Grannymar

It all began with a post I wrote about Shoe Shopping and the arrival of a 24-hour shoe shopping channel.

Frank B Smith left a comment

I buy most of my shoes on line, but my foot must be the model for the last in my size. I recall, when I was in the army (US) in Viet Nam, we would get new boots delivered by helicopter through holes we cut in the jungle. I could put on a set of ‘9 regulars’ and walk all day, which was lucky, as I was the medic and had to care for everyone else’s feet :-/
Now I look for good buys on Doc Martins. I got one pair for $13!

The mention of ‘9 regulars’ triggered a memory for me.

My father wore a size 9(UK) shoe.  In fact he only began wearing shoes in the early to mid sixties.  Prior to that he wore a Lee Boot.  There seemed to be no weight in the boots as they were made from very soft leather.  I know that because shopping for shoes was treated in the same way as visiting the kitchen.  He didn’t!  I was sent in to Bill, the buyer in a shoe store to make the purchase.  Bill was a friend and contemporary of my father.  If Bill found it strange that a young girl in her early teens bought her father’s footwear, he said nothing.  Mind you I remember taking my brothers in to be fitted for their sandals at the beginning of each summer.

Daddy made several visits to London on business through the late 50s and early sixties.  While sitting on the tube one day, he became aware of ‘Teddyboys’ - his term – looking him up and down in what he felt was an intimidating way.  Once home he decided it was time to change his style of footwear.  As it happened my eldest brother was about to get married so we all chided daddy about not buying his own shoes for the wedding.  One of my brothers and I took him to town and into a branch of Saxone.  The shoes were displayed along the wall, a new idea at that time, and we thought it might make the selection process easier.

I lifted a shoe off the wall and handed it to daddy to examine.  It was not the correct size and I was about to explain that he could lift any of the styles and examine it before asking to try it in his size.  Before I had finished the sentence a salesman appeared at our elbows and enquired if he could help us.  My father unprepared for this and feeling like a thief with the evidence in his hands, said: “I’ll have these!”

Trying to control my giggles, I explained to the sales man that it was a first venture into a store like this and to give us a few minutes.  Eventually we made a selection of three styles for trying and the next stage of the adventure began.  We had to force him to walk up the floor.  The final selection was made and with that I ended my days of buying his shoes.

I went looking for references to Lee Boots, which I remembered coming from County Cork.  This is where the cook I mentioned in the title of this post comes in.  Martin Dwyer began working as a chef in 1972.  He now works as a freelance Consultant Chef.  The link above takes you to the story of his family and the connection to the Lee Boots!

For over a decade I have not wanted to know about my Birthday.  It had nothing to do with the advancing years.  No.  It was more to do with situations that happened on the date rather than the day.

On my fiftieth birthday I took Jack for a hospital appointment with his Consultant.  On arrival we were informed that the Consultant had been called away for an emergency situation and that we were to be seen by a member of the team.  Since the appointment was routine, we agreed.

It was the wrong decision.  The young Registrar that was assigned to us, was still wet behind the ears and had plenty to learn about dealing with patients.  With two sentences he took away all hope for the most positive person that I have ever met.

TWO SENTENCES!

They were offered in a throwaway fashion equivalent to: Two slices of toast for breakfast would be a waste, you won’t have time to finish the first one!  It was the only time I ever put in a complaint about a member of any medical team.  Thankfully it was taken seriously.

One year later on that day, I followed the ambulance as Jack was transported for admission to the Hospice for his final seven weeks on this earth.

In the intervening years I have tried to ignore my birthday.  Yes there were cards, phone calls, texts and gifts, but I accepted them through a vacant haze.

Elly managed the situation well.  Mother’s Day in Ireland often fell in the week of my birthday, so the card covered both and came on the latter.  Our gifts to each other seldom arrive on the particular day.  A birthday gift might arrive in February or in August; on occasion a large gift will cover birthday, and Christmas and that is how I like it.  An hour together or a chat means more to me than any gift.

This year for the first time I actually felt able to look forward and face the day.  I might even sing the Beatles number this evening as I sip a glass of wine.

My day was spent opening cards and gifts, talking with loved ones and friends and I have postponed the partying until next week to share with Elly and George.

Two items worth sharing:

A book from a friend with a sense of humour!

AND

My name on a list! I am humbled and honoured to be included.  If you nominated me or judged me fit to be there, I offer my humble thanks.

Being 64 is not that bad after all!

Roll on next week.  The cake is planned and the candles are counted…..

This cake arrived by email before breakfast.  Thanks Steph!

Do you think I need to book the Fire Brigade?

Norah was the third of eight children and she bounced into this world on this day in 1884.

Carefree and full of dreams, Norah in 1908.

A year later she married my grandfather and together they had seven children, my mother being the third.  My grandfather died when the youngest was sixteen and granny lived on for another twenty six years.

