A trip down Memory Layne

I'm visiting Ireland to see my mother and the YD.  I hired a car at Shannon airport to go to Cork, and after I left it back, I went for a wander through Shannon town with my friend Elayne (who has featured in this blog before).  We both grew up here and we had fun revisiting our old haunts, so I thought I would share our roots with you all.

This little sunken area is where we played when we were little.  The community hall was on the patch of concrete in the background, but it was set on fire a couple of times and was demolished recently.  When we were small, we used to play "The Billy Goats Gruff" on the bridge - somebody was picked to be the Troll and hid under the bridge and then leaped out and chased the Billy Goats when they tried to cross.  Simple pleasures, simpler times.

My first home was in one of the blocks of flats in the background.

There used to be three swings here, strung between the concrete pillars.  See the stone wall behind the pillars?  That was VERY VERY high and jumping off it was a massive feat of bravery and sometimes resulted in a scabby knee.

The former home of the Shannon Lawn Tennis Club, where I spent many an unhappy hour perfecting the Fresh Air Shot.  Nobody realised I needed glasses for years.  I also wasn't particularly interested in tennis... nobody realised that, either.

There used to be a clubhouse on the far side of the courts, a green portacabin, but that's gone too.

The mighty Shannon estuary.  I used to love walking or cycling down here or on one of the other "points," as we used to call these peninsulas which jut out into the river.  That's County Limerick on the other side.

Outside our first school :

We were very careful not to look like we were trying to photograph kids in case someone called the Guards!

This used to be the football pitch for the school.  The boys played football or hurling while the girls did knitting and sewing.  Different times, folks.

The church, which is straight across the road from the school.  Where we all went every Sunday, no matter what.  Did I say different times already?

This is me in front of my second home.  My earliest memory is of playing on the street in front of this house, I was probably about two and a half or three years old.

One of the local hostelries.  It was the only local hostelry initially, apart from the bar at the airport, two miles away.  

Yeah, I know it looks a bit grim.  The daffodils were nice though.

Shannon in the 1960s was a strange place, it was custom built to provide housing for the the brand new industrial estate which grew up beside the airport.  My family was one of the earliest to move there.  Everybody was a blow-in which made us all equal, although some people were more equal than others and lived in "posh" houses like this :

This house is one of a row which is straight across from the blocks of flats in the first picture.  We thought they were HUGE, but they look so small and ordinary, now.  Initially, the flats and these houses were the only accommodation in Shannon, apart from some really grotty barrack-style hostels at the airport itself where my father lived initially.  Elayne's family lived in "the flats" too - apparently they brought the population up to 302 when they arrived!  Then the first stretch of "housing estates" was built, which was where I lived from the age of two to four, and after that the town mushroomed, with a massive boom in the seventies and another more recent boom in the late 1990s.  According to Wikipedia, the population now stands at about 9,600.

This was my third home, where I lived from the age of four to fourteen.

Just as I was about to leap out and take a photo, a car pulled up outside and stayed there, so we ended up doing a "drive-by shooting" instead.  I didn't want to look as if we were casing the joint or anything like that.

Then we whizzed by our old secondary school, which looks much the same as it always did, except somehow the yellow brick on the walls has become red.  This school was pretty special, it was Ireland's first ever Comprehensive and heralded a new era in education.  We were guinea-pigs and they tried out a lot of new courses on us before introducing them into the mainstream school system.

After that, we had a look at some of Elayne's former homes, where she lived in the early years of her (first) marriage, and then drove back to Granny's house via the scenic route.

A dolmen type-thing we passed along the way.

Granny's house (my fifth home, the fourth one was only a temporary rented house so it doesn't count) looks out over this beautiful lake.  It's a lot nicer than Shannon, and most importantly, the riding school was only three miles away!

Limerick, you're no Lady

Limerick : a city that thrived during the boom years and, even now, still has a feeling of vibrancy in the streets.  They've fought hard to clean up their act and get rid of that nickname.

While window shopping last Saturday, a jeweller's shop caught my eye.  Oh sez Granny, they're one of the oldest jewellers in Limerick, they're very good.  So we crossed the road and had a look in the window.

