January, slow and fast.

This is what I see  when I am running.

The rhythms of January are always slow notes for our family, it is a firmly not a time for new resolutions mainly because they are so hard to live up too but more of a time of cosy austerity after the excesses of Christmas. A time of more, not less: more home cooking, more making, more plans for the spring, more contemplation and for me at least more running.  Now the next paragraph or will seem like a whinge fest but please bear with me.

Usually I can find much to love in the crisp linear beauty of January, the subtlety of winter's light but this year I have to confess to finding it hard to appreciate life so easily. In part this is due to the increasingly horrible political developments. Here in Ireland we seem stuck between a rock and a hard hard place, Brexit on one side and foulness of Trump on the other. For example, one of our most successful sectors in our unstable little economy is that of our food and drink exports, the Agri-Food sector has risen for the seventh consecutive year to reach 11 billion. However it has been estimated that Brexit has already cost the Agri-Food industry 570 million. This interests me because I feel a deep connection to the Irish countryside, two of my Great Great Grandfathers were farmers. I want to invest a little bit of money in rural Ireland. I want to live in a country were my children will not have to emigrate to get a job.

For far too long much of our focus has been centered away for rural Ireland particularly towards FDI. Rural communities have been worst hit from the economic crash of 2008 and the shortsightedness of successive governments. Such communities and therefor the wider national community can only benefit from a growth in trade. Tourism is another woefully underdeveloped sector of our economy. We had to give up on the house we wanted to buy in rural Donegal, there were too many financial implications that could not be quantified, but undaunted we carry on hoping that something suitable will pop up. We have found a beautiful farmhouse built into a mountain but despite it being advertised in every Irish property website and via an estate agent; it seems that no one knows whether the property is in fact for sale. Least of all the selling agent!

I have also begun the unexpectedly dispiriting process of applying for a job, it seems that my 15 years experience in the bar/restaurant trade counts for nothing as I had the impertinence to take a career break to look after my pesky children.  I have spent the last six tears studying for a degree that qualified me for little except volunteering for a non-profit. Hmmm, groan and moan. However, I have been working out all my frustrations on and in my running shoes and eventually have fallen into a running routine. Well, oh my goodness I am ecstatic! I feel like a real runner. I wish I could adequately explain to you the marvelous post-run feeling when bursts of endorphin fall exquisitely down to a wonderful glow of energized well-being. CT in one of her gorgeous posts describes the lovely 'clean' feeling that one acquires after a run.

After starting the couch to 5k programme ages and ages ago I still have not managed to get up to a continuous 5k however I can run/walk for 7k. This includes the recommended 5 mins warm-up and warm-down either side and the majority of the time is spent running. Next run I must join it all together, of course the difficulty is mainly psychological. For me what is interesting is that no matter what my mood is before the run and admittedly for much of January it has been grey going on irritable with unexpected bouts of tears, after a run I feel tougher, centered, ready to take on what ever life may bring. On the CV I may be an unemployable house wife on the wrong side of forty but when I am running I feel like this, only with better boobs and a top on. 😏

Reclaiming the Ramparts. (A celebration and a rant!)

Way back in Autumn on a crisp Friday morning I went for a walk in one of my favourite places in Drogheda. The Ramparts walk which follows the banks of the river Boyne from St Dominic's Park to Oldbridge House. one of our most historic sites as it was here that two kings, one Dutch and one English would fight a battle, the memory of which would eventually command an incredible longevity in Irish history. That day was full of calm sunshine, everywhere there was inspiring colour.

 

The grass looks like a Farrow and Ball colour.

 

 I love the stone work on the old mill.

 

 

Hidden pockets of light and shadow.

 

 Turning to look back at the town, almost sepia.

 

 

The river looked beautiful, dressed in shifting alluring reflections and contrasts. In myth and legend, the river was Boyne created by the Goddess Boann who disobeyed her husband Nectain and channelled the power of his magic well so that the waters rose and surged all the way to the sea. But the waters drowned Boann and her faithful dog Dabilla.

This is the fourth river I have lived near and while the sea and the coast are my first loves, I love the slow drama of the riverbank. The Boyne is a tidal river and sometimes her moods are far from subtle. I love(d) the freedom of this walk, safe for the dog to be off-lead for long stretches and the promise of a lovely cup of coffee in the café at Oldbridge House. Sometimes, you may be lucky to be accompanied by a seal, I had no idea these beautiful animals would venture so far into fresh water and was deliciously spooked one day when one raised a sleek grey head to study me. The colour that day has inspired another crochet blanket, about which I have written a little here.

However, I have avoided the Ramparts walk since then and that was due to a shocking incident a couple of weeks later when a female jogger was attacked by a man here at 9.00am. Horrifically, despite falling into the river, the man continued to attempt to assault this poor woman. Profound shock was replaced by anger when the response by the Guardi warning women not to walk or jog alone. The fallacy of this response was eloquently expressed by Una Mullany in the Irish Times here. No one has been arrested following the incident.

