Category: Me - Reading the Signs

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Without Blood

21/7/2019

I think I am becoming a convert to the short novel.

Chess was read in two sittings over Christmas and remains on the brain. It almost made it into my #7DayBookChallenge on Twitter

This morning, as the lobster fisherman went about his business in Brandon Bay, Without Blood, all 87 short pages were enjoyed.

I was not expecting to be thinking of Terence MacSwiney and enduring pain – but I was.

Without Blood

Utility Box, LIberty St., Cork

Resisting Everything Except Temptation

11/7/2019

My bookshelves are not absolutely full – but they are not far off.

At my current pace of reading, it is quite possible that I have more unread books than I will read in the remainder of my lifetime – without even considering library visits.

It looks like full capacity may be approaching.

Last weekend, we were in Ennis. This child’s sweetshop was actually Scéal Eile, Lahinch Bookshop and Bookstop Ennis. I was disappointed to see that Scéal Eile have removed a section of their older history books for online sales only. That was one of the joys of my irregular visits, and I am not yet a full convert to online book purchases. I cannot recall an impulsive unplanned online book purchase, preferring to touch and read which had led to many of those books as yet unread.

And the day he died it was a birthday - And I noticed it was mine

8/6/2019

My Bucket List is not very long – possibly reflective of the reality that has been encountered, having learnt the lesson of not getting ones hopes up.

A night on An Blascaod Mór, a trip to the Skellings, ascending Croagh Patrick and walking part of the Camino remain on the list – as do two places inspired by songs.

Peter Gabriel’s So was probably the most played record during my later school days. Afternoons laying on the floor with the big padded headphones plugged into the three-in-one are fondly remembered. From an earlier album, Solsbury Hill has been a song to which I regularly return and a place to which I would like to spend an evening.

“And the day he died it was a birthday
And I noticed it was mine”

Cathedral by Crosby Stills & Nash had me intrigued by the above line, and I was not alone in wondering as to the birthday and the name of the soldier who died in 1799. Hugh Foulkes of the Royal Cheshire Militia died on February 2nd and appears in many websites explaining Graham Nash’s bad-trip that led to the lyrics. A tweet, similar to this, some time ago, showing the main altar only confirmed Winchester Cathedral’s position on the Bucket List.

Today represents day 159 of 2019 and in an ongoing attempt to categorise my photographic collections. It is the day when I have tweeted the 159th Street Art installation, Post Box, Ghostsign, and Roadside Memorial.

Today’s Roadside Memorial was from the N61 from Boyle to Roscommon town, erected to Gavin Lee. I had a Graham Nash-like moment when I came across this memorial, noting it was my birthday.

"Fiche bliain ag fás.
Fiche bliain faoi bhláth.
Fiche bliain ag cromadh.
Fiche bliain gur cuma ann nó as"

As the twenty years when it doesn’t matter whether I am here on not approaches ever more rapidly, today’s Roadside Memorial is another reminder of the motivational line in Shawshank Redemption – Get Busy Living, or Get Busy Dying.

The Yank

4/4/2019

‘It wasn’t that I was ungrateful to America because America had been good to me, and still is, but even the very bird prefers the area where it was hatched’
Tomás Ó Cinnéide – The Wild Rover
(trans. Pádraig Tyers)

Last July, heading for a weekend on the Dingle peninsula, I detoured at Cordal and took time-out, a few minutes of me-time in Kilmurry Cemetery. There, for the first time, I met with John O’Donoghue who had died 35 years earlier, about the time that I was receiving my Leaving Certificate results.

I have seen many nicknames on headstones on my rambles through cemeteries. The term ‘The Yank’ struck. Maybe it was because I had not long finished the book by another returned Yank, Tomás Ó Cinnéide. Maybe it sparked a memory of the tales told of Kruger.

As possibly the only returned emigrant in the area, use of ‘John O’Donoghue’ was likely to cause confusion in the area, whereas there was, most likely, just one ‘Yank’.

