Tá cearca ann is ál sicín
I like to think that I have a good memory and recall but sometimes I come across something that brings to the immediate thoughts memories of times or things that had been filed away in the deep archives, covered in mental dust, not referenced for years.
Last Saturday was one such day.
I school, Irish would not have been a favourite subject, by any means. It is only of late that I have returned to Conversational Irish class and have been learning the language and expression willingly and with enthusiasm. Back then, obligation stood in the shoes of willingness. For enthusiasm, read acceptance.
Last Saturday, we stopped at the excellent Tea Rooms in Ballyvaughan, An Féar Gorta.
Reading the framed items on the wall, the memory was stoked into action – to primary school, I think; to a time when I could actually picture such an upside-down world of creatures; to a time that had not been visited since in all likelihood.
Reading the poem last Saturday, the first two or three verses came back very quickly which is more remarkable as I was and am one not to learn poetry by rote, for exams or otherwise.
I was reciting it in my brain at the same rhythm of forty years ago.
Now to introduce my eight year old to it, before it gets associated with education and learning and filed away in dark dusty places as I did. Hopefully, it will be associated with adventure, imagination, and what might be happening at night at the back of the garden.
Hopefully, it will be enjoyed.
Cúl an Tí