A Grand Day.............(rather a long post - make coffee!)

I should be boll**ed. I am boll**ed, but despite that and a few stiff brandies before I went to bed my mind wouldn't shut down so here I am typing shite to the world again. Isn't the Internet wonderful? 'Tis for the likes of me - most people I know are far too busy with their own lives to be bothered listening to me waffle on at the speed of light about things they have absolutely no interest in, and at a time when they would far rather be sleeping or reading or watching TV. They want to waffle on to me about things I have absolutely no interest in - albeit at a slower pace than my manic gabbling. So now us 'tell our life story to the bus conductor - if he'd listen' types can all sit up in the middle of the night and shoot the breeze with a screen, unburdening our souls without fear of getting three Hail Marys, an Our Father and possibly a lecture, or have to notice a glazed look coming into the eye of our reader. We bore nobody because nobody is obliged to read us and we can rest easy when we've said it all.
             I work a lot with children and you really see it in them, this need to be listened to, to be taken seriously, to be comforted and told it'll all be ok and you should never be afraid to talk to someone - someone somewhere will listen, will care, will help you. That feeling doesn't go away as we grow, we manage it better, become more self-sufficient and are able for the most part to deal with the 'slings and arrows of outrageous fortune' but we all need a listening ear at various stages in life. That's why I am so glad I write. It is the medium in which I best express myself - without worrying about the reader's/listener's reaction. I'll never know many of those who read me (yes family, I do have the odd reader outside of you!)  and those who do know me know me well enough to understand where I'm coming from as I write.
            I digress. My Grand Day. On Thursday I spotted a piece online about open auditions in Galway for bit parts and extras in an upcoming movie starring Gabriel Byrne. I brought it to the Jemser's attention and suggested he should go for it. He decided he would and then I said
            'What the hell. I'll do it too. We'll have a big day out.' So we did. It was an eerie trip down early Saturday morning as there were patches of quite heavy fog about. I hadn't driven in fog before and must admit it was a bit of a strain. Anyway it had lifted before we got to Galway and we found the Connacht Hotel easily. Busy spot. Some Welsh rugby team, whose name escapes me but who were playing Connacht in the afternoon were staying at the hotel so between them and their entourage and supporters there was plenty of activity. That and the auditions, various other meetings and functions and the usual Saturday traffic to the swimming pool and gym meant there was plenty to look at and listen to. Gosh, I love people watching. Can you do a degree in it? I'd go all the way to PhD if there was!
                 We filled in the form for HoodUp Productions and gave them to the nice young man at the desk, then took a seat on a comfy couch nearby, well - the first one was too comfy for our aul' bones , Jemser remarked that getting out of it was like getting out of a bog-hole! So we settled for the second, firmer, sedate leather couch aimed at we elder lemons. We got chatting to two young actresses just starting out on their careers who availed of our vacated bog-hole sofa, they were really interesting women. Fair play, they are involved in a theatre comapny a few of them set up - the name escapes me but will plug it when I remember it and see one of their productions. They're also writing a play themsleves , about young gay love between two women in Poland after WW2 aimed at the Dublin Gay Theatre Festival 2016 - great concept and I wish them well with it.
                 I told them we had no idea what the movie we were auditioning for was about (we didn't prpare ourselves at all!) so they filled us in. It's a horror film about a man who returns to Connemara to teach in a rural school and doesn't realies the house he has taken was the scene of several unexplained deaths. Strange things happen and it looks like his daughter may be possessed. Oooooh! On hearing this I decided to change my audition piece. I had intended to perform the famous 'To be, or not to be' soliloquoy from Hamlet but given that the movie was scary decided that the piece where Hamlet talks to his father's ghost for the first time might be better. I'd have loved to record it on the voice changer on my phone and set the change to 'ghost' but...maybe not!
                    We only had to wait about an hour before we were called.I was nervous so asked the Jemser could I go first. He never gets nervous and was happy with the speech from 'The Rainmaker' that I had suggested he read as his audition piece. So - in I went. I've never done this type of audition before so wasn't sure of the protocol so - what the hell - I just was myself. I walked in and shook hands with the four people in the room. Apparently one doesn't do that. Two professional looking sophisticated people one male, one female and two other men who (sorry lads) were more the arty farty end of things, one was a cameraman anyway and the other chap - who did most of the talking, could be a director/writer or something. Of course my form was half arsed. I had mentioned amateur productions I did twenty years ago which they read as me being involved in amateur theatre for twenty years. I corrected him to their amusement and my mortification. I forgot to mention Her Majesty, The Story Queen until the last minute, so had scribbled a bit about her on the end of the form. I neglected to put down my only involvment in a professional piece - Internal Terrains in the Project Arts Centre with the wonderful Natash Davis. The chap who was asking most of the questions thought he knew her and when I mentioned Natasha's boyfriend, a wonderful American musician who I said looked like an exclamation mark they all roared laughing. So far so good. The man said I was lovely and bubbly. No one ever called me bubbly before. I thought bubbly was small and slim and had blondy curls, or small and luscious with good teeth and shiny wavy black hair. I am neither of those people so it's nice to know I have my own large and heavy glowering bubbliness!