This morning, I spotted a tweet about a recently released book by Sinéad Moynihan on the ‘Returned Yank’ that will probably be requested of my local library in the near future.

It brought back that minute on two standing with John O’Donoghue on a lovely quiet Kerry morning.

Ghosts and Schools

5/3/2019

This Friday sees the official launch of Enda O’Flaherty’s book – The Deserted School Houses of Ireland. On Friday at 6.00, I do hope to be at the Nano Nagle Centre.

When the reminder popped up on my computer, it prompted concentrating this week on school buildings on my daily update for Ghostsigns.

Since the first day of the year, in an effort to get my photographs of Roadside Death Memorials, Postboxes, Street Art and Ghostsigns organised, I have been tweeting one of each every day. Today is Day 64.

Last week’s tweets included the Cork Model School which has been repurposed as Circuit Courthouse.

Today’s tweet is a crest in a terrazzo floor. It greeted me most school mornings for six years of my life so it brought back some memories when I spotted through an open door a while back – neither good, nor bad, just memories.

The ghost most likely has much better, and much worse, memories, for others.

The building was originally the Vincentian School until the transfer in 1888 of seminarians to Farranferris. The Christian Brothers opened the school in 1888. I do not know the date of the terrazzo flooring which from recollection goes all the way up the stairs from MacCurtain Street to above Wellington Road entrance

Cork City
Was Christian Brothers College - Now Residential
Wellington Road
Photos Taken - 18/2/1

Patrick Street, 1872
‘….On the right of the photograph is Carmichael’s drapery store, which would later become Cash & Co. On the skyline in the centre of the photograph is the Scott residence in Sidney Place that would in 1885 become Government House, the residence of the general officer commanding the Cork Military district. To the left below it was the Vincentian Schools building in St Patrick’s Place, later the Christian Brothers College.’

CORK In Old Photographs – Tim Cadogan (2003 Gill & Macmillan Ltd)

St. Ita & Players No. 6

17/1/2019

The twitter feed on Tuesday morning revealed that that day, 15th January, was the feast day of St. Ita.

That morning, I was to attend a meeting at the St. Ita’s Hospital complex in Portrane, north County Dublin. I have been told that St. Ita’s Hospital complex is that largest land bank owned by the H.S.E. in the state. Having been there a few times, that does not surprise.

I have been in Portrane over the past few years for meetings but the co-incidence of the feast date did resonate a bit and it rattled around my grey matter as a distraction.

The first time, I visited was three or four years ago. The building we were to work on had been vacated and partially cleared out. I spent a couple of hours, alone, walking around a large empty three storey former mental hospital making notes and getting to know the building. The only company were a few startled pigeons. Whether they were more startled than me, I am not sure

The closing of doors behind me did sound louder than normal. My ears were alert to any noise. I was glad to return the keys to the maintenance crew and hit the road for home. But I was luckier than the Architect. He carried out his initial inspection on a different day but was locked in with the message to give a call when ready to leave.

This was an early lesson in the quality of mobile reception. The last person spotted knocking on the windows trying to get out was not a patient, but an Architect who spent two hours longer than intended with some remnants of the previous use to keep him company.

I never asked if he took any mementoes from his trip. I did. The final clean out had not yet happened so I pocketed some old cigarette packets that lay on the floor. A reminder of the days when there was more than health warnings on the pack.

Driving home on Tuesday, I detoured through Phibsboro and Cabra. I decided to stop and photograph the replacement Liam Whelan Bridge – the plaque has been repositioned in the new concrete structure.

Turning back to the car, I noticed an old Players No. 6 ghostsign on the end wall of the building on Connaught St.

Players No. 6 was one of the boxes that I salvaged from St. Ita’s.

Too many co-incidences not to warrant a blog post.

How difficult is it to spell Cabra?

16/1/2019

Thirty three years ago, our student accommodation comprised the top half of a terraced house on the New Cabra Road.

