Tag: action

Sweeping down to the sea

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I’ve an old friend. We met through a play scheme we worked on in Antrim over 40 years ago. Erik got in touch a few weeks ago to say he was off back to Northern Ireland and did I fancy going walking with him.in the Morne Mountains. Yes I did, and off we went.

The Kilmorey Arms Hotel

We met at Dublin airport and drove up to Kilkeen for a few days. Our base of operations was the Kilmorey Arms and this place was amazing. Comfortable and welcoming, staff could not do enough for us. The town itself is a little down at heel, a working fishing village with a reputation for excellent sea food. I have to say we are well at the hotel although the options around town were limited. The little Italian restaurant was good also. Family friendly and without an alcohol license if that’s a deal breaker. It wasn’t for us.

Doan in the Mournes

We asked our breakfast server for advice and were recommended Doan as a challenge but not too much. Good choice. We made either to the top (593m) in just under two hours and down a little quicker. The rain set in as the car park came into view.

Soggy

Day two was horizontal rain from the get go. We decided that our walk today would be down memory lane. Erik and I met as a result of being idealistic young people back in the mid nineteen eighties. We were workers on a series of play schemes which crossed the political divide. People were used to slogans and shootings in Antrim and Belfast, Armagh and Portadown. Children grew up heavily indoctrinated. We wanted to be part of the solution. We went to play and to somehow help children from Republican and Unionist sides to meet. Thankfully the peace process was successful with the Good Friday Agreement. It is not 100% but it is good to know that driving a vehicle with a Dublin number plate is no longer a guarantee of an attack in the North. We saw what was going on back then in the ‘troubles’.  One place more central to the peace than you know is a priory in a tiny speck of a place called Benburb. We went back through Newry and Armagh to visit.

Benburb Priory (Service Order) was founded in a former mansion and estate on the edge of the town. The members of the order, mostly priests but we know of a couple of nuns, made it their business to serve. Local people were involved in events onsite and slowly came to accept the presence of these outsiders. The priory today still serves the community with a cafe and small museum and library. The grounds are open for walking and quiet contemplation as well as festivals and celebrations. Many people wanted to speak with us. Some had personal connections.with Erik and his family.

At Benburb Priory

A day of high emotion and comfortable silences on the return journey as we each thought about how this place has shaped our lives.

Day three was grey. We had a late breakfast with friends from the Benburb area. When they left to carry on family duties we took to the hills again. The aim for the day to make it to the Blue Lough. A well-defined and short footpath lead from the walkers car park and we looked up to the clouded hills.

Path to Blue Lough

We were wrapped in waterproof jackets and strong boots. Whilst there were some puddles to cross.on the way up it was not raining heavily but as we climbed the cloud came down and we had to turn around short of our goal. We were soaked to the skin. Back to the hotel for a warm shower and a cup of tea. Reading in the hotel lounge for a peaceful hour was the perfect end to the day.

Staff cheerfully greeted us at six forty five handed the packed lunch we had asked for in lieu of breakfast as we headed back to Dublin and our respective flights home. The simple cheese sandwich was an actual platter with salad and crisps and fruit and impossible to eat in the car! We passed through the border by simply driving along the A roads. There is no boundary as such. In some ways what we were working for has happened. The island is basically one again.

While we were away a man was publicly killed in the USA. We still do not know why at time of writing. It brings to mind the ‘Troubles’. It took a long time for a fragile peace to be established in Ireland. I fear for the USA. We talked about it on our drive both hoping that this doesn’t spark revenge after revenge. Violence is never the answer.

What a week. Lovely to see an old friend. Wonderful to see the glorious countryside. Amazing to remember the part we may have played and the people who did more that we ever could to bring peace. My American friends please take care. Remember that this will pass. Peace takes effort on all sides but mostly inside yourself.

Still here

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For the record COVID 19 has not gone away. People generally are just not testing for it and going on as usual. I’ve had it this week, the new Nimbus strain. It’s nasty. Razor throat, extra sleepy, runny nose, like a cold on steroids. I went out after 5 days because I needed to buy over the counter medication and that is one thing you can’t get delivered. I wore a mask. I stayed away from people as much as possible. I explained to the checkout assistant why I was masked having been asked if I had a cold. I was thanked for having taken it seriously. The woman behind me in the queue looked mildly irritated by someone bothering to take such precautions.

