Tara - Seat of The High Kings

In the deep gentle silence of Co. Meath lies Tara; a royal place, a sacred place, a special place for us Celts since roughly 4,000 years BC.

To my eternal shame I did not visit Tara until today, despite my stepdaughters and their children having such a huge reverence and regard for the place that some of their mother’s ashes were scattered from The King’s Seat (don’t tell the OPW!). One of those grandchildren is named Cormac, in honour of Cormac Mac Airt – High King of the legends. Cormac's Nana Muireann battled valiantly - as valiantly as Queen Mebd would have battled, to prevent a motorway destroying the landscape around this sacred ground. My maternal family lore has it that we are descendants of Gormflaith who was married briefly to Brian Boru (941 -1014), known as Emperor of The Gaels and one of the more recent High Kings. Gormflaith has gone down in history as being 'utterly wicked.' Maybe that's why we never talked about her!

So, armed with these connections to Tara, it being a beautiful morning, and daylight saving gifting us a fictitious extra hour I felt it a good day to visit; particularly as we approach Samhain – the Gaelic festival that celebrates the end of harvest and the move into the darker half of the year. Samhain is a time for ghouls and ghosts, witches and wonders, it is a time when it was believed Aos Si (spirits or fairies) could move with greater ease from their world into ours (if you are a gaeilgeoir please excuse my lack of fadas). I met none of these beings on my gentle amble around the site, given Gormflaith's reputation I'd rather not meet her spirit!

 I did meet some imps from England, Dublin and Northern Ireland though - who gloried in running up and down the slopes of Tara.One little chap, Henry - aged about three, ambled about the top of The King's Seat and enjoyed himself in the muddiest puddle I’ve ever seen. His older siblings and cousins looked on in envy; Henry being the only one sensible enough to be shod in wellies. I’m sure the dead buried here were delighted; children’s laughter should ring out everywhere to remind us we are yet quick and that we should live, live, live while we can.

I stayed for about an hour, walking, contemplating the beauty and thinking of my own dead. The men and women buried in Tara are in my DNA – maybe in only the tiniest molecule, but still part of me. It is said we die twice – first when the physical body stops working and secondly the last time someone says our name. To that I’d pose a third possibility – perhaps we are actually immortal, as some tiny bit of us goes forward – in our brothers and sisters, cousins, sons and daughters, in family.

Enough philosophizing and talking pure shite!

Seriously, if you have a chance over the coming week take your children and loved ones to Tara, let them run and play, kick a ball or have a few pucks with hurl and sliotair. The interpretive centre is closed but there is a lovely coffee shop beside the site.

You’ll come away feeling thoughtful and rejuvenated.

 Promise.

 https://hilloftara.com/

Diary of Cara Cunnyham aged 3.916667 years (roughly)...............

Nanny collected me today. It was exciting.  We had an ENORMOUS hug. Nanny says I am the best hugger in the world. Mamai says that too, so it must be true.

On the way to Swords we sang songs. I sang ‘Do you want to build a snowman’ and Nanny sang ‘I know an old lady who swallowed a fly.’ Nanny says her singing has improved since I came into the world. Mamai, Liam and Seamai are brilliant singers, so is Grandad. So is everyone in the Cunnyham family. We are a really lucky family. When I’m a bit bigger I am going to sing songs at Cunnyham parties. One on my own and one with Mamai. Nanny says everyone will clap and say ‘wonderful’ and I will smile because I made people happy with my singing.

Aunty Dearbhaile is bringing out a CD soon, and she's not a Cunnyham! Lots of musicians and singers are helping her. Mamai and Eithne are on the CD too. I love Aunty Dearbhaile. She has a voice like an angel, or maybe a being who lives in the clouds or the mist or in the wind.. We picked Liam up in Swords and went to Skerries to feed the ducks and swans. Liam and me sang ‘Acuna Matata’ and Nanny joined in the applebrite. Nanny told me it’s not called an applebrite it’s called a chorus. She can’t figure out why I thought it was called an applebrite. It’s the wrong word but I think it’s a nice word. I like the feeling of it in my mouth.

We went to the pond at Skerries Mills. 

When all the bread for the birds was gone we went to the playground. Nanny LOVES Skerries playground. When we arrived in the carpark there was half a rainbow diving into the sea.

