Blog Archives

Cork – Down Under

26/4/2017

Bunratty Folk Park

This may look like many other postboxes – V.R. insignia, made by H & C Smith in Cork – but it has a very unusual feature – a feature that I have not seen on any other postbox, and I have photographed over 850 boxes – new, old, disused, red, green, or many different manufacturers.

There have been more than a few blogs hereabout on various matters relating to postboxes – alternatives use; additional insignia; Queen Elizabeth; old; older; and, oldest.

This postbox, as manufactured in Cork, is likely to have seen service in Ireland. It currently resides in the Bunratty Folk Park where we spent a very pleasant and pleasurable afternoon on Easter Saturday. I do recommend a visit.

There is a second box in the village section of Bunratty – another red box; Victoria Regina; but a Penfolds postbox, similar to Skibbereen.

Bunratty Folk Park

Sbibbereen, Co. Cork

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Patrick Costelloe - from Boolteens to New Zealand

25/4/2017

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On Sunday, I was returning from my conversational Irish weekend, happy and relaxed. I decided to go along some roads not before travelled by me. I took a stroll through the cemetery at Kiltallagh, outside Castlemaine.

I met with the name of Patrick Costelloe.
I was particularly struck by the fern. To my recollection, this is the first time that I have seen a CWGC headstone with the New Zealand insignia, for someone that served in the New Zealand forces, and I have seen a few in my cemetery visits. This caused to be pause a while longer.

A tweet today from the Imperial War Museum educated that the Haka was first heard and seen by many in Europe in the fields of World War 1 when performed by New Zealand soldiers. This reminded me of Dave Gallaher.

I knew that Irishmen fought in the armies of very many different countries in World War 1. Dave Gallaher from Donegal was captain of the first All Blacks team to tour in 1905, called the Original All Blacks. He died after the Battle of Broodseinde on October 4th, 1917, shortly before his forty-fourth birthday.

Patrick Costelloe died in September 1915, less than 3 months after departing from Wellington His father was from Boolteens on the Dingle peninsula. He was born in Castlemaine and was single when he died at the age of 25 years. He is remembered on the cenotaph in Auckland.

This morning, the web advised that today is Anzac Day. It is 102 years since the Australian and New Zealand forces landing at Gallipoli. It is also the day upon which New Zealand and Australia commemorates their soldiers who were killed in war, and honours returned servicemen and women.

It has been only two days since I first learned of Patrick Costelloe. I have wondered why he travelled so far from Boolteens.

For Anzac Day, I thought I’d share his name.

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Cow’s Head

14/4/2017

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We often visit Ennis – you might have gathered that from the number of blog posts.

Our butcher of choice in Ennis is Kelly’s in The Market – absolutely lovely beef. I have been in the shop a few times a year for many years. I have walked past very much more frequently – regularly on the way to Scéal Eile.

It was only today that I noticed the fascia on the shopfront.

Maybe it is new. Maybe it has only recently been redecorated. Ot maybe those heads passed me by for so long.

Regardless of the reason why I didn’t see them before, I do like.

I think they are great.

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Stealing The Eye Out Of Your Head

13/4/2017

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Or should I say, ‘Stealing the ‘I’ from your alarm system’.

I spotted this van this morning on the way for my coffee fix.

I first wondered if ‘NTRUDER’ was a branded alarm system. Then I noted that ‘INTRUDER’ was printed elsewhere on the vehicle.

I walked on smiling in admiration at the person who stole from a security company.

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Going, Going, Gone

11/4/2017

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I took this photograph at lunchtime today, 11th April.

I was somewhat puzzled at the message on what was obviously a vacated premises.

It appears that the ‘move’ has already started – but may not be finished with new premises.

Is ‘will re-open at new premises on 25th April’ more correct.

Does ‘We are moving’ not have a connotation that they will be remaining until that date, 25th April?

Maybe I need to learn all of the possible uses of the verb, ‘move’.

Maybe, just like ‘Hearing’, it is an advanced notice.

Or maybe I need to learn to ignore some signs…..