It’s surprising to me that the postman was unaware. Is it still a thing he said.  Before launching the parcel into the porch when I told him I had it. Not a thing but still scary then! It’s still here. It will still seriously damage vulnerable people. It still requires people taking care of each other. Rant over.

Lifesaver

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I am now an official Scuba Lifesaver. Let me tell you it is not an easy course or exam. There’s a theory section (100% scored) and a practical section which includes a chunk on mouth to mouth and heart massage. Basic Life Support or BLS to its friends.

Another section is practical rescue skills in water. There’s an unconscious diver lift, tow and recus, an unconscious snorkeller rescue and three different swim scenarios. The tows are around 25 metres and the true nasty is treading water for two minutes whilst keeping the victims head out of the water…. That comes right at the end after all the rest.

The whole practical takes around an hour. You’ll sleep well after taking that I can tell you. Of course the joy is knowing those skills might save a life (although you hope not to use them ever) and for me knowing I am now able to teach these skills to others.

Last night was our usual pool night a week in from the test. We had three people there to try diving. The pure joy on their faces when they get out after an hour of gentle encouragement and they know they now have the superpower of breathing underwater. I’m hopeful we will see them again for full training with Mid Lancs SAC

The club are more than diving buddies and after ten years with them they are like family. Mid Lancs celebrates 20 years this year. What an amazing feat. It’s all about the volunteers who give their time to teach and support others. So many community groups exist purely on the goodwill of people who give their time and energy. It’s a fantastic thing. Here’s to 20 more years and I hope to celebrate with the club.

Me being the victim for a practice run.

Gym Bunny

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Not really but you get to a certain stage of life as a woman and your body starts attacking you. Here’s the deal. I need to do a bit more weight bearing exercise. Don’t get me wrong I lug a lot of scuba gear about but I need to focus on one or two areas that will make all the difference. Last week I met a personal trainer who is a third of my age and he chatted to me whilst making me work muscles on a series of machines in the gym. I limped home expecting to be really stiff the following day. I wasn’t.  I did go out after my ‘work out’ and had a gentle walk and an art class. (That’s for another post). Sitting still would not have been a good move. I’m ok. A bit sore in a good way.

Looking around at the people in the gym I’m pleased to report that minus one or two young men who were training to preen most people there during the day are of a certain age and clearly there just to do themselves good. No lycra clad gym bunnies here.

I still think we should take notes from the Finnish. In their gyms there is no piped 80/90s dance tunes and people who want music to train too take their own. No earplugs needed. I think I’m Finnish at heart. Respectful quiet is the norm be it on the train or in a coffee shop. People can hear to talk to each other yet even their conversation is quiet. You can’t overhear unless you really try to. Privacy is a two way street. A woman in a cafe in Helsinki while I was there asked another customer to keep her dog quiet. On being told it was none of her business the woman replied “your dog is making it my business”. Mic drop. The dog was shushed.

I suppose this is a polite request for a quieter world. Don’t get me wrong I love concerts and loud music … When I choose to take part but your average gym is just that not a night club.

Siarad Cymraeg

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Two of my nieces and their parents (well, they are only 10 and 5 respectively) have just moved to Wales. The girls are settled in school and the family are enjoying their new life. One thing they have to consider is that the girls will have to learn Welsh as part of their schooling in order to get the best from life there. I think it’s great. Both parents have some Spanish, having lived there in their teens and now it’s time to see the other side where you are the parent in another country debating the need to learn the language.

As a wise old aunty I realise that teens love the idea of secrets from mum and dad. What better way to keep them than to speak a whole new language! Naturally there’s only one thing I can do.. I have to learn Welsh.

Now I’m not saying I’ll ever be fluent but hopefully I’ll know enough to scare the children into believing or worrying that I am. Lol (as the young people say).