Granny in 1953

I wonder which toy she is hiding under her cardigan?

That was granny to a tee,

She was full of fun and laughter

She passed it all on to me.

Always ready to play and tease,

She lead the band around the trees

Saucepan lids played like cymbals

Pot base beaten in time with wooden spoons

While penny whistles carried the tunes.

Not a day goes by that I do not think of her

Today I’ll raise a glass of thanks

Special wishes wing their way

On what would be her

127th Birthday

Early on Wednesday Morning I had a text message from my eldest niece.  It read:

Every morning Chris Evans plays Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah at 7a.m.  It reminds me of you.
Barbara xxx

Chris Evans hosts the weekday BBC Radio 2 Breakfast Show

I used to sing Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah to and with Barbara when she was a little girl. When we went for a walk in the park or to the village, we held hands on the homeward journey and skipped along singing this song to our hearts content.

I had forgotten.  What a memory she awoke and just at the right time.  I was humming it all morning and it was still in my head as I was in surgery having my eye sorted!

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah it was a wonderful Day!

The topic for this episode of the Loose Blogging Consortium was chosen by Conrad.

Family

Today I give thanks for my little family.  By that I mean Elly & George.  For the second time in as many years they have come to my aid when I needed help.  A year and a half ago, it was following my hip replacement surgery.  Nurse Hitler and George were wonderful in their care for me.  Nudging me on with encouragement at every stage, yet telling me to slow down when I tried to over do things.  Thankfully I never looked back.

This week Elly came to be with me before and after cataract surgery.  We are half way there, as the cloudy lens in the other eye will also need an artificial lens implant.  At least next time we will know what to expect.  I do know all about cataracts, but that is with regard to other members of my family.  It is a very different story when it is MY eye they are poking in!

So Thank you Elly, yet again, for your love and caring and to George for holding the fort and looking after Buffy in her absence.

It was only on Thursday morning after the eye patch was removed that I discovered two major problems…..

A thick layer of dust everywhere AND I suddenly noticed my face had more lines than the London Underground!

It was wonderful to look out the window and really see and enjoy the view!

I seldom ask for help.  Today I do.  It is not for me personally but for George my Son in Law.

Some of you may be aware that George has reached a major decision in his life.

NO, he is not putting me in a home for the bewildered or leaving Elly!

In September he embarked on a study programme as part of a career change   That change will see him back at College for the next few years.

George loves FOOD!

In the past year, he has had the opportunity to spend long hours around food - researching, purchasing, preparing, cooking, baking, serving and of course eating the results of all that effort.  Many times I sat at the table to be a guinea pig eat, enjoy and critique a meal he has made.

Part of the cooking is trial and error, anyone who ever cooked a meal knows that.  He tries, re-tries and adjusts the recipes until he is fully satisfied.

Always the generous soul, he shares the efforts of his labour with friends round the table at home and on his Food Blog - Not Junk Food.

George wants to be a CHEF.

He has entered for a competition sponsored by Cully & Sully, that could really give him a push in his new chosen career.  The Prize sounds wonderful and I would love to see him do well.

A 12 week cookery course in Ballymaloe worth €12,000 along with everything you need to become Ireland’s next great chef: the course, the Uniform, a set of knives, accommodation while you train followed by 2 weeks with Cully&Sully to learn about the business and have some craic!

Details of the competition can be found here

Voting will be heavy, and this is where you come in.

When you open the link above an arrow will direct you in where to vote.  All you need to do is click on the ‘like’ button.  That is it. Simple!

If you scroll down past the photo of George (at the link for the competition) you will learn more about him and see the dish he has chosen as his entry.  I have tasted it!  As my mammy would say, ‘I was BBQ sauce from ear to ear’ and all over my hands, I wanted to spend the evening curled up like a cat licking my face and hands clean!  Even thinking about it….. I want some now!

So please, take the time to vote for my favourite Son-in-Law, One day when he becomes famous, you will be able to say…..  You know the rest

Thank you.

Lán grá

Grannymar

When miss Elly went to school at first she carried a school bag.

In those early days the bag contained a pencil case, jotter, a small purse with her dinner money and spare tissues.

There was only one day in the week where she really enjoyed the school lunch and that was when they had Irish stew.  Even the teachers queued up that day for some stew.  It quickly became obvious that the cook had five recipes each repeated on the same day every week.  Elly was fortunate, she loved her food and with a good breakfast to start the day and a full dinner each evening, I looked on the school lunch as a snack.

Very soon I was asked if she could bring a packed lunch instead of the school dinner.  I asked why?

“When we have packed lunch, we go to a different room and can start eating it straight away.” she told me, adding: “Then we can go out to the playground and have more time to play football!”

“If you promise me that you will eat all the lunch, then I don’t mind.” I said.  She promised.

That is how the Lunch Box started.

