Going Over Home

Martha Byrne

28th July 1926 - 27th April 2011

I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
Travelling through this world of woe
There is no sickness, toil nor danger
In that bright land to which I go
I'm going there to see my Father
And all my loved ones who've gone on
I'm just going over Jordan
I'm just going over home

I know dark clouds will gather 'round me
I know my way is hard and steep
But beauteous fields arise before me
Where God's redeemed their vigils keep
I'm going there to see my mother
She said she'd meet me when I come
So I'm just going over Jordan
I'm just going over home

baby reared by wolves

baby reared by wolves, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Mama Wolf is so kind that she went to the Mace and bought her cub a yogurt. It made a refreshing change from morsels of raw rabbit.

Another Normal Day

I woke just before 7am and decided not to get up. Immediately I fell into dreams. I dreamed that my mother was dying and that I held her in my arms and would not let her go. We lived in a succession of damp, dilapidated and tumbledown sheds and still I would not let her go. She got frailer and smaller and eventually she was as small as a baby. She was my baby, she was also another person called Shirley and still she was my mother. She was dying and I had to get her a coffin. She was small enough to fit in an infant's casket but I knew that because she had been a woman I needed to get her a woman-sized coffin.

These are the dreams I have without opiates. God only knows what Matty dreams. She told my sister, in one of her lucid moments, that it was like 'being in two places at once.'

Today was my Miss Martha day. We went to Matty's then out for a run with Great Aunt Ganching (with whom Miss Martha has become most enamoured). Next home to see Bert, a picnic on the lawn and a very relaxing afternoon with toys and pigs and dogs.

When Martha went home I spent a while watering the vegetables (this will be my role and it is a very important one) and then gathering sticks, a proper outdoor barbecue (no charcoal) and pork chops, spinach and baked potatoes for supper.

Another normal day. Tomorrow I go shopping for funeral clothes.

Off Out

Off out to Matty's house now for another day of nothing much. There will be phone calls and visitors and little walks and lots of talks.

Matty is full of dreams and is slowly, very slowly, slipping away from us.

Happy Birthday Ha!

watching the monkeys, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Being Normal

We went to the zoo today, Martha and Hannah and Bert and I. And we had a most enjoyable day. Of course, like all right-thinking people, I'm in several minds about zoos - there are animals that seem to like it well enough and there are others that give me the impression that living in captivity isn't that great. The African wild dogs looked just like any depressed dog that has to live in a run. And the lowland gorillas looked as if their life was very dreary too. But Miss Martha knows nothing of these dilemmas and she mostly had a very good time. There was the problem of the hills that she kept wanting to run down and we kept not wanting her to for fear of falling over. There were still a few tumbles despite our best efforts. Sadly these occurred just around about the time we were seeing the ring-tailed lemurs which were my best thing. I loved it that they refused to be confined to their area and incorporated workmen's vans as a part of their territory. Big up to those workmen who were more than happy to share their van with their furry chums.

Part of our day out was in honour of Hannah who has a birthday tomorrow. Not a significant one as she's one year off that. But a birthday none the less. And Hannah, or Ha!, as Martha calls her, is a very good person to have around when Miss Martha is part of the company. Ha! has a certain energy and youthfulness that comes into good effect when Nellybert has a very energetic toddler to keep care of.

So. Being normal. A day at the zoo. Always in my mind when being normal is that Matty, the head of our family, our senior member is dying. And that her time on this earth is coming close, very close, to it's end. After our normal day out we called to the home place where Leitrim Sister, our Dee! is in charge and where Bert made Dee! a cup of tea and we talked with our Senior Martha and she was pleased to see us, particularly Miss Martha, and we relished it because soon, very soon she is going to be so preoccupied with her business of dying that she will not be able to welcome us like that.

But for now - being normal. It's the best we can do.

Bert and Martha at the Zoo

viewing penguins, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

The Garden Where The Praties Grow

Job done

Today was a good day and I started preparing for it yesterday when I persuaded Bert that he and I should begin our outdoor potato drills. He had many objections.

