The Tyrone Guthrie Centre

Well – this week finds me yet again in my second house/home. And the beauty about being in this enormous rambling creaky old house for brief (too brief) a period is that here I have no bills to worry about, no meals to prepare or beds to make, no cleaning to be done, no washing – endless bloody washing to be put on, put out, taken in, sorted and redistributed; then the whole bloody cycle starts again.

I love this place. I love the people who work here. I love the laughter with them - the slagging and the inevitable smutty chat. Smuttiness is good. Almost as good as flirting.  Flirting and laughing and smutty talk make the world go round.

 I love the silence and the space. I love the erudite conversation and hilarious discourse around the table at the evening meal. I love the food. Good food. Great food. Almost as good as sex food. Even almost as good as chocolate food!

This time I’m billeted in the Morning Room where I write with a morning cuppa for an hour or so. I don’t know why it’s called the Morning Room as the sun never quite reaches it at any time of day. After breakfast I take a stroll, the length of which depends on how well the work is going. So far it’s been going well. After another hour or two I take another break. Maybe wander down to the sitting room (where I sprawl as I’m writing this) and gaze at the lake which can be either still and eerily flat or glint with dancing sunshine. I am quiet. The house is quiet. The silence here is really extraordinary – it has a quality to it I have never felt (heard?) anywhere else – not even in my beloved Donegal. They say the earth hums in B flat. Well, the Big House definitely hums a different note.   

At lunchtime I might run into one or other of the guests who are here – one’s rarely bored with people staying in Annamak – all with fascinating tales to tell. Someone should write a book set in this place. A good old murder mystery maybe – g’wan all you crime-writers out there – double dare ye!  The house is an ideal place in which to set a ghost story – and the story of the ghost in one of the rooms here invariably comes up. People believe what they want to believe – its called faith.

The early afternoon I dedicate to a little thinking and reading, then try to write for another two hours. Then dinner. Oh! Annamak dinners! Depending on what stage people are at there might be long chats over glasses of wine. Or, as happened on my first night her, a few songs from musicians – what voices they had! What songs they knew – wonderful. On another occasion some years ago there was an art exhibition and story reading from other guests.

When we wind up for the evening I sometimes stroll in the grounds or if I have some detail on my mind return to the desk and write again. I give no time to mundane tasks – barring showering of course! In Annamak I simply am.

The other Evelyn Walsh will be back here next week.

Namaste. 

Tyrone Guthrie Centre blog#3

Another glorious day in Co. Monaghan. The drumlins are ablaze with furze bushes and the countryside resplendent with goat willow and rowan flower. It was a little cooler today but still sunny enough to ramble about in a tee-shirt. I ‘discovered’ the conservatory which I didn’t know existed and was delighted to see a passionflower trained up a gorgeous stone wall and some variegated perlagonium full bloom – I sat there reading and writing for a good while – did some good work on Daisy Killer plus fleshed out a short story; to be shaved back brutally at some later stage.

Lavinia continues to encourage me to be fatter – divine potato cakes for breakfast with (I think) shavings of scallions in them. N’yum. Lots of lovely cold meats, salad; including ‘real’ lettuce (as per Jemser) – home grown butterhead. Both meals shared with lovely interesting company. I know ye all think I’m mad and talk too much and stuff. But a lot of these lovely ‘artistes’ are the same. So we all speak the same language albeit in slightly different accents and disciplines. I have never met a person in this house that I was uneasy with. It is home.

After lunch the Story Queen appeared on the lawn in front of the house (singing ‘Nellie the Elephant’ off-key) as she approached and talked and read stories to Lavinia’s wee boys – two dotes. Luke was well enthralled – loved ‘Owl Babies’ and took ‘The Gruffalo' away with him. Lavinia’s heart will be scalded reading it to him for the next few years!!

Then HRH waved goodbye and wandered away singing ‘the wonderful thing about Tiggers’ and decided she would like to have her picture taken riding the lovely girly 1930’s style bike in the conservatory. Esther obliged as camerawoman and Lavinia’s boys were delighted when HRH almost crashed into a garden bed. Much hilarity ensued.