I had a Welsh friend at uni many moons ago and started to learn then but you lose touch things drift and there’s no reason to remember so now I’ve gone back to a language app to try again. We went to a pantomime, starring one of the nieces and her mum, over the weekend and I found myself reading (badly) the Welsh language signs and leaflets. I even brought some home. I tried out a phrase or two on the staff and was thanked for my efforts. Apparently my accent is good.

It seems to me a matter of respect to learn something of a country’s language and culture before you go. Even if all you can say is “sorry I don’t speak the language” it shows you’ve made the effort. Trying to explain that Wales is its own country with separate laws and government within the UK is a tough concept for some people.

I’m not about to lecture anyone over their choices. Having a little Spanish when in Valencia a few weeks back made our lives easier (ironically so did having a little Dutch since they formed the bulk of tourists there). People open up to you and show a greater  to help generally (I’m not sure Paris operates on the same rules) gets a smile and care in service. Now I’m not claiming to be any kind of linguist I’m just saying taking a little time and care to be decent to people makes a huge difference.

I’m going to continue with my Welsh lessons. You never know when it could save a niece from a terrible situation.

On the road again…

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I’m off to Valencia. I’ve never been before and it’s 50 years at least since I was in Spain. The journey is part holiday and part Ingress Anomaly. Ingress is an Augmented Reality Game (ARG), which I’ve been playing for a number of years now and which I’m using as the basis for the ole’ PhD. One day (maybe two) will be battling  for my team on the global battlefield, and the rest will be rest.

I wrote the message above before we left on the 30th October. We heard there had been heavy rain. People at the airport were happy enough but as our flight time approached there was increasing concern as I was seeing messages from friends already there that roads were closed and they were having to walk from the airport. The flight took off as planned but staff began talking about the metro system being totally closed … No taxis… City buses may or may not be running…

We arrived to find a queue for taxis which stretched back for hours (talking to people in the queue). Thankfully we snagged an Uber within minutes and made the city and our apartment just before 10 pm. Our hosts were very concerned and very confident that the trip we had planned by train out of the city was not going to happen. Local government information suggested we would be ok at that time.

Then we caught the news.

Waking up in a beautiful restored historical monument of a home in a city searching for it’s own was surreal. The historic centre of Valencia was totally dry and safe thanks to Franco having drained the river years before in case of just such an emergency. This was not something local people wanted to acknowledge had saved lives. We wandered the streets a little dazed. How do you act as a tourist when people are dying just a few miles away? What could we do? Of course the obvious thing was to leave and let the people get on with repairing their city. Naturally flights were booked up and also (naturally) the scalping had begun with one airline raising ticket prices over 500% How is there not international law against this?

We found there was no way out until our planned leaving date anyway and it wouldn’t be our planned route as 3 km of track had been washed away and train tunnels filled with rubble etc. We were not going that way. In fact we ended up flying into Mallorca and then home.

Unsurprisingly the events planned for the weekend had been cancelled. I was more than a little irritated by fellow players complaining about this because they wouldn’t get their badge! FFS! People have died here. That evening we called in to the meet up said our hello’s, ate, collected our game packs and left still wondering what we could do.

The answer turned out to be to donate to the food bank. We took a couple of bags of the things they had requested. It was little enough. This image is one of five collection points half an hour before it was supposed to open. I honestly don’t think it had closed for siesta. There was a lengthy queue of Valencians waiting to bus out as volunteers. The rules were : wear boots and bring a broom.

We saw quite a bit of the old city. The ceramic museum , S Joan and S Nicholas churches, the ancient city wall (part of which we were staying in).  We spent a whole day at Oceanagrafic, the aquarium. We met new friends and found ourselves invited back when the city has recovered. The mayor is in trouble for a breach of his duty of care. The king was covered in mud from the clods thrown at him on his visit but we were invited back. We tried to be thoughtful and respectful. We asked after people their friends and family. They shared their stories and thanked us. Good luck Valencia.

Engerland.

