Oh, my Christmas was complete today. Took two under tens to see 'The Wizard Of Oz' in the National Concert Hall. Superb. My special Christmas treat, in some form, every year. Last year it was the movie shown on a big screen in the Helix theatre accompanied by the RTE Concert Orchestra. But you can't beat a live show.
On my 'to-do' list before I die is to play 'The Cowardly Lion' in some version of the Wiz. Only problem is I can't sing - bet I could do a magnificent talking version of 'If I were King of the Forest....'though. So along with directing 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' and playing Lady Macbeth, the Cowardly Lion is up there in the top ten.
We're off the 'A Christmas Carol' at the Gate Theatre tomorrow night ~(aren't we a fierce cultured fambly? Then 'Funderland'in the RDS on Sunday (Dublin's homage to DisneyWorld!)...I think Christmas hols cost us more than the summer hols every year.
Actually normally nothing would possess me to go up in one of them whirly very fast things that people seem to think are fun. But a chapter of novel one was set in Funderland so I thought I better do some research. I took along a few kids last year (mainly to hold my hand on the whirly things ) and now they seem to think it is a Christmas tradition!
Plus we have a new family member arriving at the weekend - Dora our new dog is to be delivered by Dogs Trust so we're all looking forward to that.
What happened to me? Funderland, dogs...I'll be going down the big slides at the National Aquatic Centre next!
Showing posts with label christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christmas. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Snow in Heaven
Just home from a wildly beautiful, scarily icy and unbelievably white Donegal. It was more majestic than normal. I have yet to convince the cynical -
(ie those with no souls)
- males in my family, but I swear from the crossroads at the Killybegs/Carrick/Kilcar road the visible crests of Sliabh Liag looked like someone, (someone ENORMOUS) sleeping.
Eventually one male person grudgingly admitted - well I can maybe see a thigh -
the youngest male (anxious not to be seen to be a fool) chirped up that perhaps he he could see a nose and chin (I must qualify that he saw Santa's Sleigh above Venus on Dec 24th)
Someone else ( I think he has a female soul) could see the curve - that sleeping curve of body as thighs are drawn in lazily delicious abandon towards upper body; there isn't really any similar line in 'nature' and certainly not in architecture or even art to equal that line in the eye of the loving beholder.
But a snowy view of Sliabh Liag from that particular spot comes close, very very close.
Anyway spent a great while in a tiny cottage on Kilcar Main street - check it out rent.ie, well worth a visit, very central for buses etc. Saw all the other half's 'fambly' including my darling Teresa - who continues to leave us, reluctantly -
although-
there is is still the odd guffaw of enjoyment and teasing. Mostly though she is sad, as each one of her twelve and their addendums/appendices comes in she starts to weep, for she knows that they must go again, and each going is for her, as her memory abandons her more and more perhaps her last remembering.
Life sucks...
And then there is Alzheimers, I cannot imagine what cruelty created this.
(ie those with no souls)
- males in my family, but I swear from the crossroads at the Killybegs/Carrick/Kilcar road the visible crests of Sliabh Liag looked like someone, (someone ENORMOUS) sleeping.
Eventually one male person grudgingly admitted - well I can maybe see a thigh -
the youngest male (anxious not to be seen to be a fool) chirped up that perhaps he he could see a nose and chin (I must qualify that he saw Santa's Sleigh above Venus on Dec 24th)
Someone else ( I think he has a female soul) could see the curve - that sleeping curve of body as thighs are drawn in lazily delicious abandon towards upper body; there isn't really any similar line in 'nature' and certainly not in architecture or even art to equal that line in the eye of the loving beholder.
But a snowy view of Sliabh Liag from that particular spot comes close, very very close.
Anyway spent a great while in a tiny cottage on Kilcar Main street - check it out rent.ie, well worth a visit, very central for buses etc. Saw all the other half's 'fambly' including my darling Teresa - who continues to leave us, reluctantly -
although-
there is is still the odd guffaw of enjoyment and teasing. Mostly though she is sad, as each one of her twelve and their addendums/appendices comes in she starts to weep, for she knows that they must go again, and each going is for her, as her memory abandons her more and more perhaps her last remembering.
Life sucks...
And then there is Alzheimers, I cannot imagine what cruelty created this.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Two Sleeps To Christmas.....
