Category: Tweets - Reading the Signs

Search the site

Grows One Night

27/3/2018

Not for the first time on our Conversational Irish walk, I was delighted with the literal translation of a new Irish word learned.

Last Summer, I had learned of an expression from West Cork – as tough as ath fhéithlean, a bi-lingual acknowledgement of the strength and stubbornness of Woodbine. I had always known the plant as Woodbine, quite probably the name was ingrained following many visits with my grandfather to those institutions that no longer exist, the tobacconist. He had a preferred mix of a number of brands for his pipe.

It was well into the second half of my years to date before I knew it was also called Honeysuckle.

A few weeks later, as we walked around Blackrock and Bessboro, I learned of “Fás Aon Oíche”, or “Grows One Night”.

I thought it was such a lovely name, perfectly describing what was in front of us – a mushroom.

Only the previous week, sitting on a high stool while on holidays, Tim imparted the benefit of his local knowledge. We now know where to find mushrooms while on holidays.

A few days after that Conversational Irish walk, I headed west for the Dingle peninsula to pack up everything and everyone – the return home after the Kerry Summer Experience. Before leaving that Saturday, I headed out early and collected a cap-full of mushrooms that had sprouted up that night. It remains my most recent meal on the Dingle peninsula.

I can still recall the buzz of foraging and the flavours enjoyed.

A tweet last weekend from Robert Macfarlane on ‘puhpowee’, a native North American word for the force that pushes mushrooms up overnight, assisted in getting this blog from my brain into the virtual world.

It has also prompted a separate section of other words in Irish that brought a smile with their literal translations – Head of a Cat; Seal’s Snot; and, others. Hopefully, even more will be added over time.

Set in Stone

25/3/2018

I didn’t make it back to the West Cork Stone Symposium. It was on this weekend but time, and life, didn’t allow me a spare day. I did order my chisels from TabulaRasa – I write that more as a rebuke and reminder to self, rather than a piece of information for readers.

When visiting Paris in November 2016, I spotted this engraver adding to the writings on stone surrounding a grave. I could have spent an hour or more just watching. Disneyland was calling for a ten year old so I did not have that luxury, but in the few minutes that I stood and admired, I was struck by the difficulty in the stance of the craftsman; his patience; and, the peace of the cemetery.

Leaving Cimetiére de Montmartre that morning, I remembered when, less than two weeks previous, on another lovely morning, we took time out of the Bank Holiday weekend to visit another cemetery – in Crosshaven when I left puzzled as to the correction made in a headstone.

I have blogged previously as to some stone engraving that might be considered less than perfect. Unlike the headstone at St. Bartholomew’s in Kinneigh, I did not for a moment consider this to be the work of a family relative.

I have on a few occasions pondered why the correction was made and allowed stand. I would have thought that many would have erected a new stone.

Maybe Mr. Porteous was a bit of a joker and wanted the last laugh at those left behind.

Maybe, it was deliberate to prompt passers-by, such as yours truly, to pause a while longer and think of Joseph McNeil Porteous – if so, it worked.

The tweets earlier today on other headstone corrections reminded me again of Joseph Porteous and prompted this rambling.

Three Cathedrals, A Funeral and A Painting

17/3/2018

Sketch for the Funeral of Terence MacSwiney, Lord Mayor of Cork 1920 by Sir John Lavery

Above is a painting by Sir John Lavery held in Crawford Art Gallery.

Below are photographs of the interiors of three Cathedrals.

Take your pick.

Cathedral of St. Mary & St Anne, Cork

Southwark Cathedral

Cathedral of St George, Southwark

This blog post has been rambling around my brain for over two years – hopefully it will not be as long when you get to the end.

Lucky Coins

15/3/2018

With the Taoiseach in the White House today, I was reminded as to a story told, possibly with some truth, of metal detectors picking up some strange findings in the White House a while back.

Last December, I had a novel experience accompanied by nuggets of information – local and traditional – that many might consider trivia, but which I believe are pure gems.

It was my first visit to the refurbishment of and extension to a cottage on one of the hills looking down on the city. This is my fourth decade attending building sites but that December Friday was the first time a client arrived to a site meeting with a pot of homemade hearty soup accompanied by some bread and cheese – very welcome they were, as the regular cold wind was blowing up the hill to compliment the damp environment of a house being plastered.

A sheet of plywood acted as the table and it was standing room only. It was not exactly homely, but the food put a stop to all talk of construction details and contract issues. We fell into general chatter which then veered towards traditions.

