Grannymar

My father was a pessimist and always felt the tiles of life were stacked a mile high against him. My late mother-in-law (who unfortunately I never met) came from a very different school of thought. She was often quoted for saying ‘You make your own luck’! I like that school. I have found that when I think positive thoughts, that positive things happen. At times you may have to wait in line; and then suddenly like Dublin busses, the good things come in twos or threes.

Yesterday was such a day.

I woke to find the frost of the previous five days had finally gone from my garden. This rise in temperature is normally followed with rain. Monday’s rain was lazy rain. It hung in the air like a thick layer of London war time smog! It was Impossible to see the end of the garden.

I had reason to go down the town so the debate began in my head, would I walk or drive? I hate driving in fog. The month of December brings out the worst in many car drivers they turn into accidents waiting and wanting to happen. My hip was complaining, yet it needed the exercise. Yes? No! Yes? No! The argument went on. The foot soldiers won. Out came the bright red anorak, I wrapped up warm and headed off.

The journey downhill was painful and the extra effort of side stepping dog litter on the pavements an added nuisance. I managed to complete my tasks bought a fresh loaf of muesli bread and turned for home. It was then I saw the smiling face approaching.

I knew the gentleman for about fifteen years. He and his wife Dympna moved to this area when he retired. Dympna was a talented organist and sang like a bird. Alas her health deteriorated in the last five years. He slowly took on more and more of the household chores. We often met by chance while shopping and he always had time for a few words. It has been a couple of months since we met and today his words were tinged with sadness. “I am on my own now” he informed me and went on to tell me about his wife’s last weeks. “I thought you knew” he said, but I didn’t and nobody had thought to come and tell me.

His eyes brightened as he told me that I spoke to her on her last day out in the car with him. He had taken her for a drive and stopped to buy some fruit on the way home. I was coming down the street and seeing her in the car stopped to say hello. Being a cold day I sat into the car and chatted for about 20 minutes. Eventually I went about my business and it was only today I realised why he was away so long.

As he approached the fruit counter in the supermarket he slipped on grapes that had fallen on the floor. He careered to the ground hitting his head on the metal edge of the fruit stand. Health and safety bells and whistles swung into action and the staff wanted to call an ambulance. He refused, thinking only of his wife, a non driver and unwell, sitting outside in the car. Despite his protests he was taken upstairs to the office where accident report forms were filled in and signed. More worried about his wife left alone in the cold weather he rushed back to her.

My chatting to Dympna was the perfect distraction and she had not realised that he was away so long. He was so relieved and today that relief was obvious as he recounted the events of that day. So next time you see someone you know alone, go talk to them, you may never realise the good you are doing.

My pains forgotten I walked back up the hill with new energy!

Then in the afternoon I discovered that ‘Homepages’ a unique collection of stories and photographs from fifty Irish bloggers and photographers, compiled into a fund-raising book for the homeless charity Focus Ireland was launched and being published via Lulu.com. on a print on demand basis for a mere €14. ALL the money goes to the charity, which provides services and support for people who are homeless across Ireland.

Catherine Brodigan is the inspiration behind this project and she has done a wonderful job, coordinating and compiling the final work and I am greatly honoured to be part of it. Click here to order your copy!”

UPDATE: €4.61 per copy goes to Focus (the remainder is manufacturing costs and publisher’s fee).

If we had Bibles like these when I was young…

I might have joined the choir

There is more to the Good Book than we realise

Earlier in the week I had a book in my hand and it brought back memories.

Memories of the many Usborne titles.

The memories it invoked were like this:

And this:

The item this week was a little different. It was bright, colourful and very useful. In fact I wouldn’t mind having a copy myself. It was The Usborne Cookbook for Children.

• A bumper cookbook with 70 recipes taken from “The Usborne Children’s Cookbook” and “The Children’s Book of Baking”.
• Contains both sweet and savoury recipes, including chicken stir-fry, salmon fishcakes, pizzas, ice-cream, mint choc chip muffins and a classic chocolate cake.
• Each recipe is explained in simple step-by-step instructions and clear illustrations.
• A super spiral-bound edition of two excellent recipe books for budding cooks.

It would make a wonderful gift for a fledgling cook out there of any age. The recipes were modern simple and inviting.

No! I am not writing a book or dishing the dirt on what happened on the couch with Twenty! We had witnesses and if I pay them enough they will say nuttin, right Conn? Steph?

I can report that there is an new addition to my family. The family of Toyboys that is. Another fine young man he is too. We met on that wonderful night of glitz & glam 1st March. He was so bowled over by me the enthusiasm of the bloggers that he raced home to take part in the fray. The result is AJ@Lecraic

Now Alan fell so deeply in love that night he wanted a permanent reminder, and the result of his labours can be found here:

http://www.lecraic.com/2008/04/27/irish-blog-awards-the-book/

It is an online book about the awards with a page for each of the winners. Alan wrote to all 21 of us, but you know how it is, people are busy and put things on the long finger. So this is called 1st edition and hopefully those winners unable to find their page can get in touch with Alan and the page will be added.

If you are feeling lazy Grandad has it on his site so you can flick through the pages quickly.

Ian wrote about ‘Unhappy school days. It rather opened an old wound for me. So far I have skirted around those years trying to convince myself that I was over them.

Primary school was normal enough I think, apart from all the days I was kept at home to open the door and allow the doctor in to see my mother, unfortunately her health was not the best at times. Among other problems she had a serious heart attack when I was ten. I was also needed to prepare meals for the family. I remember my first attempts at making dinner involved going upstairs to find out from mammy what to do at every stage. The meals were cooked on the gas stove or in the oven. I avoided the grill as I considered it dangerous. My father and brothers would consume at least five potatoes each without those for my mother, sister and myself. Peeling the potatoes and vegetables took an hour each day. I became quite adept at making stews and casseroles. My eldest brother helped when food was cooked and pans and dishes were hot. No way as a slight small 8-10 year old was I capable of lifting them. Daddy NEVER entered the kitchen and expected his food on the table as usual! Homework! Why would I need to do that, when there were men to be fed!

