Tag Archives: ireland

Vagueness about place

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Dot near Cockshoot Broad
Dot near Cockshoot Broad

After writing the last post, we were invited round to number 18 for a cup of tea, which turned out to be much more: sandwiches, cakes and so on. An afternoon tea that Phil would have been proud of, apparently. I’m sure she would. Phyll too. Had a very pleasant time talking to a number of people – especially the wife of the RC deacon who had led the service.

We were about to lose our record of going to the cinema every week this year when we decided to go for a walk at the end of Saturday afternoon – and during the walk decided to go to the cinema to see The Grand Budapest Hotel. Discovered at the end that it was from stories by Stefan Zweig, and it certainly had a mid-European feel to it – a vagueness about place but a fascination with unusual sequences of events. Ralph Fiennes was very funny, as was the bellboy, whose name escapes me. The hotel was  funny too.

On Sunday we had Communion followed by a talk by Robert Fruewirth on Lady Julian and person-centred counselling. I spent most of it trying to work out what non-person-centred counselling would be like. I do have an antipathy to counselling generally, suspecting it’s often a kind of addiction indulged in by people who should just get a grip, but are too fascinated by themselves to step outside. He didn’t say anything very interesting, which is a pity, because Julian most definitely did.

Later Dot and I went for a walk at Woodbastwick in weather rather redolent of the previous Sunday, if marginally cooler. Cockshoot Broad is as tranquil as ever, but the dyke seems to have lost its water lilies. Or maybe it’s the wrong time of year. Is there a wrong time of year for water lilies? Bright sunshine, though, and restful.

Yesterday I went to the dentist and got more or less a clean bill of health, though he identified a little hole that he would like to have a go at with a laser. In a weak moment, I said yes. It’s happening next Wednesday. Not sure it’s totally necessary, but apparently it bled a lot. Meanwhile the rest of my body is up and down: last night I felt extremely odd in the middle of the night, but much better as soon as I got out of bed. Still have a funny head  (oh yes) and a tight abdomen.

In the afternoon I went out to Mundesley for a meeting of the PHS trustees, arriving a little early. Not a bad meeting in the sun room, but with the door open. Have just finished the minutes, but it sounds very much as if we are going to get involved with another huge project. I may flee the country.

Meanwhile I have written a song called Farewell to Philomena, based loosely on our dear departed neighbour, but with some other elements of southern Ireland. Quite pleased with it, though Dot has doubts about the tune. She has a pain in her groin too (I don’t think it’s the tune), but has been spending the afternoon at Peterhouse School with her colleague Juliet (wife of Tom Corbett, ibid).

14 July 2007

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I am not really writing this on 14 July. It’s 30 July, but if I tried to get everything that’s happened since the 9th on one entry, it would be a huge mass of text. As it is, I’m going to have to cut it down drastically, because I just haven’t got time to write it all. Future historians (ha!) will find more information but less coherence in my notebooks.

The picture is of me at Bantry, shortly after receiving my 1000-euro cheque from Fish Publishing and reading my poem, The Island Grows On Me, to the assembled throng. Quite a large number of them and in a very swish setting: the new and very upmarket Maritime Hotel, Bantry. Dot was so impressed by it that she took a picture of the ladies’ loos (not included here).

Also in the picture are Debra Shulkes, runner-up in the poetry (with her back to the camera), Jo Cannon (short-story runner-up) and (off to the side) Jo Campbell, runnner-up, short histories. Got to know these three quite well, as well as a guy from America.

We’d flown to Cork from Stansted on July 11, after Dot had visited two schools in the West of Norfolk: Necton and Ten Mile Bank. We’d strolled round Swaffham, finding the house featured in Kingdom – Stephen Fry’s TV series – and had eaten lunch at The Bridge, where we’d eaten earlier iin the year when Dot visited Oakington. Nice meal, lovely setting on the Cam.

Flying was the usual nightmare, even though it all went smoothly. Dot’s handcream alarmed the machine, so she had to go and obtain a plastic bag for it, which of course immediately rendered it harmless. I was searched randomly. At least, they said it was random, but it seemed systematic to me. Car hire at Cork no problem, but we had a little trouble finding the hotel. Once we did, we enjoyed it: very luxurious. If I could remember what it was, I’d tell you.

On the 12th – my 62nd birthday – we drove to Bantry. Before too long we stopped at a little-known place called Inchigeelagh, where there was a tasteful modern cafe and a ruined church, which I wondered round, almost falling into a couple of semi-open graves (holes below the stones). Quite eerie. Headed onwards to the Gouganne Barra – a magical spot in a glacial valley where St Finbarr established an oratory on a little lake island accessed by a causeway. This area also featured the toilets of the year 2002, which were quite something. I know you think I’m kidding, but I’m not.

Later we took a single-track road into the hills north of Bantry – a place called the Priest’s Leap. Happily there was absolutely no other traffic, because there was hardly anywhere to pass, let alone turn round. Amazing view of Bantry Bay from near the top. Quite idyllic. Walked a little then managed to turn and drove down into Bantry, where we found the hotel – nowhere near as good as the Cork one, but good enough. Had a home-cooked-style evening meal and went for a walk: found the Pillar Stone of Kilnaurane on a hill, surrounded by rather cheap wire and ramshackle posts. This is a ninth-century artefact which may carry a carved picture of St Brendan. In England it would have a visitor centre and a large car park. In Ireland it has an easily-missed signpost and is approached over a field from a back road. The view from the hill is superb.

The next day we drove down to Mizen Head, the most southerly point of Ireland, where there actually is a visitor centre – quite good, too, though we had to ask someone how to reach the path to the headland. The Irish are not great on signposts. In cloud when we arrived, and the man who took the tickets said we had no chance of seeing Fastnet today. Less than an hour later the cloud had lifted quite well enough to see Fastnet clearly, which just goes to show that local weather forecasters are not all they’re cracked up to be. Cliffs here are spectacular. Made our way back to Bantry for the evening ceremony, taking in a nearby beach and the southern coast, including Goleen, with its tiny harbour and inviting but shut Heron restaurant, and the much busier Schull, where we saw the ferry from Clear Island arrive. Lovely coastline.

After a bar meal we drove into Bantry for the ceremony. Saw the first part of the Slam (open mic) afterwards, but then returned to the hotel for sleep.

“Today” we drove back to Cork. Weather has been mostly good, with the occasional shower, most of which we missed. Drove to Glengariff and then over Healey’s Pass, a beautiful winding road which took us into County Kerry. Got slightly lost around Kenmare and found ourselves on tiny back roads: at one point a tractor had to back up for us. Eventually emerged roughly where we had anticipated and worked our way by back roads to Inchigeelagh again, where we had lunch to the accompaniment outside of what must have been a major wedding in the area. Stopped at a a haunting wetland area, then decided we just had time to see Blarney Castle – and ended up climbing to the very top to see the Blarney Stone. We decided not to kiss it as this required contortions: there were also hygiene issues. Lovely castle, though.

The drive back to the airport took longer than we thought, but we had plenty of time in the end. Met a couple from the ceremony – Jo Campbell and her husband – and the flight home was pretty uneventful. Stansted to Norwich took well over two hours, largely (or entirely) because Dot left her glasses at a service station on the Newmarket bypass, and retrieving it took a 25-mile round trip because of the lack of dual-carriageway exits. So home about 12.30am – and it was really July 15. Ah, well.