I had known of Gobnait’s Measure being used as a good luck charm for those in a building. I had visited the house where one of one of the Eucharistic Tiles was on a ledge over the front door to bless all those who enter the house. Until then, I had not known of the luck believed to follow the placing of coins in the floor of a building as it was being poured.

The builder told of a project, only two or three years previous, where the concrete lorry was on site but the builder was under clear instruction not to start pouring the floor until the client arrived with his coins to be placed in the four corners.

His colleague told a story from years back in Adrigole where the house owner left four sovereigns to be placed in the concrete floor as it was being poured. Seemingly, coins were placed in the floor slab, but not to the value of a sovereign.

As I was writing up this blog this evening, with a dirty black pint in Tigh an Cúinne, CC queried the use of a laptop in a pub. He was aware of coins in the floor – not necessarily four.

The morning of that site lunch, I had read that the architect of the White House had been born on that day in 1755 – 8th December. That lunchtime, I had heard that it is believed that the Kilkenny man, James Hoban, had placed coins in the corners of the White House which led to concern when the metal detectors went beeping, centuries later.
Whether true, embellished or pure fiction, I like.

Another blog post prompted by Folklore Thursday and the traditions associated with money……..

Not Wishing For Love Or Money

15/3/2018

A few weeks back, I declined the option of a few hours at the Kildare Village outlet centre. Instead, I enjoyed chill out time around the town of Kildare, ending in a trip around St Brigid’s Cathedral and the adjoining cemetery.

On the corner of the building that I approached, I noted that one of the corner stones had a hole from one side to the other. I was intrigued.

As I was leaving, I spotted someone looking at this closely. When I asked, I learned that this was a wishing stone – one had to pass one’s hand through the stone and make a wish.
I was warned that one could not wish for love or money, as both were to come to you unbidden.

The topic of wealth and money on Folklore Thursday on twitter brought the wishing stone back to mind – reason enough for a blog post.

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

Legless

29/3/2017

This was the image that awaited us as we came up Patrick’s St towards the Winthrop St junction at lunchtime on Monday.

The probable, and most boring, explanation is that just having purchased new footwear, a decision was made to ditch the old, rather than bring home.

But such an explanation would not provide distraction time, time to allow the mind to wander, to escape for some chill-out time.

Maybe enough was enough, and walking barefoot was the first step in rebelling against the norms and expectation of society – that quote eventually wore down the mental block providing resistance, the time had arrived when the life would be lived, not chosen.

Maybe, a dare or a bet to act out the Mikel Murfi role had become less fun as sobriety returned in the early hours.

Maybe some escapade the night before resulted in lost or damaged shoes. These boots borrowed, (or retrieved from a recycle bin), until the shoe shop was reached.

This morning’s tweet from the Irish Aesthete demanded that the rambles through my mind become fully formed in the shape of this blog post.

A Dramatic Headstone

27/3/2017

This morning, I spotted a retweet mentioning that it was #WorldTheatreDay. It included the image of two masks which reminded me of a headstone in Kilmalkader.

A bright lovely Sunday morning last April, this headstone did cause me to pause and wonder, and smile.

I have not seen the masks on a headstone before or since.

It has proved memorable.

Birds, Nuns and Witches

30/1/2017

I took this photograph in May 2015 when I had a few hours to explore and try to expand my collection of IHS Tiles – a ongoing endeavour.

May 2015 was reasonably early in my relearning Irish education.

I had a recollection that ‘bean rialta’ was the Irish translation for nun that I had known and used. When I saw the word ‘ealtanach’, it went on the mental ‘To Find Out More’ list but remained in the backwater of that list until this morning.

There were a few tweets about streetnames in Cork – their misnaming and such stories.

Then I spotted a tweet with an older streetsign for Nun’s Island and the same translation – ealtanach. ‘Ealtanach’ swiftly departed the depths of that To Do List and is now done – as much as I can, for now.

An amount of time searching the internet did result in quite a number of dead ends.

Teanglann.ie and pota-focal.ie both drew blanks in translations for ealtanach, ealtan and ealtanaigh.

Thinking it may be a surname, I went to sloinne.ie – another blank.

The online directory of Irish placenames is logainm.ie. Before it provided a clue, it gave some humorous distraction.

There are two Nuns’ Islands listed as being in Ireland. The other is in Lough Ree, north of Athlone. The Irish name for this island is Oileán na gCailleach Dubh. ‘Cailleach’ was in my Irish vocabulary, from another streetsign at Cahercalla in Ennis – the Fort of the Hag.