I made a round of sandwiches, cut in four and covered in food-wrap.  Next was a banana, a bag of crisps, and one of the following [apple, satsuma, peach, plum, pear or bunch of grapes] leaving room for a carton of juice, a paper napkin, wet wipe and a small piece of paper.

Remembering my own school days when we brought our lunches to school, we had no school dinners, I began to feel sorry for Elly.  Packed lunches were the only area where mammy fell down.  I suppose having to make so many, made it more of a chore.  My lunch must have been a nuisance for her since it had to be made without butter and needed some other moisture added to stop the fillings falling out!

So Elly’s lunch box became larger and I had to use my imagination to add variety.  The fruit content, crisps and juice were always there, but the sandwich was where I rang the changes.

On random days I……

• filled a bap.

• packed a pitta pocket

• gave her a whole loaf or two of bread (mini loaves sliced thinly and made into sandwiches!)

• made 64 sandwiches

Now stop laughing.  I can hear you!  I know you didn’t believe me.

I tucked in the note. and the wipes and set the napkin on top before closing the lid.

Individual wet wipes, napkins and a note.

What’s that?  You want to know what the note said?

I Love You

‘The Night I Punched My Baby Son In The Face’, by Tinman was a very funny post that I read the other day and it was the inspiration for my story today.

My uncle and aunt were travelling beyond the Pale and staying in some place like Mullingar, Athlone or Longford.  I don’t actually recall the town although I was with them at the time.  Locating our chosen hotel they parked on the street opposite the building.  You could do that with no problem fifty years ago!  Anyhow, my uncle collected the carry-cot with son & heir from the back seat and proceeded to cross the road.  One of the carrying handles slipped from his grasp and the child rolled out over the blankets (which broke the fall) and across the road only stopping as it reached the pavement.

Suddenly flustered and in shock, my uncle bundled the child back in the carry-cot and covered him in the blankets,  then walked casually into the hotel.  It was only when we reached the bedroom that they checked out the child for damage!  Relieved to know that all was well, my aunt and uncle sat on the bed and started to laugh, more at their own actions than anything else.  It was pure Keystone cops!

Now come on own up,  sure there’s nobody listening  ….. 

Time once more for another episode of the Loose Blogging Consortium.   Our topic for today was chosen by Gaelikaa.

Coincidences

The coincidences I have chosen are all to do with marriage.

On this day sixty nine years ago my parents were married.  They both had the same last name, although they came for opposite sides of the country.  I arrived six years later and with time developed a mop of auburn tresses.  The gene for this autumn glory skipped a generation but came down to me from grandparents on both sides - my maternal grandfather and paternal grandmother Margaret.

John my paternal Grandfather grew up in a small village in Co Clare.  He was over six feet tall and a noted athlete in his young days, particularly in the long jump, high jump, putting the shot and the hop-step-and-jump.

Once, while jumping over a six-bar iron gate, he slipped and fell heavily on his right knee.  When it became evident that the injury was incurable he travelled across the country to Dublin’s Richmond hospital by canal barge, to have the leg amputated from the knee.  The stories of the journey, the surgery, no anaesthetic and his hair going white,  were often repeated and embroidered to an open mouthed audience of John’s grandchildren as we sat round the fireside of our youth.  On occasion some of my brothers were found tying pieces of timber to their knees in order to try walking with a wooden leg!

John was looked up to in his village and the surrounding areas as a scholar and philosopher.  People were constantly coming to him for advice and he was known far and wide as ‘The Professor’.  He was familiar with Plato & Aristotle and had a good knowledge of the classics.

When a vacancy occurred in the Kildysart Post office John applied and got the job.  He moved into the heart of the little village situated on the River Shannon in West Clare.  Besides running the Post office he opened a grocery and became the agent for all the Trans Atlantic shipping lines.  Next he bought a farm in Ballinacragga and on the 30th January 1900, he married for the second time, a farmer’s daughter, Margaret from Coolmeen.  They were blessed with 11 children.

Margaret, my paternal grandmother was a mere twenty three years of age, while her husband was many years her senior. He had married for the first time the year she was born 1877.  He died twenty two years after they married, when my father was eleven years old.  Margaret survived in widowhood for another thirty three years.

Exactly one hundred years after Margaret was born, I walked down the aisle with a man who had been a widower.  He was married for the first time the year I was born.  He also walked with a limp, the spoils of war gained in Burma during WW11.

It was many years later that I was handed a cutting from an old Co Clare weekly newspaper.  The cutting was from 1900 and it was a description of the wedding of a local Postmaster - you guessed it, the wedding of my grandparents.  The piece went on to tell us that the bride was wearing an Ecru ensemble, the very colour I wore for my big day.

Time for family, friendship and food to share.

Moving, meeting and talking,

Reminiscing and telling stories

Playing catchup and filling gaps.

It is fun!