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. 😏

Mad Dog Lady.

 

So despite firmly insisting to my family, that we were NOT, under any circumstances fostering/adopting or buying another dog until the summer or a fairly large lottery win, when DAR (Drogheda Animal Rescue) called me up and asked if I could be a short-term fosterer to this wee guy...well how could I resist? His name is Bosco and he was found as a stray but also he was terribly bitten by what we assume was a very big dog. Look at his poor poor neck -now this is well on the way to be properly healed so I don't want to imagine what he looked like when he was first found. Now he is with a lovely foster family and is holding his own with four other dogs but his current foster family are going away for a little break so we have him for B&B.

 

You know, he is a delight to look after, placid and playful, much less demanding than our previous guest. He loves to trot around the house with me as I go about my chores and is pathetically pleased when somebody tells him what a good dog he is. He was overcome with ecstasy when Mr S let him sit on his knee for a minute. Mr S loves our dog - to the extent that Rosie gets more attention when he gets in from work that I do but he is not really a small dog person and is slow to see the lovely characteristics of Bosco, despite this of-course Bosco loves him the best! We had our first long walk over the fields today and we noticed that B is terribly frightened of high sided vehicles and he deliberately puts our big Rosie in-between himself and the scary traffic. What is his story? In one way, I am glad that I don't know.

 

Shamefully, Ireland is the worst country in Europe for the sheer number of unwanted and stay dogs every year. We destroy over 84% of our strays and last year 38 000 animals were needlessly destroyed. We have numerous animal welfare charities all courageously doing their bit but mostly these are operating with extremely tight budgets and are at full capacity. Dublin Husky Rescue is just one organisation concentrating on one breed and they are dealing with a surrender rate of 2/3 huskies per day.  Many of our unwanted and discarded pets end up being rehomed in England, Germany or Sweden because in a county of only 3 million there are simply not enough prospective responsible dog owners to adopt. Some of our unwanted greyhounds are re-homed in Italy. Strong and enforced legislation is needed but tragically given Ireland's economic woes over the past few years and our continuing housing, heath and pensions crises, I am sure the plight of these animals will continue. 

 

Happily, little Bosco's troubles have come to an end, it is very cold and damp here today so we are all curled up on the sofa, dogs snoring, coffee brewing and candles lighted.

 

Guys, is there any chance of some room for the crochet please? No?

 

 

After an enjoyable but very busy week we are taking it very easy. I am day dreaming of a future with some more dogged company, an excentric country house perhaps with a few fields and a few rescue critters romping around. A Life in Wellies? The only downside to dog fostering is that one day, some day they will leave. When Rolo went off to his forever home, E was quite upset, she started compiling a list of parental crimes against children as perpetrated by her parents! Thankfully she has been reconciled to the idea of helping out a little dog on part of his journey. Both kids are looking forward to being outside, playing and walking with both dogs over half-term, which to my mind can only be a good thing! Thanks so much for reading Have a wonderful weekend. xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

 

Ice and Shadow.

A world transformed. Sparkling and fresh, pink and white. Finally a morning to quicken the senses, the kids played slides outside on the pavements and reluctantly went off to school, wishing for snow. The dog couldn't wait to get out. She follows me anxiously as I set the house straight and whinnies when I have the temerity to go to the bathroom after putting my boots on. Her eyebrows comically working overtime while I fill my pockets, keys, phone, treats, plastic bags, then open the door and go! Over the fields.

 

The dog takes a great leap into what she thinks is a giant puddle only to find that alarmingly it is now a sheet of ice. She practises reticence at the next great mirrored pool. These fields are not remote, bordered as they are on three sides by the ever encroaching town but are blissfully silent this morning, the only sound the satisfying crisp, crunch, crack of my boot against hard ground and brittle ice. Eventually it is time for home, time to puzzle over the structure of yet another TMA. (Tutor Marked Assignment)

 

Mum, why are you sitting down?

Oh, I agree sweet dog of mine but I am so close to finishing. I have been studying for this degree for six years now, why is it now so close to the end-only five months to go - that I find myself with zero motivation? Two rounds of coffee later and a browse through email/social media/blogs/course forum

 

settles the mind into focus.

Then sure it is just half an hour before the kids come home. Time for a crochet break.

 

 

And a walk with my newest literary crush:

 

 

I can't tell you how much I love this book, Robert Macfarlane is a master storyteller and his love of the land shines out of every page of this wonderful immersing book. His writing is exquisite, this is one to fall into only to emerge with extreme reluctance.

 

I have learned to appreciate January, even though I go into almost a semi-hibernation. These short rhythmic days of walk, study, craft, read, kids, dinner, are pleasing in their simplicity.