We haven't any seed.

We'll go and see Frank at Slemish Market Garden and buy some.

It's an awful lot of work for just the two of us.

And aren't we well able for it?

There was chat about leaving it to Monday but when the weather forecast was consulted I decided that it was Sunday or never.

We went to the Slemish Market Garden and were as impressed as always. I can't wait to sneak back another day and gather up some more perennials for my decorative garden. Not today though because we were in serious vegetable mode.

I had some misgivings myself at the start. It was a lot of work. But we got into it, not minding the dogs that were hanging around relaxing while we worked like dogs. There was rotavating, and dung spreading and dropping and earthing. Rachael turned up with an hour to spare and then there was a frenzy of dung spreading and spud dropping. Rachael works at a speed no ordinary mortal can compete with. After the potatoes she sowed beans in moments and then dashed off to pick up daughter from one place and husband another place.*

I've learned a lot from that girl. She believes in working hard and fast. From her example (and FlyLady) I have discovered that most dreary household tasks actually take tiny amounts of time to complete, compared to the amounts of time a person might put in atrophying in front of a computer screen. For example I have discovered that I can mop my scullery and hall in less than three minutes. Impressive? I certainly thought so.

So after around four hours we were able to look at what we had achieved and feel rather pleased with ourselves. Those potatoes are going to taste very good. The first ones ever in my life that will be seasoned with the memory-scent of well-rotted dung and fresh sweat.

As I said, it was a good day, one I was glad of. The day before was a good enough day too. I spent a good part of it with my mother. She had a big setback this week and is not the better of it yet, although she is better than she was at the start of the week. She has been in bed continuously all of last week, too weak to get up. Her urinary functions are not going well and she has a catheter fitted. She is rather confused but still knows who everyone is and knows what is going on. I'm afraid that she will not gain back the ground she has lost. But.... she is still Matty, she still gives her family, her carers and her visitors beautiful welcoming smiles and yesterday she put a bet on the Grand National and had fish and chips for her tea.

* the pub

Turf Castles

turf castles, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Just a random picture from one of my favourite places on earth - the moss at Drumkeeran.

No Well

Like everyone else who can, I visit my mum on Mother's Day and yesterday was no exception. Just like always she was surrounded by cards and flowers and presents. Just like always the family living far away called to wish her happy Mother's Day. What was different yesterday was that Matty wasn't well enough to talk to her far away children nor was she able to take much interest in her cards or presents.

Matty has had a bit of a setback - another urinary tract infection and she couldn't get up today. The Doctor came, prescribed another course of antibiotics and said she should be feeling better in a few days.

Tricia and her little dog left this morning. Miss Macy was very excited to be going back to Kerry but my sister felt terrible about leaving. I watched her car until it was out of sight and I felt terribly sorry for her. All day the sight of Miss Macy's little basket has saddened me. I miss that little dog.

Usually, when I am here I feel fine. Today I feel lost and a bit scared. But maybe Doctor's right and in just a day or two Matty will be feeling much better.

Wobbly Wiggler

Yesterday one of the younger members of our gardening cooperative was over. She was telling me that she has several very wobbly teeth. I told her that, I too, had a wobbly one. It was an excellent chance for me, as a boring adult, to give the little'un one of my earnest homilies. I grabbed the opportunity and lectured Sylvie on how important it is to brush and take care of teeth when you are young because gnashers have to last you a long time and mine aren't going to. And there was lots of wobbling and clacking to prove my point.

Later on I was wobbling and wiggling my little front tooth that has been giving me so much annoyance. And as I wobbled it back and forth and wiggled it up and down I noticed that it wasn't even the least bit uncomfortable. Next thing it was out without even a twinge. At first I was elated - then I quickly deflated. I wish someone had given me an earnest homily when I was young and impressionable.

Bert and the Baby

Bert was extremely miffed when he heard that Miss Martha was going to the zoo.

But we were for taking her to the zoo!

And we will still be taking her.

But she'll already have seen everything. It won't be as exciting for her.