              I read my piece to the camera, I tried to tone my dramatic delivery down as I've only ever played Hamlet on stage, but not sure how it went. It was a pity I didn't have the piece verbatim as one loses facial expression when one has to read. But I did give the camera a glance or two. I'm not photogenic but you never know I might have a face that fits some mad aul' bat they want for their movie! I don't think they clapped when I finished - there was a silence and I'm not sure if it was a good or a bad silence. Jemser thinks he heard a clap from his perch outside the door. But what odds . Out I came and in went his lordship. From the laughter I heard through the door and the clap at the end he did really well. They told him he had a great face - which he does and his voice and delivery are great.
             I'd really, really, really love to see him getting something in this  movie. I have my writing as  a creative outlet, his singing and playing guitar is his -he claims he's not creative, he's an interpreter;  but he should have been an actor, he is really good. Life got in the way however and we both opted for the security of public service jobs to rear children and pay the mortgage. We have no real regrets about this; things were different in the Eighties, I wouldn't have thought 'being an actor' was a career option and we had neither the connections nor the education to even attempt life as professionals. Although funny enough my dearest friend from my school days told me at my book launch two years ago that I always said I wanted to be a writer or an actor - imagine I just forgot that! Jim and I kept our love of drama fed with regular visits to theatre over the years and taking part in the odd amateur production when it suited family life. The actor Don Wycherly knows Jemser well and he agrees it would be lovely to see 'The General' on screen (long story - y'had to be there!).
              I was buzzing after our auditions, we wished our new found friends the young actresses well and hit the road for the big smoke. We had a grand aul' chat on the way home. Despite the fact we're both retired we rarely spend much time together - and if we're both home he tends to be in one room inventing YouTube while I'm pottering about, knitting, or quilt-making or reading or writing. When you're stuck in a car together you tend to chat. I often forget what an easy conversationalist Jemser is - mainly because, when at home in a routine, we all tend to say the same six things over and over (I have a list of his six things!)
            We collected stepgrandaughter#1andonly en route and brought her home for an overnight. the poor little mite is teething and has a cold so is a little clingy and fretful. She only wanted her Nanny's lap and couldn't sit still even there, so I was moithered trying to find things to amuse her. I pulled out a little box of nursery rhyme board books and she was fascinated by them. I read them ad nauseum until I got bored (no pun intended!) and tried to distract her with a toy. She was having none of it. She picked up 'Humpty Dumpty' and placed it very definitely in my hands. So I read it agian. I stopped and she did it again. Time after time she picked it or 'Baa Baa Black Sheep' up and did the same thing. The books are both predominantly yellow, a colour she favours but I don't care why she picked those particular books, Cara wanted me to read to her. She is one year old. So now I will select books for her to read, I'll read and read to her until she is old enough to pick her own reading material, then old enough to able to disappear into a book for hours at a time. By giving her the gift of words I give her the world. I envy her the joy of her journey - the slowly dawning realization that she need never be alone when she has a good book.
             After she went to bed I had two nice brandies - I thought they might help me sleep. Not a chance. After my grand day I had not a hope in hell of sleeping unless I was pissed and passed out, and I rarely do pissed and passing out anymore, thank the Universe. I heard the wonderful Anthony Cronin on the radio earlier talking about his latest poetry collection. He mentioned something about energy creating energy and I can so relate to that. When I'm writing or doing anything creative I am completely absorbed in I seem to make more energy for myself , but it is an energy that must be utilised when it is created. I should really only start to write in the early morning - that way I have some chance of winding down before bedtime. But I find it difficut to write during the day, there are constant interruptions, noise and stupid distractions like suddenly seeing some ridiculoushousehold chore that becomes stuidly important. At night, in the dead quiet of the house I can write freely, hypnotising myself with the sound of the clacking keyboard.

