Still Freezing

 

First, to establish, that is not Bert - it was his late Uncle Paddy who kept sheep. Bert hasn't bothered with sheep, except for a time when he was a boy. He tells me that it was selling the lambs that got him the money for his first greenhouse and set him off on a different career.

Here at Springhill, it is just one degree above freezing and it's been foggy all day. I have to go out later to pick Hannah up (taxi cabs are rare as hen's teeth) and I've just watched a YouTube tutorial on locating the foglights on a Toyota Hiace van. It's been a while.

In other news, Pippin has been spayed and will be allowed out again when she has completely recovered. Personally, I think her vet is a bit of a fusspot for she's been out already. She doesn't stay long. Two months as a house cat has softened her up.

Out buying my Guardian this morning and another interesting man caught my eye. Curly hair, bearded, fiftyish - had that bodhran player vibe going on. He bought The Times. I was sad for him.

A Trip to Leitrim

 Lough Gill from Slish Wood in Sligo

On Friday morning I caught the train to Belfast and boarded the bus to Enniskillen. Mooched around Enniskillen for a while before I met Dr Leitrim Sister. It has been a long time, way too long, since I visited there. 

There have been quite a few changes to their house since my last visit - new kitchen and bathroom- both completed during the lockdown and a lot of the work was carried out by my multi-talented sister. 

No visit to Drumkeeran would be complete without a visit to the delightful Wynne's Bar. I did not spot any sheep the night I was there. I expect they were all rounded up by the time we got there.

We also took a trip to Sligo, where the sister and I did a bit of shopping and my brother-in-law went to the theatre (where he works). We all met up for a bite in Lyons, an old-fashioned department store with a popular cafe. And on the way home, we took a walk with the dog in beautiful Slish Wood.

It was a lovely, relaxing visit.

I only brought one book with me, knowing that if I finished it too soon the sister's house is well-stocked with literature, much of it to my liking. However, my Tana French lasted the course. I started it on the coach to Enniskillen and just as the train pulled into Ballymena station I finished it. 

It was great to see Bert and the dogs in Cullybackey and a relief that the kitten had not been lost. We watched the very silly Handmaid's Tale and Simon Schama then off to my own wee bed. Pippin too. And back to Elizabeth Jane Howard where Mrs Hugh Cazalet is having a baby. I got her the length of her bed last night. And stopped reading. Today she was still labouring away. I stopped reading. I expect her to deliver (hopefully safely) when I pick it up again tonight.

I Wake Up Stupid

 At first, I did not realise that I'd woken up stupid. The first indication came as I was driving into town to pick up the young lad doing a bit of painting for us. The red light was on, and I'd left my wallet on the kitchen table. There was probably enough diesel in the tank to take me to Ballymena and back but I knew I could not handle the stress of worrying that I'd come to a halt in the middle of town. Better to fill up. So I wheeled around, retrieved my wallet and headed up the Kilrea Line to the petrol station. 

As I drove, keeping an eye on the red light, I wondered where the tank was. This would be my first time buying fuel for this particular vehicle. Turned out to be the passenger side. Got out, keys in hand, ready to unlock the fuel cap. Immediate problem. I didn't know how to open it. I vaguely recalled there being a magic lever somewhere but I could not find it. By this time the proprietor of the petrol station was out on the forecourt advising me as to where to look. This was when I first realised I was displaying signs of stupidity. I decided to phone Bert and found that I could no longer work my phone. My stupidity was increasing by the moment. Eventually, I got through and eventually, Bert answered and talked me through the location of the magic lever. The proprietor was standing by the magic door and boy was she excited when it sprang open. With the tank just over half-full and my wallet sixty quid lighter, I headed to town to pick up my painter.

Seemed no time until I was driving back to town to pick up the schoolies. I went early enough to spend a little time in the shops. It's a pity I only changed my gardening shoes before I left the house as I noticed (far too late) that my yellow jumper had two sinister brown stains on the front. The stains were probably just HP sauce but they looked nasty. I decided to buy a new jumper in the Oxfam Shop. I also bought 3 pairs of sunglasses as I'd sat on mine at the petrol station. More stupidity. And, of course, I bought a book (Ian Rankin). Six pounds well spent and off to the Council Loo to change my top. There is a sort of in and out barrier in there. I got in OK but on the way out I forgot how it worked much to the amusement of the attendant. He talked me through the mechanics of it and I managed to escape.

Schoolies gathered up we drove home slowly and safely on a long and little-travelled road as I did not trust myself to get tangled up in the home-from-school rush. Instead, we dallied along country lanes admiring the sheep. 

There was one final instance of stupidity. After the painter and the schoolies went home we decided to order dinner from the Golden City in Ahoghill. Bert drove there, I was the collector. He parked in the Diamond and I jumped out of the van and barged straight into a beauty salon. It took me a few seconds before I realised I wasn't in a Chinese Takeaway. How Bert laughed.

I hope to be smarter tomorrow.

Counting Sheep in 2016

 I found this scrap of a post today on an old external hard drive. Written 22nd November 2016.

On nights when I find myself tired but not quite ready to fall into sleep I have a number of little mind games to help lull me over. These vary from a winning the lottery fantasy (I never play the lottery) and how I would dispose of my fortune. I’d need at least £7,000,000 as I have a very big family. Sometimes, if I don't wish to excite myself too much I just try to remember all the 32 counties of Ireland.

Back when I was a teenager, I’d be deciding in which order I’d date the Monkees and which of them I’d eventually marry and raise children with. It was always either Davy Jones or Mickey Dolenz and I only went out with Peter Tork once and then we just held hands. You know, thinking back, I never once planned my wedding or thought about a wedding dress. It was always about what Davy and I (or Mickey and I) were going to call our huge family of mostly female children. Lord! I was so young.