At secondary level I went to a new school (3 years old) run by the order of Nuns that taught my mother. We had to sit a written examination to gain entrance. Our class of thirty whittled down to 15 after Intermediate Certificate. We were constantly reminded that it was a College (this allowed them charge higher fees) and that they did not teach us - they educated us! Their main priority was to reduce the debt incurred in building the school. We had a wonderful Gym, equipped with bars, ropes, horse, mats etc. It was the envy of many another school and we used it only as a supplementary examination hall! The pupils’ parents were bombarded with books of raffle tickets on a weekly basis, at least 12 books at a time. I refused to take them home – I was the only one with nerve to stand up and say so.

It was the early 60’s and I was one of 6 children, my father had spent almost a year in and out of hospital. Daddy was diagnosed with Addison’s disease, a visit to the library told my eldest brother and I that it was fatal. At that time there was no cure. My reading of the situation at the time was that if my mother handed out money for 12 books of raffle tickets to me each week then she would have to do the same for my 5 siblings. At that point there were three of us in Fee paying schools. No way was I going to ask for £12 a week.

No allowance was made for late developers, slow learners or difficult home situations. Pupils were told which subjects they were allocated, there was no such thing as choice. Abuse both physical and mental was employed on a daily basis. If you didn’t keep up you were lost from the radar. Pupils not thought to bring glory were encouraged to leave. I was considered a rebel and not at all bright.

Reading was not a priority in our home. Latin and French were difficult for me, Irish was a torture. The fact that if you failed Irish you failed the whole exam in those days, added to my burden. Back then Irish was not standardised and in one school year alone we had four teachers. They happened to come from the four provinces, Ulster, Leinster, Munster, and Connacht, each with their own dialect. To my ear they were four different languages. I never really recovered.

Maths I managed but science was not offered to me. Art and Domestic Science were on my programme and I actually knew more about cooking and hygiene than the teacher. She knew little about sewing, but a sister of my father’s took me under her wing and nurtured in me the love of the needle.

By now you all know my level of English! Elly constantly corrects my grammar and spelling. The fact that I am borderline dyslexic adds to the problems. Reading justified text, or light print on a dark background is torture. There are many blogs I would love to read, but if I have to struggle to find the content in amongst the flashing lights, bells, whistles and distracting adverts, well I walk away. Am I the only one to do so?

The nuns did try to move me out. Mammy stood her ground; she had to leave school at 16 in favour of her brothers’ education, so she was determined to let me go as far as the boys. I passed my leaving certificate with a couple of honours thrown in, much to everyone’s surprise. I was glad to leave school and never returned for any of the reunions.

My best pal was at school with me. Despite distance, family and other commitments we are still close and in touch on a regular basis. She has been a second mother for Elly, and her sons the brothers Elly never had. As I often say some good came out of those dark years!

Ann of the pigtails For the Long Run had a very simple little meme, she was originally tagged by Babaloo to try it.

Here are the rules:

* Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. (No cheating!)
* Find Page 123.
* Find the first 5 sentences.
* Post the next 3 sentences.
* Tag 5 people.

My choice of book is:

Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes, by Martha Long.

It is a heart-rending true story of her early childhood in the slums of 1950’s Dublin. Martha was born a bastard to a teenage mother, who moved from man to man, as more children arrived, they lived hand-to mouth in squalid, freezing tenements, dressed in rags and having to beg for food. Then Jackser came into their lives….

Now for page 123 - Martha is telling us about Jackser:

(It works best if you read it with a strong Dublin accent!)

I put the coat on me, an it went down te me shoes. Then he lifted me by the neck, opened the door, an roared, ‘Get back on the streets. An if I see ye aroun, ye’re fuckin dead!’

Every time I look at the cover of this book the little girl’s pretty face reminds me of Chris at Ms Cellania! Do you agree?

Now if you fancy trying this meme consider yourself tagged.

Today on several blogs I read about another book for Charity called Our Grannies Recipes.

Our Grannies’ Recipes is a production of Mercier Press Ltd. (www.mercierpress.ie). They have opened a website especially for this production and describe it as:

A site that gathers together the recipes that have been favourites of Irish families for generations. Using the recipes posted on the site, Mercier Press will publish a book called Our Grannies’ Recipes in October 2008 as a hardback priced at €14.99. For every copy sold Mercier will donate a royalty to Age Action Ireland

I almost posted a recipe, but then stopped to think a little more about it!

Mercier Press publishes books as a business, right? If I went to them to publish a book they would have reams of regulations about my or their rights to the final publication. ‘Money’ would play a Big part in the discussion e.g. how much minimum I might expect for say 100 copies sold, or 1,000 copies or even 10,000 copies and how many copies per print run. The cut that Mercier Press required would also be mentioned I am sure.

At this stage of the proceedings for ‘Our Grannies Recipes’ I am sure that within Mercier Press all the money issues have been sorted, particularly the %-age for the Charity chosen. Note I said %, now is it O%, 1%, 51% or 99% I wonder?

Before I contribute to any charity I like to know how much ACTUALLY goes to the charity and how much is spent on Administration.

When this is made clear I will reconsider whether or not to contribute!

What do you think?

# UPDATE

Thank you Eoin for your speedy reply on behalf of Mercier Press to my blog post and the comment I made on your site.

Please see comments below for the update.

Todays Podcast tells the story of what happened on the way to Omagh.

Something I found in the Elly’s old Bookcase