Grannymar

A couple of days with bright sunshine brings a warm glow to many a heart.  On the off chance that it continues I’ll begin with a summer-time tip for days by the sea.

To soothe a jellyfish sting and relieve itching douse the area with vinegar.

Who asked about mosquito bites?  To relieve the itch, apply hand soap to the area for instant relief.

Non gel toothpaste makes an excellent salve for burns.

To prevent wicker furniture turning yellow, clean it by scrubbing with a stiff brush dipped in warm salt water.  The salt will do the trick.

To remove food smells from plastic storage boxes, fill with warm water and add a little dry mustard.  Let it soak for an hour or more and then wash as normal.

When you look through a window, what do you see?

I suppose it depends whether you are looking out or looking in.  I have on occasion looked out while looking in.  This happens in my back garden when the sun is shining.  Looking towards the glass I see a reflection of the garden, no wonder the birds are forever stunning themselves and landing in a heap on the ground.

Sometimes looking out through a window, the view or some aspect of it, turns my thoughts inward.

This happened to me on Saturday while at the Waterfront Hall.  We stopped for a quick coffee in one of the bars and as I moved to sit by the window my eye was drawn to a sculpture on the other side of the glass.

A gentleman sitting on a barrel.  By his side and at his feet were the tools of his trade.  He was a Cooper.

We did not have the opportunity to go out onto the roof level for a closer look at the sculpture or find out who the Sculptor was.  To be honest I never asked I will go back and ask some day.  I became engrossed with the little man on the barrel.  I was thinking of ‘Red Dick’ a man I never met. By the time I awoke from my reverie it was time to move on to the next level.

( () )–( () )–( () )

Red Dick was my maternal grandfather and he was a Cooper by trade with one of the Distillers in Dublin in days gone by.  Alas, he died before I was born.  The ‘Red’ in his name came from the colour of his hair, it was much the same as Tommy’s!  In fact he came from Murroe, Co Limerick, a place mentioned by Tommy the other day.  I have talked about that branch of the family in a Podcast back in August 2007.  Our records go back to my 3rd Great Grandfather (1763-1836) and a branch of the family is still in residence.  In the Great Potato Famine c.1854 the old Homestead was a soup kitchen with funds provided by American Quakers.

UPDATE: Thanks to Alice we now know that The Barrel Man was the inspiration and work of Artist & Sculptor Ross Wilson Visit his website for information about other pieces in and around Belfast.

Peanut Fingers

6ozs rich tea biscuits

1oz caster sugar

2ozs margarine

2 level tablespoons golden syrup

4 tablespoons peanut butter

chocolate to cover.

Crush the biscuits.  Put the sugar, fat and the golden syrup in a saucepan and stir over a low heat until melted.  Remove from heat, stir in peanut butter and crushed biscuits.  Press into swiss roll tin, leave in a cool place to set and cover with melted chocolate.  When almost set cut into squares.

Belfast’s Waterfront Hall was designed by local architects Robinson McIlwaine and opened in 1997.  It cost £32 million and it took five years from the design & planning stage to the completion of the building.  The building is glass fronted, circular and at night appears to float on the River Lagan. Facilities include a main auditorium, BT Studio, 16 meeting rooms, two bar areas and a restaurant.

On the opening night, 17 January 1997 a special concert featured the Ulster Orchestra, pianist Barry Douglas and flautist James Galway.

On Saturday I joined these ruffians handsome gents who are all members of the Belfast Flickr Group for a private tour of the building.  Once again our special thanks must go to Andy for organising the day and to Adam for his patience as camera lenses were poked in every nook and cranny from the rafters to the basement.  It was the same wonderful Adam who only two months previously had herded an even larger group round The Ulster Hall

I have visited The Waterfront (as we call it locally) on many occasions and usually the concourses are filled with the sound of chatter, laughter and expectation, while in the main auditorium the audience settles into a hushed silence of anticipation before a show begins.

Yesterday it looked like we almost had the place to ourselves.

While floors below in the bowels of the basement:-

Miles of cables provide power and stores sit waiting for use….

We moved through offices, passed sound and lighting boards

to the area way above the world of Theatre.

I felt a litte like the famous Phantom.  We looked down at the auditorium as it was prepared for the evening show.