My translation of the Lough Ree Nuns’ Island would be Island of the Black Witches. Logainm plots a course from ‘the black hags island’ to ‘Island of the black nuns’.

Teanglann.ie does have an option for nun as ‘cailleach dhubh’ or ‘cailleach Mhuire’ .

Returning from that detour, I spotted that logainm.ie translates as Altanach and their notes for the Galway Nuns’ Island refer to altagnagh and altagneach. These provided some hits on the google lottery.

Coincidently, ‘Dubliners’ is my current reading material, resident in my inside pocket. Journey Westward by Frank Shovlin advises that it was the island of the flocking birds – to me, a lovelier name than Nuns’ Island.

Sean Spellissy’s book ‘The History of Galway’ has become a candidate for my shelf. It agrees with the ‘flocks’ of birds’ reference.

Tearma.ie does have ‘ealtaigh’ as the Irish translation for flock of birds.

This is close to but differs from streetsign ‘Ealtanach’ and logainm.ie’s ‘Altanach’.

The argument that the correct source is ‘flock of birds’ may well pass the test of ‘on the balance of probabilities’ but, I think not the test of ‘beyond all reasonable doubt’.

It remains on the ‘To Find Out More’ list.

‘Though called Nuns’ Island after becoming home to the Poor Clare order in Galway, the original Gaelic name for this strip of land surrounded by the Corrib waters was Oileán Altanach, as indicated in Hardiman’s history of Galway and in today’s bilingual street signs. Oileán Altanach in translation ahs nothing to do with convent life but rather means ‘the island of flocking birds’.’

Journey Westward: Joyce, Dubliners and the Literary Revival

‘.. this area was still known as the Island of Altona, an anglicised variant on Oilean Ealtanach, the island of the flocks of birds. ... The southern part of Altenagh, in the Nuns Island, was mentioned in 1802; by 1807 the new town Goal was being ..’

Sean Spellissy – The History of Galway

UPDATE 2017.01.30 -

The world of twitter has helped clarify, educate and improve my Irish.

Aonghus Ó hAlmhain advised that ‘ealtanach’ is listed on teanglann.ie as a variant of ‘ealtach’ translated as abounding in flocks (of birds); that the logainm notes also say ‘sin an áit ina mbeadh ealtaí éan’ – I translate as ‘That is the places in which there are flocks of birds’; and that eDIL dictionary confirms ‘caille, the base of ‘cailleach’ derives from veiled woman.

This Grave to be Closed Forever

18/1/2017

I do like visiting cemeteries. I do like mosaics.

It is not often that the two combine but they did so in Castlebar a few months back.

I had an early morning stroll around the cemetery. I stopped to ponder at the ceramic mosaic.

It appeared to be a triple grave but if anyone else was to be buried on the left section, it would mean destroying the mosaic.

Briefly I wondered as to whether that section was full; whether a decision was made that no more would be buried on that side; or even none buried at all on that side. Then I walked on and it was mentally filed away as a potential blog, sometime.

Over the Christmas break, I spotted a tweet from GraveyardDetective where he had spotted a headstone in Anfield Cemetery upon which was engraved the message that the grave was not to be reopened after the couple were buried.

It did add a sense of mystery and intrigue.

Why?

Liam Burke (near Castletownroche)

I have seen similar messages only relating to Irish Republican Memorials but to effect that gate/wall remains until Ireland is fully free. I have never seen such a message in a cemetery.

Donal Shinnick (near Mitchelstown)

Back to Anfield - Why? Why was it necessary to have engraved? Was it obeyed?

I have no answers so your imagination is probably as good as mine, if not better – let it loose on that for a while.

A final reminder to self – better upload those mosaics that I have spotted around Cork. Until then, a taster.

Paris - just like Crosshaven

10/11/2016

Crosshaven

The first time I noted the name of an architect engraved on a headstone was in Crosshaven on the Bank Holiday Monday last week – that is the name engraved as the designer as opposed to the resident.

We went searching for the headstone designed by Seamus Murphy, the only one in St. Patrick’s graveyard in Crosshaven. It was made to mark the grave of former labour T.D., Dan Desmond, who died in 1964. His wife, Eileen, took up residence in 2005, thirty years after Seamus Murphy died.

I very much like the form and the shape of the memorial – appropriate to the proximity to the sea.

Patrick McSweeney was Cork County Architect from 1953 to 1975. I find it interesting to consider how the interaction between two designers may have operated – each having to yield some element of the complete design that they regularly hold in a project.