This was the first thing that caught my eye (apologies for the crappy photo, the rest are a bit better)

Yeah.  That's a cannabis leaf pendant on the left and a blinged-up armalite on the right.

There were a lot more cannabis leaves in the display, plus this this pony & sulky :

That might be a cultural reference that only Irish people would get, this next one is a little more obvious :

I guess this jewellers caters to... hmm... an interesting cross-section of the underbelly of society, shall we say.

Sorry, Limerick, you'll always be Stab City to me.

Family Crisis

Early on Sunday morning we got a text telling us that our brother-in-law had passed away.  It was a surprise, although not unexpected - he has been ill since August.  One of the fears we both had when leaving Ireland was that there were some people we might not see again; sadly true in this case.

The days that followed have been a blur of phonecalls, internet searches, airports, hugs, tears, prayers, more hugs, more airports, more internet searches.

Things that are engraved in my brain that I will never forget :

• My sister-in-law’s strength, dignity and absolute faith
• My niece’s desolate sobs as her Dad left the family home for the last time
• The vast hordes of ordinary folk who came to pay their last respects to a kind, gentle man
• Panicking over whether we’d make it to the crematorium on time
• Barely making it to the crematorium on time
• Getting to see my lovely daughters (including the one who isn’t really my daughter!) and my best friend
• Spending some time with our dear friend Denis
• Being on a cancelled flight for the first time ever.

Snow in Stanstead Airport on Wednesday morning meant that our flight never left Cork, instead Ryanair decided to cancel it just as Stanstead re-opened the runway... so, not a cancellation caused by necessity, more a cancellation so that they could re-allocate the plane to another route.

Several hundred euro later, we have re-booked with another airline and are currently en-route, frazzled after a 5am start but looking forward to getting home.

It’s hard to believe it, but we will be back in Ireland in ten days time, for a happier occasion this time, the marriage of our niece. 

The tears will not be far below the surface and our brother-in-law will be sorely missed, but we will celebrate life, love and happiness.

RIP Con

Here We Go!

Neighbours

We've been blessed with our neighbours here.  Even though we are a mere fifteen minutes away from the centre of Ireland's second biggest city, our townland has an old-fashioned sense of community normally found in much more rural areas.

Shortly after we moved here, the LSH was relocated to the US for a period of four months.  There was no question of myself and the girls accompanying him as the livery yard was just beginning to take off, so I endured a dark, wet winter here, alone with two small children.  I usually bedded down the horses at about eight pm, skipping out and doling out their last ration of hay after the girls were in bed and returning to the house around nine.  Many years later, I learned that our neighbour, Frank, had taken a stroll up our drive at ten every evening for those four months, whatever the weather, making sure the yard lights were out and that I wasn't stretched unconscious in a stable.

That's the kind of stuff I mean.

When my father died sixteen years ago, we all decamped to Co Clare and our neighbours rallied around to look after the horses and dogs.  Similarly, when Frank was having bypass surgery a few years ago, one of my ex-helpers, all grown up now, and her Dad looked after his horses every morning before work.

It's just that sort of a place.  We all help each other.  When a concrete block fell on my head (ouch) did I go to Accident & Emergency?  No, I went to a neighbour, who dressed it and decided that I just-about didn't need stitches (she was right).  When a horse got her foot trapped in a piece of veterinary equipment while having her teeth rasped (long and complicated story which would require animated diagrams), I called a neighbour, who dropped everything and came over to be the extra pair of hands we needed to release the mare.  When I heard of the sudden death of my young nephew, I just walked into to my nearest neighbours house, ashen faced and shaking, knowing she'd be there to listen to me.

There is constant traffic between all the houses in eggs, milk, flour, tins of tomatoes - all those little essentials that are easy to forget!  For our part, the LSH willingly helped with computer troubles, I helped with horse troubles and the local horsey youngsters had access to our arena when the winter closed in and the nights were too dark to ride out.

Yeah, there were the usual neighbourly gripes about barking dogs, rowdy kids and roaming livestock, but that's just part of life, isn't it?