The auditorium

An finally looking out from the inside.

And on the otherside

My photos may not be as perfect as those of the Big Boys, but they tell a story and give the flavour of the day and place.  I hope you enjoyed the tour.

I like Coffee!

Coffee is not just a drink.

I like iced coffee and Coffee Helps & the Coffee Maker.  They are people.  They are Bloggers & Twitterers that I have met in real life.

iced coffee takes great photos.  The Coffee Maker makes great coffee & Coffee Helps tells great stories of her travels around Europe.

Hailey from Coffee Helps is home in Norn Iron for a couple of weeks and I was anxious to catch up for a real live chat.  The word soon spread, and on Thursday evening Hails, D@\/e, Nelly, Hannah, Ed Hillan and I gathered for coffee and a good old chat.  Topics covered cats, dogs, chickens, a nasty fox and a clarinet.  Mother’s, mothers-in-law and prospective unions were in the ring too.  We touched travel, troubles, politics and blogging, the craic was mighty and the laughter rang from the rafters.  A very enjoyable evening indeed.

Now when is the next one….

Belfast Flickr Group are meeting at noon and The Waterfront Hall is in our sights today.

I might be missing for some time.

It is all go here.  I am trying to answer an email, chat to a toyboy in Dublin, my brother in Melbourne and then the mobile rings….

A taxi man is waiting outside the Black Horse pub to pick me up!!!!  The pub is somewhere in the North of England.

I should have told him to hang on and wait for me.

Who said my life was dull?

He was sitting silently on the floor with his legs crossed, right outside the apartment door. He had been there for hours. I could see him through the peephole. The doorbell had stopped buzzing about 9pm. How did he get into the building? The front door from the street opened by a buzzer system or a tenant’s key. I had no phone buzz to ask admittance, somebody must have held the door open and allowed him through.

It was not the first time.

He was there a week previously and rang the bell at fifteen minute intervals before finally leaving at about midnight. Tonight he looked like he was there to stay. I hoped one of the other tenants would venture out into the hall on their way to or from the laundry room in the basement. Nobody stirred. The building was always very quiet it was one of the things that appealed to me about the apartment. I seldom saw my neighbours. We were all out at work every day. Our contracts did not allow for loud music and baths were forbidden after 10.30pm on a week night, in case the running and emptying water disturbed our neighbours on the other floors. There was no restriction about early morning bathing.

The building was four floors high with the owner having his office and living quarters in the pent house. The Janitor lived in the basement and we also had laundry and drying rooms down there. On each of the three floors between these two were four apartments. Mine was on the first floor up at the back of the building so there was no way of knowing if I was at home other than by pressing the buzzer. The large windows in my living room, bedroom and bathroom faced the back garden and there was no access from the street.

I was home early and it was still daylight when he arrived and rang the bell on my inner front door. The only other person to ring that internal bell was the Janitor. I didn’t have the radio switched on and there was no need for lights. I was writing letters to my family and friends back in Ireland so the place was silent. The carpet swallowed any sound from my stocking feet as I approached the door to look through the peephole. There was no way I would open that door!

When darkness fell I refrained from switching on any lights so as not to draw attention to the fact I was there. I had no telephone and we had no mobiles in the early seventies, so without going outside I had no way of calling for assistance. Once I stayed inside there was no danger. Staying calm I got into bed.

I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep! I counted sheep. It didn’t work. I named my 657 thousand cousins and was still wide awake. I looked through the peephole and he was still there and not sleeping either.

I poured myself a stiff drink and planned what I would do in the morning. In the morning! What was I talking about? It was already dawn. The drink relaxed me and my head grew heavy, I must have dozed off.

I woke with a jump! It was the sound of the door to the stairwell closing that woke me. I went to look through the peephole once more and to my great relief the intruder had gone!

My problem was I knew who he was.

His wife worked with me, we got on well together and I really liked her. She had invited me to join them for dinner a month previously. At the time I had no car, there was no need for one since I was within walking distance of work. The wife drove me to her home straight from work and at the end of an enjoyable evening the husband offered to drop me back to my apartment. Accepting the lift, I thought nothing of it, I had lifts before from other friends and there was no problem. That night things were different. The husband once in the car and a safe distance away from his home, made advances that were way beyond the bounds of decency. I threatened to report him to the police and got out of the car as fast as I could. I ran all the way home and thankfully he didn’t follow me.