My lasting memory is of how cold it was and of three of us using an opened out sleeping-bag for warmth on the couch watching television.

Yesterday, I parked very close to the old flat and was struck by the streetsigns – something that I never pondered in those student days.

I was first struck by the font – the ‘C’ in Cabra looked bigger than the other letters.
Then the other letters did not look as if they had been lined up correctly – the ‘R’ in ‘BÓTHAR’ and the first ‘A’ in ‘CABRAÍ’
Only then did I spot that the ‘Í’ at the end of ‘CABRAÍ’ was a painted addition – similar to Sidney Park and Cahercalla.
Logainm does suggest that ‘CABRAÍ’ is correct but the answers as to who and when the amendments were carried out is possibly a matter of local knowledge and a need-to-know basis.

A Merc on the Wall

3/1/2019

Travelling along Ballinlough Road before Christmas, our 12 year old said that the mark of the car was on the wall.

I had to double back to have a look and there is an indentation of the Mercedes Benz logo on the plaster. There is absolutely no indication as to why, when or by whom.

I smiled at the observation powers of the twelve year old – the apple does not fall far from the tree, and all that…..

Eating the Elephant

1/1/2019

Summerhill, Cork

Limerick

Bruff, Co. Limerick

It is nearly six years since I started photographing and recording many of the different things that are on display in the public realm.

It started with Grottos; Republican Memorials; Roadside Memorials and Postboxes.

This list extended to Old Ads; Ghostsigns; Street Art; Wheel Guards and Jostle Stones; and, IHS tiles. Added to that would be old covers and gratings, bootscrapers ; and, even hoppers. And that does not end the list.

The task of creating a list/database of each of the items; uploading the photographs; and, plotting on a Google Map became more daunting and off-putting the larger the list.

DOT has a lovely expression – ‘There is only one way to eat an elephant – one bite at a time’.

I have adopted that for now and hope to update one Roadside Memorial; one Ghostsign; one Postbox; and, one piece of Street Art each day – starting today. The other groupings may need to wait until 2020.

I was never one for resolutions so this is not a resolution – just a means of eating my way to the end.

O'Connell St., Dublin

Co. Waterford

Birr, Co. Offaly

Lying Well Back – Striving To Be Overweight

1/9/2018

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….

The Pope In Ireland

22/8/2018

In 2014, we spotted the vinyl record of the visit of Pope John Paul II on the walls of Ard Bia restaurant in Galway. It led to a discussion among friends and colleagues as to 1979 being a very different time.

As a teenager then, I was brought to Limerick. I remember walking back to my uncle’s house afterwards and it was as if everyone in Limerick had been at the racecourse – the roads were so quiet on way back.

My cousin went to Dublin and Galway. A neighbour of similar vintage was on a coach to Galway with a sing-song the whole way up.

I am contemplating travelling to the vigil at Tuam this Sunday. The Dublin vigil looks like it will be very well supported.

I do not know of any one person attending Knock or Phoenix Park this weekend – definitely different times.

I was very surprised to recently see reference to the visit of Pope John Paul II on a headstone at Kilbannivane Cemetery, Castleisland. I will be so much more surprised if a see in the future a reference on a headstone to the visit of Pope Francis – these are very different times.

Ard Bia, Galway - 2014

Kilbannivane Cemetery, Castleisland

Fly The Flag

14/6/2018

Civic Offices, Cork City Council

Brown Thomas Patrick Street

Driving down Patrick’s Hill this morning, I spotted a Union Jack flying on Brown Thomas building which was a pile of stones of the former Cash’s in 1920.

June 2018

December 1920 - Photo from History Ireland

City Hall had two Union Jack flags – on the new Civic Offices, and on the City Hall rebuilt in 1932 following the Burning of Cork.