             Now! Look at all that blether what I wrote. If I was getting paid by the word I'd be minted! Head unburdened now - am off to the leaba with my lovely new book 'The Homesman' by Glendon Swarthout - a great read, movie very true to it so far. Brilliant movie BTW, if it doesn't pick up severla Oscars I'll give up going to the flicks. 'Night, 'night. x 

Blame the ManBooker and Blue M&Ms...............

Feck son#1 and the ManBooker 2014 shortlist. I was shattered, up since 6.30am and running around after kids all day long. I picked son#1 up from work at 7pm and he presented me with a big packet of peanut M&Ms. He never gives me little pressies so I was chuffed; but I’m cursing him now in the wee small hours of the morning. I’m a glutton y'see and I scoffed all those M&Ms – even the blue ones, despite remembering that people used to say that blue Smarties made kids hyper, but sure that was Smarties and my blue colouring was in M&Ms. Let me tell yiz now, blue colouring on ANY sweets can make you hyper!

So there I was, in the leaba since 10pm but me mind whizzing around with all those jumbled up thoughts that lie in wait until my body stops moving; then demand my undivided attention. Feck this, I thought, and switched on the light again. I discarded the dectectivey yoke I had been reading for the ManBoooker shortlisted Ali Smith 's- ‘How to be both’. I’ve tried to read the shortlist every year for the last few and don’t always succeed but I’m determined this year.

Anyway whatever chance I had of sleeping before I started to read I’d none after reading the first few pages. Jesus, I thought, this poor fella’s mind is like mine right now – and I bet there weren’t any blue M&Ms back in the late 15^th century. I’ve read that the book changes further in and can be read in two different ways so looking forward to more of it. I heard somewhere ‘some books you read for the story, others for the quality of the prose and sometimes, just sometimes, you can get both’. I think Ms Smith’s book may well be one of those books. Review to follow.

But then my eyes got tired and I can’t read when my eyes are tired so up I got – routed the Jemser from his snoring in front of the telly up to the bed and I changed the channel to ‘Alibi’. That and a couple of rows of knitting will lull my brain into a false sense of security and my body will take advantage and shut the grey cells down. Ye can’t beat  late night TV and the knitting for knocking you out. ‘Course I had to tell the world all about it first so I’ll maybe give my insomnia cure a half hour extra to work to counteracter this typing on a screen. If all else fails I’ll clean the house – now THAT is guaranteed to give me at least four hours kip!

I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles…………

I am a very privileged person. This week  I spent time with two ladies, one in her eighties the other in her ninety-first year and today I spent a few hours with my delicious nineteen month old niece Busy Lizzie Long-Legs.

Why do we forget how to live between the ages of 16 and 40? We are human BEINGS not human DOINGS. In a perpetual rush to acquire stuff, accumulate wealth and be better than Joe Bloggs next door we forget the simplest things in life, the ones that give us the greatest pleasure. Time. Time spent with family and friends, people who love us. The three people I mentioned above all have time in abundance and I am privileged that they share that time with me. Chatting. Laughing.  

My older friends like to reminisce about things that happened in their youth, like showing me photographs of their loved ones and telling me about their little foibles and fancies. They like going for gentle strolls, breathing fresh air and enjoying the sights and sounds of the natural world. We talk of  everything and nothing. I always hug them when I greet them and again when I’m leaving. Chats are lovely but hugs are better.

