and this is not about a Derby County player inebriated after a successful cup final.
I am making best guess that this is a ram. The face is definitely more mouse like but given a choice of bull, goat, ram or wildebeest, I’ll stick with ram.
I remember reading that it was the writer’s responsibility as to spelling. The sub-editor’s responsibility did not extend that far.
Last week, I showed a printer of commercial signs some of the errors that gave rise to blog pages hereabout. As well as smiles and even a laugh, I did receive a response that the proof is always sent to the customer to check.
Just like builders, dry cleaners and barbers, it is the skill of the seamstress or garment maker rather than their proofreading ability that concerns most…….
If I only had time to write all the blog posts that are rattling around my brain. There are so many photographs foldered on the drive, just awaiting some words to be uploaded here.
These bugs and creepy crawlies were not even in the foldered category this morning. There were in the large grouping or of 250 days of photographs in the ‘To Be Foldered’ folder – but no longer, thanks to a tweet.
This morning, Look UpLondon’s post was about the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine. When I saw the images, it reminded me of the building I went past last December.
The blog post reminded me of everything that impressed at the time and which was photographed:
To learn about the building, take thyself off to LookUpLondon – it will be time well spent.
This afternoon, I had an ‘I Wonder’ moment.
These sometimes convert into ‘Eureka’ moments when one goes back to research and check. Often, the moment is merely a joining of curious connections.
It is probably over 25 years since I was in the Five Alley premises, on the Limerick Road, just outside Nenagh. The first time I heard the name, my mind processed ‘Fivelly’ – only when I arrived at the premises, I learned the true spelling.
I cannot recall if I did ask of the landlady family as to whether there were five handball alleys, but that is how I had the pub and area filed away – until that ‘I wonder’ moment today.
On our walk in the Regional Park in Ballincollig, I saw the bilingual sign for Beech Walk. I pronounced the translation of beech in my head and wondered – Five Alley – Fáibhilí.
Logainm does not have a listing for Five Alley in Tipperary. There is one in Co. Offaly, north of Birr and the literal translation of its name in Irish is The Court and the notes do refer to Handball Courts or alleys – but none in Tipperary or anywhere else in the country.
The extent of Beech trees outside Nenagh is yet to be investigated. It may only be a curious co-incidence, or I may have been right to wonder…..
This morning I spotted a tweet about the closing time at the Regional Park in Ballincollig being brought back an hour with the start of September.
My Irish vocabulary is not huge but the use of ‘geatí’ did look odd. The web confirmed that it was incorrect – ‘geataí’ being the plural of ‘geata’.
In my real life, as opposed to this virtual life, I have spoken with the official translator at Cork County Council, so am aware that she exists, or at least existed. I was very very surprised to read that only a month ago the Irish Examiner revealed that Cork County Council used Google Translate as a translation service – definitely not fit for that purpose I would have thought.
The dogs needed a walk this afternoon so we headed to the Powdermills so that I could take my own photograph of ‘Geatí’.
Within yards of the closing time sign, there is another notice regarding the locking of the gates. This uses ‘Geataí’ – curiouser and curiouser…..
Yet again, a word in Irish brings joy.
I had never stopped to think that there might be a word for rustled cattle, stolen cows, plundered bovine. My geographical and timeline placings did not put me near cattle, or plundering forays.
This morning, reading an email with latest blog post from West Cork History introduced me to Lisheenacreagh – Lisín na Creiche – Little Fort of the Cattle Spoil. The word ‘spoil’ had me intrigued.
Logainm has the spelling as Lisheennacreagh and a suggested history of ‘little fort of the prey or plunders’. WestCorkHistory has details of house being burned down in War of Independence.
‘Creach’ has now entered my vocabulary of Irish words. I cannot see it getting an outing in a sentence too often.
No photograph of a sign today – but will go looking on my next trip to West Cork if a townland plaque does exist for the safe house for the stolen cattle.
Today, I was reminded of my one-time challenge to self to become overweight.
In checking the internet for this particular rambling, it seems that the term ‘morbidly obese’ has appeared to have changed, or been dumbed down, to Obese II or even ‘very obese’. Even (most of ) the websites of the weight loss clinics have dispensed with ‘morbidly’ in favour of ‘extremely obese’, or just ‘obese’. In April 2005, my visit to I.C.U. did prompt a desire to become, just, overweight. ‘Morbidly’ does carry some import and effect.
As with many good intentions, that lasted a while and in the intervening period, I have moved closer to ‘morbidly obese’ than overweight. Maybe putting this in words may act as an incentive.
Today, a spare hour around Ennis before heading to Thomond Park brought me to Kilraghtis Cemetery where I encountered a few things never met before.
Before I even got to the cemetery, I was attacked. To open the gate to the track to the cemetery, I had to disturb some bees, or maybe wasps, that appeared to have taken up residence in the hole used to accommodate the gate lock. One of them head-butted me on my neck but no sting – strange. Exiting, I climbed the gate – lesson learned.
Within the cemetery, I learned of the diet of rabbit and pike of George Marlborough – such a diet and such a cause of death I had never seen on a headstone before.
Driving back, I wondered how long it had been since I stood on weighing scales – this ostrich preferring not to know how close the classification of ‘morbidly obese’ is becoming. It would be great to say that that was a second lesson learned – it would be, but….
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For the Fainthearted
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140 characters is usually enough
That’s How The Light Gets In
Tea and a Peach
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Pilgrimage in Medieval Ireland
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40 Shades of Life in Cork