City Hall, June 2018

Old City Hall after Burning of Cork - photograph from Archiseek website

Last week, I was chatting with MOC about the measures being put in place for the visit of Charles and Camilla today to Cork.

He mentioned that when Queen Elizabeth visited a few years back, he saw a Union Jack flying over City Hall. He said that it was not flying there for long as less than an hour later he looked and it was not there – he wondered if the memories of Tomás MacCurtain and Terence MacSwiney tugged at someone’s conscience.

There were no such tuggings this morning – nearly 100 years on, it is now ok to fly the Union Jack.

An Interview With Death

1/5/2018

There we were- waiting.

The 17th of January, and the first family meeting, with the care staff at Marymount Hospice, was imminent.

Curraheen, Co. Cork

I don’t know what people do to prepare for or even distract from such meetings.

Me – I read the sign and was immediately on Teanglann as I had understood that the word was spelled ‘Agallamh’. The web confirmed that ‘Agallamh’ was nominative singular and genitive plural; and that, ‘Agallaimh’ was genitive singular and nominative plural.

‘Agaill’ is another word for ‘interview’ – but no sign anywhere of ‘Agaillimh’, except on the door of this room, possibly deliberately placed there to distract the likes of me.

Births, Deaths & Marriages Registry Office, Adelaide Street

Fast forward to May Day and the Cherry Blossom petals getting a bit of a bettering with the weather.

I have taken my chair. I wait to be called to request and receive a Death Certificate. I am once again distracted, trying to remember the genitive plural – fairly sure that it ought to be ‘Agallamh’

When I took my place in Interview Room 4, I was absolutely convinced that both ‘Seomra Agallaimh’ and ‘Seomraí Agallaimh’ could not both be correct.

Getting It Right - I think

Sometimes it is good to be distracted.

Memories of Confession

24/2/2018

These steps have been closed for many years.

Growing up, I passed them regularly on my way home. In receipt of religious instruction, I travelled down them.

I cannot dance, or maybe don’t dance, but I clearly remember that there was a sense of rhythm in the moving down those steps – a sense of rhythm that was brought to mind when I walked past earlier this week, for the first time in a few years. It did allow a moment to look back.

Health & Safety affecting literary history

If a Book Could Only Talk

24/12/2017

This book was recently taken down from an attic in Ennis where it resided for probably close to 50 years. It is assumed that it belonged to the man who built the house but he was educated in Partry, Co. Mayo where he was born in 1918.

The web educates that fifth edition of the book was published in 1910. There is nothing to say whether this copy is a first or later edition.

Among those thanked in the Preface is an tAthair Pearar Ó Laoghaire, who died in 1920 and is buried in Castlelyons where Thomas Kent was reinterred in 2016. Seán Ó Catháin and Diarmaid Ó Foghludha are also thanked and, if I found the correct men, they died in 1937 and 1924 respectively, and were involved in Irish education.

sJames Griffin of Main Street in Dingle has his name written in the book. The 1911 Census reveals that there was only one James Griffin in Main Street, Dingle, the then youngest of ten children living with shopkeeper Michael and his wife, Kate. Their house was at 33 Main Street.

Having gone up and down the street on Google, very few premises have numbers on their doors. Even fewer appear to have the building number on their website or on weblistings. My best guess is that the south side (Foxy John’s; Benners) have odd numbers and the north side (Currans; St James’ Church) have the even numbers.

Number 33 would appear to be in or around McKenna’s . My mind supposes that young James Griffin, as one who had no problem with writing his name in many locations, was more interested in playing around the corner on Dykegate Street rather than perfecting the art of Irish Composition. The fact that at 4 his parents did not consider him able to speak either Irish or English, adds to that image.

I can understand how the book travelled from Partry to Ennis and why it resided in an attic for 50 years but am intrigued as to who Pat Carroll was; was he the second of three owners of the book; where was he living.

How the book got from Dingle to Partry is another riddle remaining unsolved.

I don’t think I have ever before enjoyed a book so much without reading it.