That was the longest and loneliest night of my life. I felt dirty and damaged. I broke the house rules and ran a bath. No amount of bathing would wash those memories from my brain. I didn’t go to the police. I was in a foreign country, a guest at this man’s home, a passenger in his car, we had drink taken and it was my word against his. He was a married man and back then women were not really believed in such situations.

So now I had decisions to make. I dressed for work and prepared what I would say. It was not easy telling my colleague what her husband was doing. She was not surprised or shocked, but aware that he was out the night before and on several other nights recently. It turns out they had problems in the past and they were surfacing once more. She called for medical help and he was admitted to the psychiatric ward of the local hospital. From then on, much as I tried to leave those dark events behind me, my job lost its lustre so I handed in my notice and made arrangements to return to Ireland.

Slowly and with time the memories faded and I was able to live a normal life. Good friends, love and laughter returned and life was worth living once more.

A bear walks into a bar in Ballinasloe. He bangs on the bar with his paw and demands a beer.

The bartender approaches and says, “We don’t serve beer to bears in bars in Ballinasloe.”

The bear, becoming angry, demands again that he be served a beer.

The bartender tells him again, more forcefully, “We don’t serve beer to belligerent bears in bars in Ballinasloe.”

The bear, very angry now, says, “If you don’t serve me a beer, I’m going to eat that lady sitting at the end of the bar.”

The bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve beer to belligerent, bully bears in bars in Ballinasloe.”

The bear goes to the end of the bar and, as promised, eats the woman. He comes back to his seat and again demands a beer.

The bartender states, “Sorry, we don’t serve beer to belligerent, bully bears in bars in Ballinasloe who are on drugs.”

The bear says, “I’m NOT on drugs..”

……….You’re gonna love this……..

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The bartender says, “You are now. That was a    barbitchyouate.”

Happy Birthday Ellybabes!

Now down to business…

To polish silverware sprinkle dry baking soda on a damp cloth rub, rinse, dry and enjoy.

Balm for broken blisters… To disinfect a broken blister, dab on a few drops of Listerine mouth wash, a powerful antiseptic.

Chewing Gum in your child’s hair - A small dab of peanut butter rubbed into hair and the gum comes right out.

Erase white spots on mahogany by spreading a thick coat of Vaseline over the spots. Let it stand for 48 hours before wiping clean.

After a long day on the beach, you may develop black beach tar on your feet. Not to worry. Just rub them with some toothpaste and take dip in the sea to rinse!

“Mum! Can we have potatoes in their skins tonight?” asked the skipping little figure by my side. It was about 8.30 am and we were on our way to school. The journey downhill was over a mile and to vary it we jogged, hopped or skipped as we talked. We remembered our recent holiday and the fun in the swimming pool, the man in the book shop at the resort and the places we visited. The excitement was building as the end of term drew nearer and plans for the first school trip were announced.

On the last lap of the journey along the avenue we decided what I would cook for dinner to go with the potatoes in their skins. As we reached the school gate, two arms reached up to give me a hug and a kiss to keep me going until 2pm when I would once again stand at the same spot to receive another kiss and a hot little hand to hold on the homeward journey.

Elly was actually reading before she started primary school aged four. Once she started there was no stopping her. A sponge was to water as her brain was for words. If there were no books available then she read the blurb on the cereal or biscuit packets. The very first proper book that she managed to read alone was Winnie the Pooh by A. A. Milne. It was quickly followed by The Folk of the Faraway Tree by Enid Blyton and Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl.

My post yesterday with recipes for baked potatoes, was a tip towards this little piece in a round about way.

As we cleared away the dinner dishes I asked how she liked the ‘jacket potatoes’. Elly stopped mid action and word, and a beam of enlightenment broke all over her face. “So that is what they were talking about!” she said, as she continued to tell me about the Folk of the Faraway Tree.

“Did you think they were wearing tweed jackets like Dad’s with buttons down the front?” I asked.

“Yes!” she nodded and suddenly began to giggle at the very idea.

Tomorrow the 6^th of May I hope you enjoy books, words and giggles. Find time to hold hands, share hugs and kisses and have a wonderful Birthday.