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Ghost of My Past

5/4/2017

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In the early 1980’s, the Grosvenor Bar was a regular haunt for those in my final years of school – a time before strict i.d. for underage drinking.

I took to alcohol later in life so was only in the Grosvenor on a small few occasions but its name, and particularly the silent ‘s’, are part of my history.

The Archive magazine has a piece where the owner of the Grosvenor said that the gardens of the Trinity Presbyterian Church were used for overnight grazing by drovers (p23).

For many years now, Brú Bar & Hostel has operated from the premises with a white frontage.

But driving home this evening, MacCurtain St brought me back thirty-plus years as the ghost of The Grosvenor Bar has reappeared.

It is probably beyond hope that the will retain this ghost……

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X marks the spot – but not as Gaeilge

2/4/2017

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It is probably a question better suited to a high stool than a Table Quiz.

‘How many letters in the Irish alphabet?’ can provoke debate as to whether ‘á’ is a different letter to ‘a’; whether ‘ċ’ is a different letter to ‘ch’; and, they are before one gets to the incorporation of new words such as ‘X-gatháim’ and‘vacsaín’.

The Irish Grammar Book advises that the Irish language comprises 18 letters. The remaining 8 – j k q v w x y z – ‘are sometimes used in foreign loan words or in mathematical or scientific terminology’.

I have recently been cataloguing the thousands of streetname signs that I have photographed. I smiled at this one in the St. Luke’s Cross area of Cork.

The ‘x’ jumped out at me immediately – an ‘x’ in the Gaelic script.

The dimensions of the letter ‘x’ do look different to the rest. Maybe the signmaker was a Gaelgóir and wanted to point out the abuse of the Irish alphabet – to my eyes he succeeded.

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Tabula Rasa

1/4/2017

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When I first heard of the expression ‘Tabula Rasa’, I assumed that it was an Irish expression incorporated into English – I was wrong, but did not learn that for a while. The phrase took up residence as a curiosity in my brain, something on which more information was to be sought. It remained untouched for over two years until this week.

My latest bug, or obsessive compulsive tendency, germinated last week at the Stone Symposium in Ahakista. The mind cleansing and calming effect of carving letters into stone was a complete joy – no thoughts of emails, work or finances – just concentration on the depth and shape of the task at hand, admittedly with the occasional contemplation of aches.

When singing the praises of the stone carving with NK, he educated me as to a saying of Cuan Mhuire – you must work the hands to free the mind. It so worked with me that Friday on Sheep’s Head.

Mine

Not Mine

The next day, still buzzing from the stonework, GF and I enthused about the satisfaction and mind clearing of grass cutting – time alone to forget everything else.

On a tea break at the Stone Symposium, I was asking one of the instructors, as to where one might purchase a chisel and hammer if one wanted to practice at home. Ruairí Dennison gave me the name a website – one with a strange name, tab v larasa.

That is the actual address - tabvlarasa.com – but on the site, maybe an Italian thing, but the ‘v’ becomes a ‘u’ and it reads ‘Tabularasa’.

Cue - Eureka moment.

My tools have been ordered and the dictionaries have been checked – why did I ever doubt Gabriel Rosenstock and the power of the haiku.

Poetry has, on occasions more frequently of late than before, given me moments to absorb and forget everything else – not for long, but definitely a moment to stop the waltzer and forget all.

I am hoping that those forget-everything periods will be longer when I hit metal into stone and try to do one good letter – perfect would be great, but may be beyond the time available.

Until the chisel arrives from Italy, The Flea Market In Valparaíso has come off the shelf and will go into work bag for those chill-out minutes.

“Is maith nach bhfuil teorainn leis an gcuinne
Nó bheimis inár ngealtaibh ar fad.’

Gabriel Rosenstock

“It is good that the universe is limitless
Or we would all be flaming lunatics”

Gabriel Rosenstock

Not Mine

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MIXED MESSAGES.

Cork – Down Under

Patrick Costelloe - from Boolteens to New Zealand

Cow’s Head

Stealing The Eye Out Of Your Head

Going, Going, Gone

Ghost of My Past

X marks the spot – but not as Gaeilge

Tabula Rasa

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