Back to work then and the treatment for the animated feature I’m collaborating on with the lovely Karen was polished up to our satisfaction – well, near enough. So off it will go with a kiss and a wish into the big bad world to see can we get a bite from some nice big fish in the world of animation. I shed emotional tears over a few scenes and laughed at others – but then I am ridiculously emotional and sentimental. Here’s hoping. We had great fun doing it anyway.

A walk around the grounds and back in for one of Lavinia’s legendary dinners where serendipity and crazy crazy co-incidences were discussed – with much laughter . Another successful night. Some have drifted off now to work, others to read or watch a movie. There appears to be some wine-supping going on in the kitchen, but I’m just too tired. Me! Too tired to drink!

There was some suggestion of Scrabble earlier – but these are seriously brainy people and I’m just not competitive enough. I’ll sit here in my lovely room, listen to John Prine, check Facebbok and Twitter, ring my babies and after a nice long bath will head to the leaba with a good book – there is a houseful to choose from.

‘Night x

Where to start.....Life is Beautiful

Right – where do I start? Last weekend was the perfick weekend – in that I had pints with Jemser of the Friday, after swimmin’ with son#2 for (I think) ten lengths.

Then of the Saturday I did Story Queen in Blanch Library to a most appreciative audience.

Then Sunday and Oor Lizzie was christened over in Sandymount – fandabbydouble dozy church, Star of the Sea. Lovely priest and lots of friendly people doing biccies and tea in the now disused old NS beside the Church - lots of lovely chats with lovely Sandymount people. Don Liam Walsheone – the godfather got the pressie so-o-o-o- right – a reconditioned MAGNIFICENT Silver Cross pram. I always said the proudest days of my life were my pram pushing days - I was a Mammy - somebody's favourite person. I miss my pram pushing days. Anyway, I am going to kidnap both pram and baby some day this summer. She will be pushed all around Swords/Malahide/Finglas anywhere I can push her - not very bus friendly the aul' Silver Cross - but deadly suspension. Plus if it's good enough for HRH in Great Britain it's good enough for oor Lizzie. Then off to Roly's Bistro for the christening lunch - feckin' gorgeous. How did the Walshies end up dining in such a gaff? Plus very very reasonable per head. Mind you I wasn't paying, lovely to be with so many family on such a lovely summer's day - and it only March.

Then on Monday I was tortured into coming to the most peaceful place on any planet – the Tyrone Guthrie in Annamakerrig, Newbliss Co Monaghan. God,t'was hard leaving work and housework for a week to come to the most beautiful place on earth (after Port, Co Donegal of course), miss the lads and Jemser and Molly but as I drove up the avenue I felt like I was coming home…I love it. And then to be spoiled rotten by the lovely Lavinia, Robbie, Esther et all - I might have to kill Lavinia though, or at least disable her cooking skills - her desserts are just too scrumptious. I think she might be a devilish imp in disguise tempting me with glorious food. Kidding - how could anyone be cross with Lavinia!

But I did a 6k walk (or ramble) into Newbliss today - the weather was quite simply too beautiful not to go out, I don't care about word count - good days don't come often in this aul' bog we live on. There are Donegal connected Yanks home and they are claiming credit for the weather. I'm glad Anne Behringer and her daughter Debbie's lads got to see Donegal in the sun - they might just keep coming with their own kids in the future. Cherish our 'diaspora' folks - it'll be what saves us financially.

Now - tomorrow Weds is the Confirmation day in son#2's school. He decided last summer he didn't want to make it so I supported him in his decision, but I think he might be feeling a little lonely tomorrow, he misses me (yes - still!) - all of his classmates are having days being spoiled by their families and neighbours (not to mention the cash!) so Jemser and I hatched a plan and they're driving up to meet me in Newbliss for lunch and we might chance a swim in the lake - if son#2 doesn't wimp out!

The work is getting done - just at slightly unusual hours - almost finished treatment for collaborative exercise with Karen Coleman - songwriter supreme, novel #2 taking shape and hatching a lovely plot for novel#3 - a ghost lover in an artist's retreat........h'mm plus polishing a couple of stories and a children's book. And then there's sleep, reading and eating.

Night night.