Paris

Crosshaven

Irish National Foresters

6/9/2016

More than once, I have commented that I have learnt from various plaques and signs that I have spotted – today’s blog is another lesson learnt.

I assumed that the Irish National Foresters was a trade association for those working in woodlands and forestry. It made me immediately think of Monty Python and their lumberjack song.

Today, a tweet of a ghostsign in Edinburgh for the Ancient Order of Foresters reminded me of the visit to Tullamore last month and this sign over Fergie’s Bar on Market Place. It prompted some education from the web.

The Ancient Order of Foresters was founded in 1834. The Irish National Foresters broke away in 1877 and became the largest friendly society in Ireland, supporting Irish nationalism and ‘government for Ireland by the Irish people in accordance with Irish ideas and Irish aspirations’. A procession in Dublin in 1923 was attended by 25,000.

There are some branches remaining, particularly in Ulster but also in Navan where those in the Irish National Foresters Brass Band are still blowing.

It is a bad day when one does not learn something new.

Cinema Fire - 48 dead

5/9/2016

Last April was the first time hearing of the Dromcollogher Cinema Disaster.

Maybe it is a sign of my own vintage – taking fifty years to hear of such a human tragedy.

I still remember waking up on a February morning to do some study for my Inter Cert, turning on the radio and hearing of the Stardust Disaster.

As one who would have been with my grandfather to many different sports grounds, watching the F.A. Cup semi-final at Hillsborough unfold on the television is well engraved on my own grey surface – on our recent visit to Liverpool, I was happy that my nine-year old accompanied me while we went to stand and remember at the memorial at Anfield – just a week after the inquest jury findings.

In May 1985, four of us should have been studying for our second year exams – results subsequently proved that 75% of us needed extra study time. Study lost out to a trip to the beach at Clogherhead. I still remember heading through the pub door with the Bradford City fire disaster on the television – I thought of how many timber stands I had stood to watch matches and get out of the rain.

As blogged previously, I first learned of the collapse of the Carmody Hotel from a sign. Last April, taking a road not previously travelled and involving a decent detour on the trip to Baile an Fheirteártaigh / An Buailtín, I stopped in Dromcollogher and was photographing a plaque at the old co-operative when spotted by JOD.

I explained my interest in signs and plaques and was then educated for the first time as to the Cinema Fire – and the memorials at the Library and the church. A tweet this morning from Irish History Links reminded me of the event.

The Dromcollogher Cinema Fire claimed 48 lives – the same number of fatalities as the Stardust in 1981.

The fire at the Dromcollogher Cinema happened 90 years ago – 5th September, 1926.

Graveyard Neighbours

8/8/2016

Thomas Wallace, 1st Cork Brigade, Old I.R.A.

Midleton, Co Cork

There was quite an amount of comments about the Remembrance Wall at Glasnevin Cemetery. I read of many objections to the listing together of those who fought on both sides – those who fought against each other.

There is a possibility that one that died in Easter 1916 is listed on the wall with the name of the person who killed him on the same wall. The killing may have been deliberate or unintentional as the wall also lists those who were not involved in the fighting, innocent bystanders.

At the time, a seed was planted to do a blog on the neighbouring headstones that I spotted in Rathcooney Cemetery and Midleton Cemetery, both in Co. Cork. When I spotted these I was reminded of Christy Moore’s Cabaret.

“When the elections are all over we’ll be pushing up clover

I tell ye everyone in the graveyard votes the same.”
Christy Moore

W. Froyne d 1915.06.24

Rathcooney, Co. Cork

M O'Callaghan d. 1918.10.28

W. Buckley d. 1922.09.26

That seed has taken some time to germinate. The growth spurt prompted by a tweet from Luke Portess as to similar bedfellows in Glasnevin.

I remembered a talk from Neil Richardson at Ennis Bookclub Festival being surprised at the very large percentage of Irishmen in the British Army at the time of World War One – as Ireland was a part of the British Empire, they were also fighting for or defending their country.

At the launch of ‘The Immortal Deed of Michael O’Leary’, Danny Morrison spoke of his grandfather joining the British Army in 1917 and that very many Irishmen joined on the understanding that victory would lead to freedom for Ireland (text here – well worth a read)

The seed has been a long time in bearing fruit but I am thinking that these neighbouring souls could actually have had the same hopes – just a different way of getting there. If one had not died in World War I, they might even have fought together some years later.

We will never know…..

Making Connections

27/7/2016

There is a kick in joining the dots of information.

Harrington's Square

Gardiner's Hill

Ballyhooley Road

Wellesley Terrace