 

( Lovely things that I have stumbled over today:

 

http://www.caughtbytheriver.net/2016/01/20/antidotes-9-ben-mcgrath-dick-conant-vinyl-factory-soundway-records-katherine-price-john-cohen-amanda-petrusich-chris-yates-swedenborg-society-catherine-bunigrasscut-amy-liptrot-the-outrun/

 

There is an embarrassment of richness here but I LOVE Katherine Price's blog post, 'Clatter of corvids on a blustery day' and the compelling recording of Chris Yates's walk with his young son in search of a big cat in Wiltshire. 'Nocturne'

 

I have now managed to write half of my TMA and so as a reward I am going to jump into bed with clean PJ's, a hot water bottle, a huge mug of tea and listen to

Amy Liptrot's 'The Outrun' on Radio 4

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b06wclxn)

 

Goodnight! xxxxx

 



Winter's Light

Sometimes, it is just a perfect day. I think Winter is my favourite season largely and contrarily because those days of brilliant crisp sunlight are so rare and fleeting.

"One of the secrets of a happy life, is continuous small treats"

Iris Murdoch. The Sea, The Sea

Nollaig na mban.

Hello! Happy New Year and Merry Nollaig na mban!

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and are easing slowly back into the post-Christmas routine. After days and days of torrential rain when it seems as though the hours of daylight diminished to a few sparse minutes, it seems fitting that this morning should rise into a beautiful crisp sun-shiny winter morning. Today in Ireland is Nollaig na mban or Little Christmas/ Women's Christmas where it was traditional (in the West mostly I believe) for the women to take the day off from the grind of the household tasks and celebrate with friends and relations leaving the men behind. I must admit until moving here I had never heard of this custom, we never celebrated it in my own family in the North. This year I had forgotten about it until listening to the radio this morning.

Of - course the relevancy of this custom is somewhat suspect - shouldn't the division of domestic and the caring tasks be fairly distributed by now? However, in a world where the issues of equality and concerns of the feminist movement are still acutely relevant; I think that  Nollaig na mban still deserves special notice,  it is important to both celebrate the power of our femininity, the strength of the women who contribute/ have contributed to our lives and generally nourish our spiritual and physical selves. My little girl was very interested in celebrating Nollaig na mban unfortunately she had to be packed off to school this morning but in the future we shall take it as a day just for ourselves or get together with friends and family.

I am going to put my feet up, drink some coffee and reacquaint myself with the lives of some incredible Irish women. This year is the centenary of the 1916 Rising, the nascent emergence of Ireland as an independent nation and the beginnings of a century of great change in the lives of many women. Some women did not wait for change they pioneered it.

Maud Gonne: Political Activist, Irish Nationalist, Spiritualist, Actor and Muse of W.B. Yates. The Woman's Peace Committee. The Women's Prisoner's Defence League.

 

Countess Markievicz: Revolutionary, Socialist, Suffragette, first woman to be elected to the British Parliament, formed the 1st Dail Eireann, Minister for Labour of the Irish Republic, Artist, founded Fianna Eireann, joined Irish Citizen Army, key activist in the Rising and on the Republican side in the Civil War.

 

 

Hannah Sheehy Skeffington: Teacher, Suffragette, Irish Nationalist, Political activist, founding member of the Irish Women Worker's Union, assistant editor of An Phoblacht.

 





1916 was also the birth year of a very important woman in my life, a woman who did not break out of the conventions that the patriarchy and indeed sectarianism that (Northern) Irish Society had set down for her but a remarkable person nevertheless, at times infuriating but with a fierce love for all her family. She held a profound faith but had a sharp realism about the sexist confines of Catholicism . She left school at 14 and became a mill girl but wrote secret lines of poetry and reminisced fondly about being told that she could draw very well. She brought up six children and partly one grand-daughter for whom she would buy great piles of second-hand books out of her sparse pension.

J.H. 1916-2010.

Happy Women's Christmas to you all! 2015 was a very good year for our family and I am really looking forward to whatever 2016 will bring. What are you hoping for this year? Who was inspired you thus far? Bye for now - here's hoping my blogging will be a tad more regular. ;)

Interlude

 

Hello, isn't this just a crazy film? I was going to post up the old faithful of the potter's wheel especially as I have been considering running off to study ceramics after avidly watching the Pottery Throw down programme but the Daleks and mad bad baby doll won lands down. So sorry to have been awol for so long but I have been just run off my feet and have fallen so far behind in my Open University studies I feel as if I am never going to catch up!
This is my final year and while I am quietly elated just to have gotten this far, I am also fairly overwhelmed with the sheer volume of work I need to complete before June. Taking a whole week off to tour around beautiful West Cork at half term and yet another weekend to visit family in London was such brilliant fun but I'm left with a bit of a pre-Christmas panic. So much to do so little time! So I am going to have to put my little blog on hold for a just a couple of weeks just to get my head above the water once more.