It will still be exciting for her. She's only eighteen months old. She doesn't get jaded as easily as we do.

Bert doesn't really understand babies yet. Take the other day.

We were all sitting in a row eating bowls of yummy porridge. Well. Bert and I were. Martha was just looking at hers. I wasn't too worried as she'd already had her breakfast. When Bert had his all scoffed he said,

Martha's not going to eat that. I may as well have it.

So he removed her bowl from her and started to eat it. She stared at him. She was astonished. Her expression seemed to say - I cannot believe you just did that. She turned to me and the expression on her face said - Can you believe he just did that? Then she turned to look at the empty place where her little bowl had been and she gave a long, sad sigh. Bert was mortified. He gave the child her porridge back. She picked up her little pink spoon and she slowly, methodically worked her way through it. When she was almost done she picked up the bowl and drank it's contents until the bowl shone as if it had been licked by a diligent dog. Bert's new name? Goldilocks. I think he'll be leaving the Baby Bear's porridge alone from now on.

When I'm 64

That is the age at which I will now receive a state pension.

Oh well. I think I shall have to become a bank robber.

Don't tell anyone I said that.

Joking aside - it was terribly unjust that women were entitled to a pension five years before men. What was that all about? And it's not as if 60 is even old these days. Or so I like to kid myself.

It's the kids I feel sorry for. There they'll be trying to get a foot on the career ladder starting with something humble and character-forming like working the aisles in B&Q or Tescos and there will be all the old codgers like me taking their jobs. And I will too - if the bank robbing thing doesn't work out.

Boiler Suit Days

Martha models her new boiler suit (Blue Castle same as Bert wears) while Rusty and Lily look on. Rusty is the sneering pig in the middle of the picture. He looks like he might be saying something hateful. Look at his twisted mouth. And Lily looks as if she's hearing some nasty comment. What do you think he might be saying?

Clearing My Head

The right side of the attic

I'm not very 'feng shui' in the attic department. Apparently it's supposed to be hard to look forward to the future when there's so much clutter "hanging over your head." I don't want my children to have to go up there and deal with all that shite when I'm not able to. My father had the right idea. He did not allow anything to be stored in the roof space. But then he did have lots of big sheds. We have sheds too but they are Bert's and they aren't as dry as Daddy's were.

I always wanted an attic and was determined we'd have an accessible one when this house was being renovated. In the story books I read as a child they were always exciting places full of treasure. You'd open a trunk and it would be full of the most wonderful things from the olden days. There would be ivory fans, embroidered shawls and silken dresses your Granny used to wear. There would be hand written journals and carvings and mysterious old photographs. There would be beads and toys and ancient maps.

Not so in my childhood home. Granny's old dresses ended up as cleaning rags and the only thing in our attic was spiders and flittery things like bats and trapped birds.

The left side of the attic

There is no Victorian or Edwardian treasure in my attic. For sure there are old things up there - the detritus of generations. Bert's old pram is there. Pearlie's amazing collection of unused souvenir tea towels is there. And all those ornamental cats from when I had a cat collection. The attic is also full of rucksacks. Whoever uses rucksacks now?

The Protestant side of the attic

The really old stuff comes from Bert's side of the family. There are bits and pieces of Orange and Black regalia from when his father and uncles were in those orders. I really don't know what to do with those.

The Catholic side of the attic

And then there is this Sacred Heart picture that Matty gave me when I first got my own house. I haven't had it on the wall for decades but I still don't want to throw it out. A lot of ancestor issues there. So - if anyone wants me I'll be in the attic going through all the Christmas cards Bert ever received from 1959 to 1972. Or I might be perusing Pearlie's school books from the 1930s.

Catching Up

Thursday was a busy, busy day getting everything at Matty's 'redd up' for Kerry Sister coming. And looking after Miss Martha with Hannah's help. I made a lot of soup and went to Randalstown Play Park which is one of Martha's favourite places. While we were there she mastered the low, low swing.