Now that we're about to leave, our neighbours rise to the occasion again.  My plans for the horses' departure has changed - the original plan was that they would go to my friend Naomi, an hour's drive away, until George Mullins was ready to collect them.  Now, we're going to leave them here in their own paddock.  I asked Frank if he'd keep an eye on them for the few days and if he'd be there, when the time came, to help load them up.

"Glad to be asked," was the reply.  "Don't you worry about them at all."

The cats, Fatty and Skinny, have been weighing on my mind.  A good friend offered to take them, but it would mean relocating the cats - it would be much better for them if they could stay here.  I've been hoping that whoever rents our house will be happy to keep them for their pest control abilities, but that might not work out - it's entirely possible that the house won't be rented before we leave, or our tenants might not be interested in the cats - and I'm sure as hell not going to mention rats!

I asked Dannielle, who grew up with our girls, if she'd feed the cats, if necessary.

"Think about it," I said " I don't want to put you on the spot."

"No, I'll do it, it's fine!"

"Are you sure?"

"YES!"

I shouldn't have expected anything less.

This small community is as close to family as you can get.  We've grieved together and celebrated together, played together and worked together. That's what makes it special, I guess.

It's one of the things I'm going to miss the most.

Kingsland, (c) Ordnance Survey Ireland

From the Cradle to Ann Summers and everything in between

Wind Chimes and Fairies

The ED left for London while I was at the Dublin Horse Show.  She's done a great job clearing out her bedroom, and I'd seen it in a fairly empty state before I went away, so I was not at all prepared for the lump that rose in my throat when I went in to clear it out for painting.

There are still a few bits of her left - wind chimes, a fairy mobile, her name painted in an Oriental style - enough to tug at the heart strings, but I pushed those feelings down deep and soon forgot about them while we painted.

The YD works and lives in town now, but she has been home as often as she can, chipping away at clearing her room.  Progress has been slow and the deadline is looming, so today I went in, prepared to blitz the final bits and pieces.

It was much, much harder than I expected.  So many memories, so much stuff charting her progress from two to twenty two.

The tasseled blanket, that used to be in the cot, now draped over the cushions in her little sitting area.

Dr George Clooney Bear, who arrived on the scene complete with surgical mask and stethoscope when she was fighting a horrible flu.

Dr George Clooney Bear and the tasseled blanket

A sticker proudly proclaiming "I got my ears pierced at Claire's Accessories."

A Hello Kitty tag.

Her wall of photos, full of reminders of great days out, Pony Club, show-jumping, dressage and more.

Good King Rollo, Pepper, Copper, Diego, Tula, Ballyclough Lady and Aero, Aero, Aero

Rosettes and more rosettes - these are just a few of the special ones!

A "Science is Fun" name tag from the Young Scientist fair she attended aged sixteen.

A Boots Advantage card.

An empty Ann Summers box.

An empty Ann Summers box?

No, scratch that, I don't want to know!

Job done, room sorted and ready for inspection.  Eyes dried now.

Are we Winning?

In five weeks time, we'll be on the ferry as it sails out of Cork Harbour.  It's a race against time to get the house sorted out and presentable for rental before we leave.  Our plan is to have it ready for Estate Agent photos at the end of this week, and ready for viewings the week after.

We threw ourselves at it with gusto this weekend - on Saturday, the YD came home and removed a few more bags of "stuff", and we painted the ED's bedroom.  We've now completely painted five rooms, with three left - two large, one small - but we're facing the possibility that we may have to hire someone to finish it off.

Sunday's project was Reclaim the Lounge, which has been crammed full with the ED's possessions since she moved home.

There's a three piece suite in there somewhere

Before we could start on that, though, we had to make space available in the office, which is intended to be our storeroom while we're away.

Once I finished doing the horses, dogs and chickens, I joined the LSH in filling Jeepy up with junk from the office to transport to the skip.  Being the mature fifty-somethings that we are, when we came across the whirly chair on wheels whose seat had worn thin, we just threw it straight in the skip.  Of course.  Haha.