I was angry at the attacker, at the police and at myself  - for allowing this mans actions to influence my own behaviour. I love walking with other people but I need to walk alone. It gives me a chance to think or some times not to think.  For me, walking and pushing myself to walk greater distances can become almost a meditative experience. I had planned to eventually continue further and walk part of the Boyne Navigation Canal that ran to the town of Navan. So, I have been waiting for the moment to return and today which began frosty and light was the perfect morning.

By the time I had left the house though it was all grey! Look at the difference in the park,

 

The walk has now been closed thanks to a landslide at the Oldbridge end just where walkers are supposed to join the 800 000 euro boardwalk that is supposed to link these heritage areas. Here are our representatives congratulating themselves yet despite this critical investment for the area, the walkway has been inaccessible from the Drogheda end because the impotent council cannot seem to engineer a solution to the landslide or to bring to account one of the country's biggest developers who built a housing estate on the problematic land. I -on my own responsibility- ignored the closed signs as the majority of the walk is safe and probably the only public land in the locality which is both accessible by foot and where a dog can enjoy essential lead-free time.

 

 

 

Despite this shameful neglect of one of the prizes in our local environment and the fact that I couldn't continue I am glad I walked this route today. I put some demons to rest. Future plans for the area include a walk/cycle way from the Elizabethan Maiden Tower at coastal Mornington through Drogheda to Oldbridge eventually finishing at the UNESCO site of Bru Na Boinne. Wouldn't that be an amazing amenity for the area, so much more valuable to the needs of the local community and our very welcome tourists than yet another empty retail park?

 

If you have stayed to the end of this long post, thank-you so much. Have a fantastic weekend! Can you believe next week it will be March? xxxx

 

The Town at the Ford of Elderflowers.

 

 

This is the thirteenth century St. Laurence's Gate at the bottom of my road, it is one of the finest examples of a medieval barbican gate in Europe. It stands as an imposing protective gateway to the medieval city of Drogheda and is potentially a defence against invasion from the sea. It is one of the main reasons we were so attracted to our street when house hunting.

 

'But', my children say, 'Can you go up it?' Er, well no actually since our local council does see fit to open one of our medieval treasures to allow the people and the tourists of Drogheda to interact with our history, but that is a rant for another post.

'We want a castle!', they said. So, while on holiday during the summer, we took them to St John's castle in the beautiful village of Carlingford, also in Co. Louth.

 

(image from www.geograph.org.uk. copyright jai, licensed for further use.)

 

 

(image from The Dublin Penny Journal 21st July 1832, link here)

 

'But, can you go up it?' they demanded. Well no, sorry but you can walk around it. Look at the lough, can you see the boats? 'That is not a proper castle,' they insisted. 'We want one that we can go inside!'

Right we said, you want a castle! We will give you a castle. So we went on a trip to Trim, Co Meath.

Trim castle is the largest Norman castle in Ireland and was once part of the lands of Hugh De Lacy, the Anglo-Norman lord who founded our own Drogheda.

 

 

Trim is a charming little town also on the banks of the River Boyne and I love its poetical Irish name which is Bailie Atha Troim which means 'town at the ford of elderflowers, isn't that pretty? While the kids and Mr S went exploring the castle I was left to explore and look after Rosie as dogs are not allowed in the grounds of the castle. We found so much to see:

Pretty pastel houses:

 

Incredible vertiginous ruins:

     

 

Beautiful stonework:

 

 

A gorgeous river walk out to Newtowntrim Cathedral:

Leave the castle behind and say ahh to the donkeys,

 

Take a seat on a fallen acorn and look out over the porchfield into the big sky,

 

 

Stroll back into town and wait impatiently for the rest of the family to come back down from the castle so you can nip into the yarny treasure trove that is:

 

Marvel at the knitted goodies in the window:

 

 

Treat yourself to one fat squidgy ball of raspberry pink merino and one downy soft skein of grey alpaca, finish off in the sweetie shop and drive home tired but happy.

 

Later, we ask the children if they thought Trim Castle was a 'real' castle, - 'Hmph', said E with derision, 'It is still just a ruin!'

 

 

 





As if.

 

(Bridget Riley 'Fall')

Thank-you so much for all the kind messages, they mean so much. I thought I would give you an update of the story so far.

A twenty-six year old woman has been charged with the arson attack on my neighbours home.
Three men who were with her at the time have been released without charge.
Anecdotal reports on social media suggest that this woman has a young child.
Some newspapers have reported that the Gardaí believe that this was a random act of violence.
Many cars have been driving down our street very slowly to have a good look at the damaged house.

My neighbour remains in a serious condition in hospital. The man who rescued her sustained serious burns that may require skin grafts.