My niece loves the fresh air too. Today we spent some time in the playground, marvelled at all the planes overhead (all going to Africa of course!). Then we walked up to the shopping centre and purchased some Very Important Bubbles – Busy Lizzie LongLegs took the money from me and paid for them herself. We walked back to a nearby park and took our shoes and socks off. We decided that the slightly long grass underfoot was really lovely. We lay down for a while and looked at the clouds. Then we had a tickle fight. Then it was Bubble Blowing Time. Oh! What fun! When you are not yet aged two there is nothing as exciting and joyous as chasing bubbles with someone who loves you in a park on a sunny day. Actually it still applies when you are fifty-two!  

When the bubbles were gone we strolled back to the house, playing Monsters Chasing Evelyn on the way. We decided it had been a really nice day and we are going to repeat it very soon. Busy Lizzie Long Legs is my best buddy for now and we parted with hugs and kisses. I am feeling very loved this week. And I am so looking forward to becoming a step granny in October when stepdaughter#2 gives birth. I’ll be the best step-granny in the twenty six counties.  

So life is good – filled with people I love and people who need me and long may it continue.  

More eulogising and wafflin'.........

And so our pet Irish summer continues. It's been a bit teenagery the last few days but when that aul cyclin' Auntie settles down we'll be back to what has become normal for us this year - SUNNY!

I left the house this morning with full intentions of going directly to the library to write at least a thousand words. But it was such a nice fresh morning I decided to go for a walk first. I walked the promenade between Malahide and Portmarnock, drinking in the views and the smiles on people's faces, the kids messing about on the sand or in rock pools and yet again thanked my lucky stars that I could retire early. I am in a privileged position I know, and thousands upon thousands of people have been horribly hit by the recession. But we all have the sand and the sea and the sun. Most of us in this county have food to eat, clean drinking water good shelter, heat, light, a place to rest and above all people who love us and we love in return. Yes, many have money worries and are so stressed they feel they will crack up. Relax. Breathe. It's only effin' money. We don't NEED most of the STUFF we spend the bloody thing on - those of us lucky enough to have spare cash after our basic living costs have been met that is. So what if your credit rating is ruined by not paying back to the banks (now buttressed behind closed branch network doors) unrealistic amounts that you were enveigled into borrowing before 2008. Live your life without credit. I bet you'll find you can do it AND sleep better at night.

JC himself (not the Jemser the biblical JC) apparently turfed the money lenders out of the temple. I, you, we, us, all of us are the temple. The banks defiled us and almost turned us back into a third world country. Get rid of them, go back to a cash basis. Lots of people never left it and y'know they were the wise ones - living frugally and only spending what was in  the purse/pocket. Use whatever talent you have (and we all have different talents, different types of intelligence) to do something you like doing and maybe earn a crust at it too or get some non monetary reward that you'd like for it. Bartering I suppose. Will I start a revolution?

A friend of mine grabbed his unemployment situation by the horns and wrote a play with some friends , they acted, directed and formed a production comapny to hustle the finances - they pulled together doing something they loved. I don't know if they broke even on it but the point is they DID it, thus putting something new on a CV and, learning the business on the way.

'Nuff about the state of the nation - it'll ease up and the sky hasn't fallen in yet. Believe in that and stop your worrying. After all my ruminations my lovely walk I popped into the Vde P shop in Malahide and retail therapied myself for half an hour. Retail therapy is so guilt free in any of the charity shops! And so to Rush library - it's as quiet as a church here (it is an old church!) and the sun is streaming through the stained glass windows, the ambience so peaceful and suitable for reading or writing. I'll sit and write quite happily here for another few hours. ONE THOUSAND WORDS....no messin'!

Chat again soon...and remember - chattin' and flirtin' make the world go round so keep this great world spinnin'!

Son#2 and an electronic snakebite........

We had a brilliant day today. Jemser, myself and son#2 set off for Gowran in Co Kilkenny to visit the reptile village there  http://reptilevillage.net/. My men love snakes and lizards and scary things, I'm not as enamored but I must admit when the lovely keeper put a magnificent albino python around my neck I was impressed. I couldn't get over how soft and sensuous the skin was - and the weight of it!