This is the poem I liked best of those I wrote for 'de fambly'. It's about my sister Judy - and a lot more of course, there are only eleven months between us, I'm the older Irish twin. Picture it centred on the page (how do I do this on a blog???) and on marbled paper in a well mounted frame - I think it really worked. If I get lazy over the hols I'll post the others (instead of my normal dynamic intelligent posts!).They are very personal memories and may not work for the outsider looking in - all the recipients liked them anyway and we all shed a tear for the little innocents we once were
Childhood Memories#2
Winter 1965
Judy
You were the most beautiful creature -
Perfect.
Flawless skin,
huge trusting eyes
watching from
the bolster on the double bed,
Its creaky iron frame
bathed in the light of
the glowing Sacred Heart
that pinked
candy striped brushed cotton sheets,
blankets,
a maroon eiderdown
topped by a heavy Gardá great coat;
whose buttons left an imprint on your face
Insignia of peace on chubby cheek.
You whispered -
‘Let’s play the drawing-on-the back game,
Me first.’
I loosened your pyjama top
and sketched a scene,
plump childish fingers intent on detail
hoping you wouldn’t guess it right
and I could crow
‘No!’
‘Now me’, I whispered.
But you were sleeping.
I spooned in behind you
And lying still inhaled
Pears soap and Cusson’s talc
And you.
Now, if I close my eyes and deeply breathe
I can almost feel that moment
That safety in our kingdom
Our hot water bottle warmed
double bed
Childhood Memories#2
Winter 1965
Judy
You were the most beautiful creature -
Perfect.
Flawless skin,
huge trusting eyes
watching from
the bolster on the double bed,
Its creaky iron frame
bathed in the light of
the glowing Sacred Heart
that pinked
candy striped brushed cotton sheets,
blankets,
a maroon eiderdown
topped by a heavy Gardá great coat;
whose buttons left an imprint on your face
Insignia of peace on chubby cheek.
You whispered -
‘Let’s play the drawing-on-the back game,
Me first.’
I loosened your pyjama top
and sketched a scene,
plump childish fingers intent on detail
hoping you wouldn’t guess it right
and I could crow
‘No!’
‘Now me’, I whispered.
But you were sleeping.
I spooned in behind you
And lying still inhaled
Pears soap and Cusson’s talc
And you.
Now, if I close my eyes and deeply breathe
I can almost feel that moment
That safety in our kingdom
Our hot water bottle warmed
double bed
Monday, December 21, 2009
Favourite Christmas Presents - Given and Received
I remember a cut-out paper doll with tabbed outfits that you cut out and stuck to cardboard (ala the back of the 'Bunty')
I remember a 'Crolly Doll' - I loved her 'cause she had the same hairstyle as my Mam
I remember a second-hand blue bike my first non-Santa year
I remember buying a packet of sewing needles in a little packet shaped like a basket of flowers for my Mother, I paid for it out of Grandma's pocket money so I was only about 6 or 7. Once a month she gave us 6d to spend and we had to save 3d of it. I was so proud of myself, I told everyone about the great present I had bought Mam - OUT OF MY OWN MONEY'.
I remember a beautiful reading lamp that I used for twenty five years, it was hauled around from flat to flat, to home, to rented houses and finally to first owned place.
I remember 'Collected Novels Of Thomas Hardy' from a dear, dear friend - I had got her exactly the same thing! I have it still , thirty years later.
I remember the first and only time my current husband ever surprised me - with a leather jacket - I didn't think he had it in him!
I remember my first son's reaction at 3 and a half on seeing the tractor and trailer he'd asked Santa for, there were a few little bits and bobs wrapped and laid in the trailer. On being asked was he going to open them he said,
'They're not for me Mammy, I only wanted a tractor!' When he was persuaded to open the gifts, one of them was a plastic fiddle.
'Granny, If I play will you dance?'
'I will, a stor' Teresa danced and lilted while Seamai airfiddled all around the kitchen in Drimreagh - I bawled!
Most of all it's faces I remember.
Faces of siblings, faces of loved ones, faces of my children.
Smiling, eyes lighting up with surprise and delight, hearts over flowing.
So happy it hurts.
I remember a 'Crolly Doll' - I loved her 'cause she had the same hairstyle as my Mam
I remember a second-hand blue bike my first non-Santa year
I remember buying a packet of sewing needles in a little packet shaped like a basket of flowers for my Mother, I paid for it out of Grandma's pocket money so I was only about 6 or 7. Once a month she gave us 6d to spend and we had to save 3d of it. I was so proud of myself, I told everyone about the great present I had bought Mam - OUT OF MY OWN MONEY'.
I remember a beautiful reading lamp that I used for twenty five years, it was hauled around from flat to flat, to home, to rented houses and finally to first owned place.
