 I am in the process of getting my thousands of photographs catalogued and uploaded. One of the groupings that I am working on is Street Art so I have been going through different photos over the past while. On Tuesday, I spotted a beauty on Connaught Street in Cabra – absolutely lovely. 
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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.  
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.  I have contributed a number of details of field and placenames to Meitheal Logainm – a crowd sourcing of names/nicknames of fields, crossroads and other features around the country. Having spoken with a few older farmers, every field had a name, or even a number of names, but many names were lost with the selling of farms.
My brother-in-law’s father worked with Irish Sugar and told of a book that he had that he used when visiting farmers every year as to which fields would be given over to beet that year – the high field, Murphy’s acres……. That book contained the names of very many fields. It was left behind him when he retired and he suspects that it was subsequently consigned to a skip – so much history and lore, lost. Staying in Skerries overnight, I was delighted to spot that they have plaques erected to record the old names of corners – I only spotted two, my next visit will demand a more extensive walkabout for any more.   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…..
I saw this mural on Sunday through the open gate to a car park and was immediately humming Leonard Cohen’s Anthem. 
This mural is in a car park off Talbot St in Belfast. The gable end of the building accommodates the commemoration to the 1913 Lockout which was the street art uploaded on the first day of 2019. These are the Street Art photos uploaded for day 2 of 2019. I was so impressed with the image, particularly the imagery on the feathers of the arrow Enjoy the art – and the humming. 
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.
 “My dearest Mother, I take this opportunity of writing to you to let you know the dreadful news, that I am to be shot on Tuesday morning, the 1st of November. What harm, it is all for Ireland. I am not afraid to die, but it thinking of you I am. That is all: if you will be happy on earth I will be happy in Heaven. I am ready to meet my doom. The priest is with me when needed so you need not worry over me… I am the only one of 62 of us to be put out of this World, but I am ready to die”
The day after Kevin Barry was executed, James Daly met a similar fate. Growing up I would have learned of Kevin Barry, the former Belvedere student who was due to sit an exam as part of his U.C.D. Medical Studies but participated in an I.R.A. attack, was captured, court-martialled and hanged. Years ago, I would have heard the song sung by Paul Robeson, Leonard Cohen and others. It was much more recently that I learned of James Daly. He was a member of the Connaught Rangers who refused to soldier when they heard of the treatment of Irish men and women at the hands of the Black & Tans. Patrick McGrath, a colleague of his from India, lies in Castlehyde Cemetery. His headstone prompted my reading of the Indian Mutiny. James Daly led a group of the Connaught Rangers in an attempt to regain their guns which they had handed over. Two soldiers died. As leader, James Daly was court-martialled and executed. Last month, I had to travel from Dublin to Roscommon so I availed of the opportunity to travel the old main road west and make a visit to Tyrellspass and leave one of my stones on the grave of James Daly.
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.
 Canopies – with a Kinsale accent 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…..
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