite. I had previously volunteered Zoe and me for the twin bed share. Of which, more later. Enough to say neither of us slept well and that night I had a dream so foul that I will never be able to speak of it.

Although I say it myself the supper for fifteen was a big success. This was almost entirely down to our multi-talented Dr Leitrim Sister who has previous experience catering for stars of stage and screen. Zoe acted as her capable assistant. My own contribution was chopping veggies for a green salad and being encouraging.  

 That was my one and only drinking night. I had at least four (large) glasses of Lidls finest and I like to think I made some new friends. 

Yet sleep eluded me (and Zoe) for a second night. Damn those pathetic, useless beds with their comfortless coverings and cheap single pillows.

The next day was to be the darling nephew's big day. The intrepid swimmers headed back to Ballydavid and I stayed behind to finish Brendan Behan's After The Wake which I'd promised to Leitrim Sister. Then it was off to the Naming Ceremony which turned out to be one of the best days of my entire life. 

The actual ceremony was beautiful, and led by a Humanist celebrant. There was music, sublime and sincere performed by humans who were close to the child. It was meaningful in a way that made me realise that our gods intrude. And the little child knew. He knew that he was loved. Little children don't care about gods. They are the original humanists.

It was a long day with delicious food, great company and craic. I even managed to have an IRL encounter with someone I only knew online and that was good too. 

After all the excitement I thought I might have rested easier in my bed. No luck. I tossed and turned and ached all night. A short fitful sleep was marred by horrible anxiety dreams and I even considered moving to the sofa in the sitting room for relief. Zoe beat me to it and I was left plotting revenge on the haunted beds. I fantasised about breaking my bed with a hammer and then burning it to ashes on the front lawn.

Last day. I'd finished After the Wake and swapped it for Leitrim Sister's copy of The End of the World is a Cul de Sac which was shaping up to be excellent. There was a last goodbye to everyone and special hugs for the baby. We will meet again soon.

Leitrim Sister gave Zoe and me a lift to  Dublin where we completed the journey by train. And on the way, we stopped at  Barack Obama Plaza on the Tipperary/Offaly border. We hit it at a busy time - there were 5 coaches in the car park, two belonging to a hundred or more under-12 GAA lads and three packed with students heading to Dublin. On the way back to the car, Leitrim Sister and Zoe were expressing some disappointment about the services offered. But not me. I felt enlivened by the squawking baby footballers and delighted with the weary students. It could have been worse, I ventured. Could have been 5 coach loads of wee grannies like me.

Zoe said, 

Can you imagine it? All those wee grannies standing around the coffee machine saying,  "How does it work? Can you show me?"

Cheeky skitter.

* I am using an online translation service and would welcome corrections.

Ar ais go Ciarraí

 If all goes according to plan, by this time tomorrow, I'll be west of Dingle. 

I bought these postcards the first time I went to Dingle which was sometime last century.

In other news, Wordle is suspended as my PC won't fit in my suitcase. I have a winning streak of 103 and must begin afresh on my return to County Antrim.

A Visit to the Dingle Peninsula

I had a smashing time in Kerry – literally! The first thing I smashed was the passenger side bumper of my car. This was the result of a little accident I had whilst pulling out from a shop in Limerick. He came from nowhere m’lud. And far too bloody fast and me in serious need of a coffee break. Which is what I’d stopped for. Being a twit I immediately admitted guilt and the wee lad was OK about it. His car was barely marked but as usual he wanted to go through the boring crap of garages and quotes. There’s my bumper hanging off and all his entire car got was a wee scuff on its paintwork. With time to think about it I realise it was as much his fault as mine.

We settled the matter with fifty euro and I hope never to hear from him again. I have reason to believe I might not. Unless he reads this blog.

Then the following day I sat on my camera whilst out on a beach walk with the Kerry Sister and Brandon. I was a wee bit gutted but decided it was a perfect opportunity to get a nicer camera.

It is thirteen years since I stayed west of Dingle and I saw a lot change in the place. The Kerry Sister’s garden was amazing. Last time I’d been there it was a wee patch of flowers, a bit of fuchsia, some crocosmia and a couple of fields of stone and rushes. She’s been busy this last decade. It must have helped that Brandon’s a digger man as well as a dry stone waller. But he’d be the first to admit that most of the work was done by the Kerry Sister herself.

Then there was the extension – which was perfectly in keeping with the charm of the old house. Once again the pair of them had carried out most of the work themselves. It's nice for Brandon to be married to a carpenter. I was very impressed.

Dingle has got very modern. And the tourists have changed. There were hardly any Americans (cannot afford Europe these days) and many fewer Germans although there were lots more Japanese.

Other things have changed too. Once it was only the tourists drove decent cars. The locals moved around in rusty cars or ancient tractors. The fields were full of donkeys. Now there’s hardly a donkey in sight. It’s all SUVs, brand new tractors and ponies. These days the only people driving crappy cars are sure to be tourists – like me.

At least I managed to get to the top of Mt Brandon without breaking anything!