I remember 'Collected Novels Of Thomas Hardy' from a dear, dear friend - I had got her exactly the same thing! I have it still , thirty years later.
I remember the first and only time my current husband ever surprised me - with a leather jacket - I didn't think he had it in him!
I remember my first son's reaction at 3 and a half on seeing the tractor and trailer he'd asked Santa for, there were a few little bits and bobs wrapped and laid in the trailer. On being asked was he going to open them he said,
'They're not for me Mammy, I only wanted a tractor!' When he was persuaded to open the gifts, one of them was a plastic fiddle.
'Granny, If I play will you dance?'
'I will, a stor' Teresa danced and lilted while Seamai airfiddled all around the kitchen in Drimreagh - I bawled!
Most of all it's faces I remember.
Faces of siblings, faces of loved ones, faces of my children.
Smiling, eyes lighting up with surprise and delight, hearts over flowing.
So happy it hurts.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Christmas carols and all that schmaltz
Aaaaah!I went to the younger son's Christmas Carol concert today - they were brilliant, well, nearly all of them - one class did absolutely murder Oiche Chuin - but they thought they were deadly so that was what mattered. I invariably well up at these events, despite telling myself year after year that it's all a load of marketing sh***, a symbol of cynical marketing and the global giants (like the Catholic Church) making lolly etc.
But I can't help it, I'm female, middle-aged, human. I love the sound of children's voices. One of the greatest pleasures in my life since I went part-time in the paid job is that as I turn the key into my house at 1pm every day I can hear the clamour of 900 kids from the various yards in the local primary school. As an adult and parent there is nothing as satisfying, as joyous. And then I remembered how frightening that noise was when I was one of the 900, actually in Mother of Divine Grace in Ballygall there were almost 1,500 NS girls in classes of 40-50 in the 60's-70's - I was more scared of the other little rips than the teachers!
My baby played Santa in his class's performance of 'Jolly Holly' - they were fantastic and then they followed up with a lovely rendition of 'The Holly and The Ivy'. He went a bit astray as he tried to put on his red Santa jacket and couldn't find the left sleeve easily and I was in the audience dying for him - but it didn't phase him - he kept his cool, said his lines and sorted out Santa's jacket when he could. In the vernacular of the day - OMG! - I'm so proud of him, and - if truth be told of - myself and the significant other. This was a kid who was terrified of his own shadow, everything bothered him - dogs, cats, insects, birds, other people. He's this really great bright kid ,a reader, a sportsman, a musician and sensitive and all that , but me and Jemser helped him be this sociable likeable little character. One of the neighbours - a man in his seventies said,
'You could go for a pint with that fella, he has something to say about everything and he's great company.'
So what's the best part of Christmas folks? The same thing that's the best part of every day - and the hardest - family. Shi***. It still sounds Peggy Mithchell or Pauline Fowler - them women have done more to bring the concept of family into disrepute than the slogan 'the family that prays together stays together'. Hug your babies folks - Carpe Diem.
But I can't help it, I'm female, middle-aged, human. I love the sound of children's voices. One of the greatest pleasures in my life since I went part-time in the paid job is that as I turn the key into my house at 1pm every day I can hear the clamour of 900 kids from the various yards in the local primary school. As an adult and parent there is nothing as satisfying, as joyous. And then I remembered how frightening that noise was when I was one of the 900, actually in Mother of Divine Grace in Ballygall there were almost 1,500 NS girls in classes of 40-50 in the 60's-70's - I was more scared of the other little rips than the teachers!
My baby played Santa in his class's performance of 'Jolly Holly' - they were fantastic and then they followed up with a lovely rendition of 'The Holly and The Ivy'. He went a bit astray as he tried to put on his red Santa jacket and couldn't find the left sleeve easily and I was in the audience dying for him - but it didn't phase him - he kept his cool, said his lines and sorted out Santa's jacket when he could. In the vernacular of the day - OMG! - I'm so proud of him, and - if truth be told of - myself and the significant other. This was a kid who was terrified of his own shadow, everything bothered him - dogs, cats, insects, birds, other people. He's this really great bright kid ,a reader, a sportsman, a musician and sensitive and all that , but me and Jemser helped him be this sociable likeable little character. One of the neighbours - a man in his seventies said,
'You could go for a pint with that fella, he has something to say about everything and he's great company.'