Swing low sweet Miss Martha

On Friday we went out for dinner at a friend's house. Happy days for us that Wee Les and his lady are foodies. Please forgive Nellybert anyone else who has ever cooked for us, but that was the most delicious meal that anyone has ever given us. And there were four desserts!

Earlier on Saturday we got new baby calves. They will be called Poppy and Zillah. They're awfully small and keep stepping delicately out between the bars of the stall.

Poppy makes a break for freedom

Saturday was spent decluttering, tackling hotspots, swishing & swiping and shining my sink. Guess who's been on the FlyLady site? After all that I got good and drunk.

Today more swishing and swiping and a big huff at Bert for not bringing down his dirty laundry the second I asked him. I really must get a life. And I must stop eating so many desserts so that I won't have any more distressing conversations with the Honest Man from Portglenone. But that's another blog post for another day.

Down On One Knee. Not!

According to the Daily Mail, one in four brides are not happy with the way their partners proposed. Humph! Silly tarts methinks. Shouldn't they just be glad that they got proposed to at all?

Anyways this young friend of mine got proposed to in Paris. Which is pretty romantic by most people's standards. It was a surprise (she says and I believe her) but this is what happened. She and her beloved landed at their hotel and he suggested a walk. Little did she know he was looking for a properly romantic place to drop to one knee. They walked and they walked. Her feet were killing her. She has a propensity for sexy footwear. Nelly would have been wearing hiking boots. Eventually her beau found a place that he deemed suitable for the occasion. They sat down (she very gratefully) on a bench. He popped the question, there was a rat looking at them (she said yes) it was dirty ol' Paris after all. These two are going to be very happy - I feel that in my water.

The Nellybert proposal? It was the 29th February 2008. Drink had been taken. The time was probably around a quarter to twelve. I looked into his eyes, and said, "Will you marry me?" He gazed at me all google-eyed said, "Yes." Next day I told everyone we were engaged. Think it was the following August we got married. That's what I call timing. We didn't bother with an engagement ring. Or a rat.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the last day of my current stint in the Matty House. It's been the best part of three weeks with a couple of very short breaks home. And tomorrow will be a good day. I will have the company of Miss Martha from 9am and Miss Hannah is coming at midday to help me out as she has done for three Thursdays in a row. All being well we are going to Randalstown play park when J. from Marie Curie comes to sit with Matty for a while.

The amazing Matty keeps in good spirits although she does seem to get more tired and weary with every passing day. We've been up and down more often than her ripple bed. With hindsight this has been a good time even though I'm exhausted too. I still believe it was worth leaving work for.

Not to say that there haven't been downsides. I just don't want to think about them right now for tomorrow night I'm going home to Bert, the dogs, the pigs and the cats in exactly that order.

Mum's Field.

Mum's Field., originally uploaded by triciamorimori.

This is something like the view I would have from the kitchen window, where I currently sit, if that window wasn't all steamed up from the vegetable broth I have on the hob. The extractor fan is far too noisy and would disturb my present tranquillity. Matty is napping and the only sounds I can hear are the pipple of the broth, the churn of the washing machine and a constant hum of traffic from the Lisnevenagh Road.

The light in Tricia's photograph is so beautiful and begs to be shared.

Cheeky Bitch

Old girls and their matching trews

Matty was poorly yesterday with lots of cramping in her stomach. We brought out the heavy duty painkillers which made her quite woozy. Last night, after I'd gone to bed, she was really sick. I heard the noises and thought at first that it was burglars. Hell no! Nothing as uncomplicated as that - just Matty throwing up. I got it sorted. This morning she was a bit confused, thought it was seven in the evening instead of the morning.

The doctor called and told us that it might just have been a stomach bug. She's not in bad form at all. She lay and dozed all through 'Coronation Street' and had to be woken up to go to bed. I teased her about how she instructed the carer and myself as to how she'd get to her feet from a lying position. I said,

You're good at this. You must have been listening to the physio. You could train physios yourself.

She liked this.

The carer told me later that Matty said I was a 'cheeky bitch' and went off to her bed laughing about training physios. That's my Matty. Still got the spirit.