I have to confess to feeling a little sad with the growing discrepancy between what I have to do and what I need to do. I'm sure that we all feel like this from time to time. I also have a lovely long list of half-completed crafty projects and really-need-to-do-very-soon crafty projects...
As sweet golden Autumn has turned into dank grey November, it is quite onerous to have to apply oneself to the rigors of Political Theory instead of curling up beside the fire with a good book/crochet/knitting or quilting. I have been peeping in at the wonderful socks that have been curling off the needles at Winkhan Mum's sock along on Facebook and really really want to join in. I have also joined up with Netgalley and want to bring you some extra book chat as well as showing you all the completed (hopefully!) crafty and Christmas projects.

Just to tie up a couple of loose ends, we found a lovely new home for Rolo, in a dairy farm by the sea! Apparently he settled in quite well and has three other dogs to play with. It was quite upsetting at first to part with him but at the same time, yet so rewarding to play a little part in a happy ending. I'm still running - just. I completed a 20 minute jog, which was unbelievably difficult and totally exhilarating and started to see a slight shrinking in the waist. But, my runners need replacing and I'm experiencing sever pain in my feet due to the lack of support so it has been too easy to put off the runs till tomorrow. So, a significant investment in both runners and walking boots has to be made this week and a significant investment of time has to be put towards my degree. Thanks so much for reading this far and I hope to be back very soon. Take care. xxxxx

Port Oriel waits for spring.

Most mornings when I am taking the dog for her daft gallop around the fields, I happen to meet a couple of fellow dog walkers who love to keep me updated with the weather forecast. It doesn't matter that I have a smart phone with the latest satellite photos, local up-dates from Met Eireann and forecasts from most international destinations. No, what is important is the exchange of information, the human interaction and the universality of the connection, we care about the conditions that we may potentially have to brave with our faithful hounds come what may.

These guys, well lets just say they are men of the more mature vintage and have a strict timetable, if I am slightly later or more rarely earlier with my walk they are always in exactly the corresponding bit of their route, so the paper shop, the school or the traffic lights etc.. The bit of the connection I enjoy the most is when they are gleefully eager to share the most pessimistic, horrendous report possible. So yesterday, my optimistic opener that was 'Lovely mild morning!' was skilfully rebuffed with a 'Ho but tomorrow is gale force winds and torrential rain!' Great! He was correct.

It has been very grey and wet for days and days here, not freezing but that damp cold wetness that seeps into your very matter and saps the energy to do little but eat hot comforting food, read in a steaming bath and craft/snooze by the fire. It is strange to think that it is almost February and in Ireland that means it is the first day of spring. February 1st is celebrated as St Brigit's day, the first day of Imbolc or quarter day of the Irish pagan year. Some of the legends about her, claim that she was born in Dundalk, Co Louth so making her a local legend.

The Christian version has her as a contemporary of St Patrick and a devoted Christian nun, doing the usual priggish deeds like looking after her father, feeding the animals, founding monasteries, giving away her mother's butter to the poor and protecting her virginity. However, there are also many older and for me alluring, legends locating her within ancient Irish mythology as from the supernatural Tuatha Dé Danann. She is the goddess of fire, a conduit of the power of femininity, of birth and all the pastoral rites of spring.

The last big family walk we had was two weeks ago and oh it felt like spring then. We started at the harbour at Port Oriel and walked over the cliff to the beautiful sandy beach at Clogherhead. The air was so clear, the Mourne and Cooley mountains rose majestic across the bay and the sky was many many shades of blue. I wanted to lie down on the fragrant grass and watch the clouds but there were too many cow pats! The children had not wanted to come out but with a little gentle persuasion they hopped in the car and it was so good to see them running free over the headland and slipping and sliding down the muddy paths. Come and have a walk with us...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The highlight for them was watching the grey seal fish for it's dinner in the little harbour. Great memories. I am so glad I picked up the camera to record such a lovely day to sustain the heart through the next week which is supposed to be rotten. My sympathy goes out to all those people who have been flooded out for weeks on the Somerset levels. Perhaps the changing of the seasons as we move closer to the light will bring some relief. What green shoots are you looking forward too? Horticultural ones or creative ones perhaps?

A happy St Brigit's day to you all, Virgin and God/dess alike!