Last Saturday, I was delighted to spot this sign – they are not gone after all.
I did enjoy my cup of tea in their pop-up location at the Firkin Crane that day. I hope that their search for a new location is successful and swift.
Using signs, advertisements and messages as the inspiration for observation and comment - enlightened and otherwise
A by-product of this blog entry is that I learnt that the quote was not ‘News of my death have been greatly exaggerated’ and that the source was Mark Twain.
Last Saturday, I was delighted to spot this sign – they are not gone after all. I did enjoy my cup of tea in their pop-up location at the Firkin Crane that day. I hope that their search for a new location is successful and swift.
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I spotted this art installation on a utility chamber at the corner of Grattan Street and Adelaide Street. More than once, I have commented that I consider these to be ideal platforms for art. This message does appear to be the same author as Stay Sharp but it looks like the Celtic Corpse years have had an effect on him/her – like many of us. Last weekend, I was out and about. Once more, I was looking up. I was well impressed with these gutter brackets in Chapel St. Seven turned timber bearers with lovely moulded cast metal brackets. As there are also some of the half-round brackets, I wonder if they are supporting the gutter or a decorative moulding. I suspect it will be some time before I will be surprised by anything as nice.
For the past few years, I have been interested in the adoption by the Catholic Church of pagan traditions, Pattern Days, and Holy Wells.
Over the weekend, I spotted on Louise Nugent’s blog details of a talk next Friday on the Celtic and Christian aspects of St. Brigit. I must try to re-organise my week to be free to get to the Triskel for that. A plaque can only tell so much.
I took a photograph of this plaque on Pearse Street when in Dublin last October. It is one of only four Civil War/War of Independence Memorials that I have photographed in Dublin – this is a factor of how frequently I am in Dublin rather than the number that actually exist. Regardless, I have yet to get those four (and those in Cork) up on the website similar to those in Limerick and Kerry. I was reminded of the plaque when reading The Irish Story today. Many thanks to John Dorney for the education. Six cans for €11 – it looks fairly obvious.
Until one reads the advertising sticker on the door of the chiller. The sticker includes an image of the box with €11 on it. But the sticker says €10. Maybe the Marketing & Promotions Department did a bit too much sampling. Last week, I was in a house in Cork and was very pleasantly surprised to come across this little sign on the back of the hot press door. It brought a number of thoughts. That there was a time when three digits were sufficient to uniquely identify all the telephones in Cork – so no more than 999 telephone lines, and that property on Merchant’s Quay was one. That the plumber must have been one of the first to leave his number in the hot press as a marketing reminder for when there might be a problem. That Merchants Quay as in the photograph hanging in Dan Lowry’s was a much nicer streetscape then rather than now. Did you ever wonder as to Book of Condolences. Do they get sent to someone or are they kept at City Hall? Are they like Christmas cards, that one throws out a few weeks later? Or are they kept for a while, and then thrown out when covered in dust. Is there someone who reads all the messages? Or is the purpose a benefit to the citizens of Cork in allowing them to pen their expressions? I do not know the answers to any of these questions. Elbow Lane, Cork Just when I thought I have photographed all, another appears. Nearly two years ago, I noted the Fire Cock sign on the then Moderne building. Some guidance from The Oracle as to the use of the FC markers followed by the Fire Hydrant to the now yellow H. Following on from some recent hopper finds, I have been looking upwards. Yesterday, I went down Elbow Lane tempted by some more hoppers only to find a F.C. plaque that had escaped me upto now. That brings the total to 91 – until I find another in hiding. I understand that the current trend is to include the diameter (200mm) and the depth (4m).
My obsessive compulsive tendencies have found a new outlet. But it did provide some new knowledge. I have been photographing and recording dates on buildings in Cork and have part-uploaded to the website. Last week’s blog on the lovely hopper at Cash’s has set me off on another track – photographing the different hoppers in Cork, particularly those with individual engravings, mouldings or designs. There I was today, not quite minding my own business as a member of the Garda Síochána was observing me and subsequently questioned my actions. I was photographing the hopper on the Bridewell Garda Station. I discovered that the 4 hoppers each have the date of 1932 – presumably the date of construction. I haven’t seen that before. p.s. Rebuke to Self
Why not finish grottos, postboxes, death memorials, dates or civil war memorials before starting another collection? Collecting must be more enjoyable than scheduling and uploading. This evening, I had to look up the dictionary for ‘repository’. Earlier today, in Limerick, I came across the term ‘Horse Repository’ for the first time. A lovely old sign. A delight to see still existing. Long may it survive.
Yesterday, I spotted this on the Grand Parade – on the façade of the building occupied by La Galerie. It looks like the main body of an old advert or crest had been removed. They left just enough to intrigue the likes of me and have us looking at old photographs as to what might have been there. Or maybe someone knows. Last week, I spotted these signs adjacent to the Mercy Hospital and it reminded me of a story that I heard a while back which I risk sharing. Frank and Mary were enjoying dinner at a lovely restaurant. The food was great and the conversation was flowing. This was their fifth outing – what some might call their fifth date, but neither had yet used that word.
Both had been single for many years – one widowed, one divorced. Both had thought that they were looking at a solitary life for the rest of their time but then they met at a house party and had begun chatting and got on well. The follow-up meetings, or dates, all went so well and they appeared to have sufficient interests in common to promote mutual interest as well as other activities to maintain one’s independent life as well as a source of discussion. All appeared to be going so very well and the topic of possibly living together had been discussed in terms of preferred location and house type. The matter of intimacy, in typical Irish fashion, had not yet been breached. Frank had mentally tussled with how to introduce this into conversation and eventually just decided to go straight for the jugular. While enjoying the coffee Frank steered the conversation. “Mary, we have not discussed intimacy and love-making.” Mary took a longer sip from her tea than she had planned and replied, “I like it infrequently.” Frank paused momentarily before asking, “Is that one word or two?” |
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