Son #2 was in his element going from tank to tank and telling us all sorts of details about the creatures that he had picked up on the net or from the holy grail that is QI. He got to touch and hold snakes, lizards, tortoises and other yokes with four legs and scaly skin! There are even a few crocodiles - not for touching, natch!

 An enormous Barn Owl (my personal favourite, ye all know my obsession with wise old Owls) surveys all from a viewing gallery where there there is an area where smaller children can colour in pictures of the animals they have seen. There is an small equipped indoor play area for smaller children and an indoor picnic area. Tea, coffee and snacks from machines are available. The staff are incredible, kind and patient with both hysterical adults and curious kids; they are very well informed on what they do.

So we saw all there was to see and son#2 took loads and loads of photos. As we had our picnic he was checking them out deciding which ones he could post to Facebook when he got home. We had a row (mock) when he deleted one I took (apparently it wasn't good enough). It was nice y'know. We rarely do things as a family now - I would have loved to  have visited a place like the Reptile village during the holidays when both lads were small. It's a little over an hour from Dublin and it's a very reasonably priced day out. It's suitable for all ages. Great to see someone turning a hobby as a kid into a passion into a business. This place deserves all our support and encouragement, it is tiny businesses like it that bring life and commerce back into our towns and villages.

Anyway we got home and I asked son#2 to email me the photos.
     'Sure' sez he, whipping out the iPod, thumbs moving in a blur as he slid, clicked, double clicked across the screen. Then his face fell - I mean it actually FELL and his eyes filled with tears of rage and disappointment.
     'I don't believe it, I can't have....I effin' did!' . The poor bugger didn't R.T.F.M and accidentally deleted all his photos. He was devastated. That's what happens when a trigger happy kid tries to capture an electronic snake!

Sssh! Don't tell him, I'll bring him back to the village before the summer is out. Yeah, I know...I know...I'm a sap........  

On sunshine...actually no - it should be - 'On SunShine'...no, on SUN SHINE...............

What a week! The god-forsaken bog I live on has had four days of unbroken sunshine, blue skies and warmth. It's unprecedented - at least in short-term memory it's unprecedented; and we love it - we Irish becomes even more Irish when the sun shines - in Ireland only of course. I feel like I'm on holidays with all my neighbours. We're all rambling around in shorts and strappy tops and sandals - and that's only the men! Even the older lady who normally walks up the road wrapped up like Michelin Man has been spotted sitting outside her front door stripped down to cardigan, blouse and skirt and ...drumroll...NO TIGHTS!  

It started on bank holiday Monday - it was a gorgeous day after a disappointing Saturday and Sunday which were dry but dull and still a little chilly. So when I woke to the sun I plonked myself out the back garden with books and newpapers and read and dozed my way through the day. Well, that's what bank holidays are for. Then came Tuesday and whaddya know - the sun was still shining. Y'can't do any housework on a sunny day (Housewives Commandments No 5) so out to the garden again with me - this time I did actually take a break from sunbathing to walk the dog and cook a dinner (not at same time natch!). Wednesday - S.L.O.D.G -still sunny! I started to feel guilty over spending another day in the garden so bought a few plants and did a little weeding to ease my Irish Catholic guilty conscience over actually enjoying myself doing Sweet Fanny Adams.

Today is Thursday and I had an appointment to meet an illustrator in Malahide for a series of books I have planned for HRH The Story Queen. I couldn't believe it - the sun was still shining; I've decided it's shining because I decided not to go to the Continent on hols this year . God must've looked down and said 'That poor woman - I better send a few rays her way.'

I walked to Malahide; it was a beautiful morning to walk along the Estuary - drinking in the beauty of Nature on my doorstep. I got on like a house on fire with the illustrator - she's brilliant and on my wave-length so I think we may be poised for WORLD DOMINATION. Or at least 26 county saturation! I walked back to Swords after the meeting marveling to myself that this is now what I call work. Work! Hah!

Tomorrow I'm into Fighting Words in the a.m. and have a Story Queen date with a five year old in the p.m. Oh and yeah - the sun is supposed to shine all weekend as well........I may never leave Ireland again.

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.