After that little diversion, we got back to work.  The Office was de-cluttered.  Jeepy was emptied into the skip.  Jeepy was filled up again.  Galway Bear and Foxy looked on.

Dylan took advantage of the open door and settled himself in front of the hearth.

I want to be an indoor dog!

Coats were hung in the newly painted back kitchen, boxes were filled, Christmas decorations were finally taken down!!!
And eventually, the three piece suite emerged and the floor was visible.

To end the weekend, I itemised all of the horse gear I want to sell and posted it on DoneDeal.  I also shared the link on my Facebook page, and five hours later, I've sold loads of stuff!

Yes, we're winning!

Dylan made me do it, Mum!

Swansong?

It's entirely possible that I've just competed in Ireland for the very last time, unless the whole France thing doesn't work out and we come back next year with our tails between our legs.

I'm sad about that, but otherwise I couldn't be happier about today.

It started at 6.40am, when I hauled a fat, contented Flurry in from the paddock with really long grass, which he had broken into overnight.  No feed for him, then, the little glutton.  I washed his mane, tail and fetlocks, sprayed his tail with loads of Mane&Tail conditioner, plaited his mane and spent AGES going through his tail, but it was worth it, it looked gorgeous afterwards.  I gave him a small amount of haylage to keep him happy while I went in for my brekkie - well, I couldn't let the poor little guy get hungry, could I?

Warming up, fetlocks blowing in the breeze

We arrived at our show venue, Maryville, in good time, tacked both of us up and headed to the warm-up.  Flurry didn't feel great warming up, it was busier than he's used to and he was a bit intimidated by the other horses.  He was also lazy and a bit inattentive, so I was doing transitions and leg-yielding to try to sharpen him up, but I still wasn't too happy with him when we were called up for our first test, BD Prelim 12.

Time for one more mental rehearsal before we went in, time for a little trot around outside the boards, throw in a few transitions, and Enter at A...

I felt it was accurate and obedient, but a little sluggish.  Accuracy is usually a good sign - you can't ride an accurate test if the horse is inattentive, too onward bound or too lazy.  I guessed my score would be low sixties, but I wasn't too sure.  Here's the video :

I was astounded when I saw my score - 69.6%, the third highest score in all of test 12, and the winning score in my section!  The judge's comments were "Nice active test, accurately ridden making good use of arena.  He gets a little on forehand in canter but otherwise good consistent test."  Woohoo!

I had a quick look at the video afterwards, and I have to say, it looks better than it felt!  Yeah, the canter still isn't great, I think the judge was a wee bit kind to me, but the trot work looked good throughout.

Here we go for the second test

I was determined to improve the impulsion for the next test, BD Prelim 14, but at the same time I didn't want to overcook him in the warm-up, so I carefully allowed 25 minutes to tack up and warm up again.  When we arrived back at the trailer, though, we found he had covered his formerly lovely tail with liquid, grassy poop - yuck!  There was nothing I could do except shake most of it off and hope the rest would fall off during our warm-up!

He was more attentive in the warm-up and we worked on transitions again, still trying to get more impulsion going.  I went back into the indoor feeling positive initially, but I felt like I was booting him around and the test just didn't flow as well as the first one.  The good news, though, was that the poop seemed to have fallen out of his tail!

Look at that tail!

This time there was no video, the LSH was taking stills instead, and having seen them, I have to say it doesn't seem to have been as good as the first test.  In looking for more impulsion, I lost consistency in his outline and the transitions did not flow as smoothly.  The score? 64.58%, still a score to be proud of as far as I'm concerned, and once again, the winning score in my section.  The judge's comments this time were "Overall calm, obedient test.  Needs to be more active in trot work and lighter on forehand in canter."  Yes.  I agree with all that.

So since completing our 500km trek across France, Flurry and I have competed twice in dressage and have managed to score over 63% on each occasion.  What's so special about 63%?  That's the qualifying mark for our National Championships - we're now qualified for the Sportsmans A finals (an amateur section), but the bad news is I probably won't be able to go - we've just got too much to do before we leave for France.

Halt, Salute and...

Oh well, at least we qualified.  I'm very proud of my little horse!