Last night I found a new method of helping myself nod off. A fantasy of having Donald Trump killed.

I must have been feeling slightly better the following week when I wrote and posted this,

And what of my inner life? Well... I'm still trying to come to terms with what appears to be the new world order and the rise of the right. At least I'm not dreaming about killing that man any more. Negative energy Nelly, negative energy.

It's been a long four years.

Clint Has No Cock

Poor Clint. Foxy made off with his three remaining roosters, each one of them reared from an egg. That's Son of Corky, the Lakenvelder and the Barnvelder all gone.

Meanwhile down in Seannachoill the Kerry Sister and Brandon are being tortured by the incessant crowing of their neighbour's eight roosters. Kerry Sister tells him, "Paudeen, you're the talk of the parish carrying feed to eight useless roosters."

"Am I? " says he, delighted at the idea.

We may get a few good County Antrim foxes exported to the Dingle Peninsula to take care of the problem. I'd be glad to part a few of them.

Now what to do about the flock of sheep that spend a lot of time in the Kerry Sister's garden munching her vegetables and flowers? I've suggested they invest in a large freezer for starters.

Return to Brokeback Mountain

The first place we visited on our recent camping trip was the historic village of Caledon in County Tyrone. Caledon is a border town abutting on to the counties Armagh (Northern Ireland) and Monaghan (Eire). What I didn't know before we went there was that Bert was making a return visit to the area.

Sometime in the early 80s Bert took a summer job with the Ulster Trust for Nature Conservation. His role was to assist in a survey of birds in the area of the Blackwater river valley. He and Philip (an ecologist) spent four months living in a forester's hut just outside Caledon village. It was at the height of the Troubles. We drove to the site where the hut had stood.

We slept there on the floor of the hut. Every morning we'd cook breakfast on an old wood-burning stove. It was my Brokeback Mountain summer.

Oh really? Was there sex?

No sex.

Was there sheep?

No sheep.

Stands to reason I suppose. The sheep would have been the sex.

Zwartbles 2, Rottweilers 0

Cast of Characters

Fred. An Organic Gardener
Millie. A Dog Owner
Spider. Millie’s consort
Constable Peter. A PSNI Officer
Constable Paul. Another PSNI Officer

The Scene: A small market garden. Adjacent to the market garden is a meadow where a small flock of sheep are grazing peacefully. Fred is tipping a barrow load of compost on to a heap when he sees Millie who is just outside the market garden gate. She is unfastening the leashes on two large and rather fat Rottweilers.

Fred: Have I not told you before about letting those dogs loose near those sheep? Can you not see that sign I have up?

Millie: Why don’t you mind your own business? My dogs’ll not go near your oul sheep.

Millie is wrong about this as the dogs are already running into the field with the sheep. The sheep are cornered at the bottom of the field. The dogs are barking and snapping at them. Then out of the huddle comes the ram. He is a fine large specimen of a pedigree Zwartble. He lowers his head and rams the nearest dog right between the eyes. The dog runs off stunned and whimpering softly. The other dog goes for the ram. The ram undaunted charges into its side and it is obvious that this dog has been hurt. Millie starts screeching.

Millie: Luck at my dog. That dog is hurt. You owe me a lot of money mister. There’s going to be big vet’s bills to pay. That’s if the dog doesn’t die. That dog’s worth a fortune. He’s got a pedigree as long as your arm. You are going to be paying me big money mister!

Fred: Money you say? Aye maybe I do owe ye a lot of money. And maybe I don’t. What do you say we get the police here and hear what they have to say?

Millie: You get the police if you like. I’m ringing my husband. He’s going to have plenty to say to you about this let me tell you!

Ten minutes later. The stunned dog is hiding behind Millie. The hurt dog is lying on its side panting. Spider arrives. In the distance a police car is slowly approaching.

Spider: What the fuck is going on here? What have you done to my dog?

Fred: I’ve done nothing to your dog but the ram has probably cracked his ribs. I’d get him to a vet pretty quick if I were you.

Spider: The vet? Aye and you’ll be paying the bill!

Fred. We’ll see.

Spider: You will. Let me assure you, you will pay for this. One way or another.

Millie: Aye you’ll pay. We know boys who’ll make you pay. Don’t we Spider?

Spider: Too fucking right. The main boy in Harrykeel is a very good friend of ours. We’re very well connected.

Fred: Well that’s very nice for you. Here’s the police. Let’s hear what they have to say.

Millie: This boy here is keeping a dangerous animal in that field and it has half kilt our dog. Luck at him lying there!

Constable Peter: You had the dogs off the lead.

Millie: Aye but that’s not the point…

Constable Peter: And Mr Carr has a big sign up on the gate warning people to keep their dogs on a lead.

Millie: Aye but the dogs were off the lead outside his place.

Constable Peter: But they ran straight into the field where the sheep were. You hadn’t those dogs under control. I don’t see how Mr Carr could have done any more to protect your dogs.

Millie: But that’s ridiculous.

Constable Peter: Tell me Mr Carr, do you have a shotgun?

Fred. No I don’t.

Constable Peter: Well you’d be entitled to have a shotgun. And then you’d be able to shoot any dog that worried your sheep.

Millie: (screeching) Whaaaat! That cannot be right!

Constable Peter: I assure you it is. Isn’t that correct Constable Paul?

Constable Paul: That is correct. And Madam I’d advise you take your dog to a vet immediately.

THE END

What Happened Next

There was no word of the injured dog. Fred hasn’t seen Millie, Spider or their dogs since.

Fred did not lose much sleep over the promised visit from the Head Man of the Paramilitaries.

He decided against getting a shotgun. The Zwartbles can take care of themselves..