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Well, it’s the world.cup final. Sydney Australia. I can’t pretend to have watched all the games. I am going to watch this though. I was at Cambridge watching Billy Bragg when we won the Euros. Today, I’m home, snacks at the ready. As ever doing better than the men’s team. If these gals don’t win sports team of the year, there is no justice. BBC are you listening, not ‘women’s team’ just team. Full time professional women playing football. First team in the final since 1966. Speed shopping this morning as women rush home.to watch. Remember it’s the Lionesses who do the hunt while the lions laze around. Many a man is losing that argument this morning.

Sadly, whoever loses that nation tends to see a rise in domestic violence against women afterwards. Perhaps since less men are invested in this the cycle will.not repeat. It’s a sad reflection on the fragile male ego that sports teams losing cause such things but proven again and again. If a person’s self-esteem is so small that a team, in which they do not play, losing causes them to lash out.

Spain 1 – England 0 at half time.

Much discussion on our house about the dodgy yellow card just into the second half. (Heavens open a run to bring in the washing.) More shots this half for England, but still Spain win. It has to be said some dirty play, some yellow cards… what a game.

Funny Old Month

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I know it’s been a while. I’ve been distracted by going to stay with my elderly dad. He’s not too steady on his feet but won’t sit still. Mum, on the other hand, is arthritic but won’t stay still (largely because it hurts) and it heavily involved in the WI (Women’s Institute) and the Trefoil Guild of the Girl Guides. Those organisations have conferences. These may involve a long, bust meeting but they also involve a chance to go away with your chums to a nice hotel and have a change of scenery. Mum has been to a couple of these lately. I’m called in to stay with Dad. It’s not a chore. When you consider everything my parents did for me it’s my turn to give back and I do it happily.

Our plan on this occasion was to make some black puddings as well as the usual gardening and running about in the car to fetch this and that. (Dad seldom drives these days and never beyond the village). I’d ordered dried blood, seasoning and groats. Pig fat would be acquired once I’d arrived. The groats were put in to soak overnight. Dad has it in has head that his mum made black puddings with more groats (barley) than blood. This was to be the basis for our attempt. Sadly, the skins we got hold of were not edible, but cleaned intestines do not keep well and can be pretty dangerous if not cleaned thoroughly. We could peel the skins away once the puddings were cooked. We treated back fly on the broad beans, did a run to the farm shop for bird seed and to the butchers for the aforementioned pig fat, picked blackcurrants, and watered the tomatoes. Enough for one day and there’s cricket on the telly.

Day two.

The resulting black pudding

Yep, we succeeded in making a black pudding without making too much mess in the kitchen. It was a little of the recipand a little by dad’s memories, so the resulting out was a little unusual but not bad. It weighed in at close to a kilo. We let it cool and had a slice for breakfast next day. Notes to self : more blood, less barley, and cook the barley first. I still have a stack of ingredients so I’ll experiment with them til we get this as he remembers. The whole thing basically came in kit form and it’s not as hard as you think its going to be. The great thing was to do something he really wanted to do and to try together. Cherish your parents, they will be gone before you know it.

The Queen is Dead

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This is, by now, old news. Its been 11 days or so at time of writing. Most of us in the UK and even the rest of the world have never known another monarch in the UK. I’ve a tendency toward republicanism but I’ve also met the Queen and several other royals in the course of a lifetime through school, Duke of Edinburgh’s Award Scheme and the Guide movement. Its a strange feeling. On the one hand I’m sorry for the family who have not been able to process this in private and on the other I think that this is the price of their privilege. Am I sorry she is gone? Not at a personal level, she was 96 it was hardly unexpected. I do have many fears for the UK though.

Charles is a different character. He has opinions which he has been known to express in public (I guess I should say ‘the King’ not Charles). These seem to contradict the current right wing leanings of the UK government on issues such as the environment and deportations to Rwanda. Technically he can stop these at any time by refusing to sign any Bill into law. I wonder if he would? I wonder what the consequences would be? I’m extremely concerned by the conduct of the current government and wonder how many more losses the British people will stand before someone stands up and throws the first brick. Martin Luther King described a riot as the voice of the unheard. What will it take? I’m fairly certain that it is coming. Elizabeth II is dead and the stability that her presence brought to the nation is gone.

Watch this space.