So what's the best part of Christmas folks? The same thing that's the best part of every day - and the hardest - family. Shi***. It still sounds Peggy Mithchell or Pauline Fowler - them women have done more to bring the concept of family into disrepute than the slogan 'the family that prays together stays together'. Hug your babies folks - Carpe Diem.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
We're Off To See The Wizard
We decided last night to go to Sydney in 2010 for our holiday. It will be the holiday of a lifetime because I can't see us ever having enough cash saved or time together to do it again. The fifteen year old is chomping at the bit but a chance to see his beloved half sister, who is out in Sydney working in a lab as a molecular parasitologist and trying to find a cure for malaria ( I'm arranging a sainthood for her), is just too much for him and he has condescended to join us. Wouldn't it be great if the other step-daughter could go at the same time...hmmm... all of us in Sydney at the same time, we'd have to do a Christmas dinner in July to celebrate that fact.
It's funny, at times when your kids are young and absolutely doing your head in, on a miserably wet summer's Sunday, and you think you are going to end up doing time because you have thought-murdered them; you never ever, see this day coming - where some have successfully flown the nest and others are intent on jumping out of it before they can fly and stumble back in a slightly bruised daze,(yes, I know it's called a hangover) and the last one is trying desperately hard to climb back inside you, but wants what he sees all his siblings have at the same time. So I'm starting a campaign. Let all of Jemser's kids and their significant others, himself and meself be together in Sydney for Christmas in whatever month we land there, 'cause that's what Christmas is folks - family ( that's a bit too Peggy Mitchell isn't it?)
It's funny, at times when your kids are young and absolutely doing your head in, on a miserably wet summer's Sunday, and you think you are going to end up doing time because you have thought-murdered them; you never ever, see this day coming - where some have successfully flown the nest and others are intent on jumping out of it before they can fly and stumble back in a slightly bruised daze,(yes, I know it's called a hangover) and the last one is trying desperately hard to climb back inside you, but wants what he sees all his siblings have at the same time. So I'm starting a campaign. Let all of Jemser's kids and their significant others, himself and meself be together in Sydney for Christmas in whatever month we land there, 'cause that's what Christmas is folks - family ( that's a bit too Peggy Mitchell isn't it?)
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Christmas Poems
I have said it before and I'll say it again - I'm not poet. I'd love to be. Poets definitely do it better. Put all the best words in the best order and make them sing. Make you wonder at the world in a different way. Bring a tear of joy or empathy to your eye.
Why then am I attempting to write in a way not natural to me - poems for my siblings this Christmas? Because I want to, it doesn't really matter if they're good, bad -I wouldn't like them to be indifferent though. Anyway all seven of these poems (one for Dad too) are going to be of particular childhood memories, the child I grew up with that is etched on my heart.
I hope they like them.
If they let me - after Christmas I will post them all together here. Then you can all share in the happier moments of the lives of those of us at 45.
Now
Here's a poem for today, particularly resonant for those of you on the Dart line. It didn't ever win anything, but I like it. I like it very much
The 8.15 to Tara
His eyes daily dance
through the map
to the girl
with the high pony-tail
that swishes and flicks
to the
tch-chung, tch-chung tch-chung
And it tickles the nape of her neck
in that place
where he longs
just to once
sketch a kiss
‘Now then Miss’
he might murmur
when their eyes would engage
and they’d dance to the
tch-chung, tch-chung tch-chung
A slow Waltz
Or perhaps
a burning Tango
All around the second carriage
of the eight fifteen to Tara
Evelyn Walsh, August 09
Why then am I attempting to write in a way not natural to me - poems for my siblings this Christmas? Because I want to, it doesn't really matter if they're good, bad -I wouldn't like them to be indifferent though. Anyway all seven of these poems (one for Dad too) are going to be of particular childhood memories, the child I grew up with that is etched on my heart.
I hope they like them.
If they let me - after Christmas I will post them all together here. Then you can all share in the happier moments of the lives of those of us at 45.
Now
Here's a poem for today, particularly resonant for those of you on the Dart line. It didn't ever win anything, but I like it. I like it very much
The 8.15 to Tara
His eyes daily dance
through the map
to the girl
with the high pony-tail
that swishes and flicks
to the
tch-chung, tch-chung tch-chung
And it tickles the nape of her neck
in that place
where he longs
just to once
sketch a kiss
‘Now then Miss’
he might murmur
when their eyes would engage
and they’d dance to the
tch-chung, tch-chung tch-chung
A slow Waltz
Or perhaps
a burning Tango
All around the second carriage
of the eight fifteen to Tara
Evelyn Walsh, August 09
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)