 Liam pushed me on the swing then Nanny and me swung in the space ship swing. We had great fun. Liam thought we were mad. We sang 'Let it Go' as we swang.

We played shop but stopped when Liam found out I only had PRETEND custard creams in my shop. He said he was going to sue me for false advertising. Nanny says most advertising is false anyway. Nanny and Liam’s minds work kind of different to a lot of people’s minds. They keep getting distracted and ramble off on tangents and don’t CONCENTRATE on one thing at a time. She is worse than he is.

We brought Liam back to Swords and I fell asleep in the middle of a song. When I woke up Liam was gone in and the boys from down the road were chatting to Nanny. One of them asked Nanny was she very old and Nanny said yes she was and walked up and down the road like a crumpled up old person and talked in a funny squeaky voice saying she knew she looked old but she was really six inside and she was never EVER EVER going to grow up because a lot of grown-ups are BORING. We laughed and laughed.

Nanny and I went to the pool. We stayed until I was wrinkly. Nanny was wrinkly too but some of her wrinkles are oldy wrinkles and some are water wrinkles. Nanny pretended to be a dolphin and I was a mermaid holding onto her as we went around in the Lazy River. When my new cousin comes home from America we will all go swimming. And Mamai says I will be able to go on a plane with her to visit them very very soon.    

When we arrived back in Swords we had pizza and sat and cuddled with Grandad on the couch. Nanny brought me to bed and Liam came in and sang us two songs.  I fell asleep halfway through  the applebrite of ‘Starry Starry Night’………….. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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 [EW1]

#RiotDublin

Where to begin?

I've just arrived home from the finest night of entertainment on an Irish stage since I saw the glorious heyday of Passion Machine plays in the mid Eighties. I attended Riot in Vicar Steet this evening - the perfect venue for this raucous riveting display of Irish talent. Part spoken word, part dance, part aerial acrobatics, part searing commentary on the politics and social status of this little island, part song - a thousand belly laughs, a few tears. Just FN BRILLIANT! Reminiscent of the cabaret scene in Berlin in the 1930s I think.

This show should be mandatory for the senior cycle of every school in this country. It shows what we are capable of, it highlights Irish creativity, it shows the love we have for each other, it teaches respect for every individual drawing a breath at this very moment. I was probably one of the older members of the audience but by god I stamped and clapped and danced and sang with all dem young wans. I gave it welly!

The show was co-written by Emmet Kirwan and Panti Bliss - two flippin' geniuses, with additional text and voiceover by our own darling curmudgeon Michael Harding. So you know the writing was top class. Composer and Musical Director was Alma Kelliher and Up and Over It with the Lords of Strut and Ronan Brady took care of most of the dance, acrobatics and clowning. The singing was superb particularly Adam Matthews and Nicola Kavanagh and I have a feeling that Megan Riordan - a force of nature - was the glue that held the whole thing together.

The set, costumes, light and sound design were top notch. I genuinely could not find one fault with the event. I hope to Christ it comes back again or tours the country or hits the West End - it is certainly good enough to do so.


High Fives and Big Hugs to everyone involved. I love yiz!!  

A Bad Dose of Trumpitis...........

I like Facebook. It’s the garden wall, the pub counter, the church gates, a place for a bit of a flirt and a bit of aul’ gossip. I can keep an eye on the goings on of some of my siblings, my nieces and nephews, have a laugh with friends – share their good news with a ‘like’ and commiserate with them if they're down or have bad news. It’s obviously no substitute for sitting in someone’s company for a couple of hours nattering, for listening to stories and reading body language, but in today’s manic high speed world Facebook mimics community and suffices until we can actually do the down time with loved ones bit.

But I’m suspending my account once this blog is posted for a few months - because Facebook was making me afraid or paranoid or something. President Donald Trump of the USA is all over it and it became (for me) increasingly difficult to read or watch anything about him. The man seems to put his foot in it every time he opens his mouth. The months and months of listening, watching and reading the vitriolic bile that spewed from his mouth during the election campaign, of watching him strut around - his face a mask of false humility and concern (he is the hammiest actor I’ve ever seen) made me increasingly concerned for the safety of the ‘free’ world.

I had reassured myself they wouldn’t elect him, I know lots of Americans – they’re all lovely people, bright, hardworking people, they want the same things in life most of us do. A secure roof over their heads, shelter from the cold or oppressive heat. They want to eat well and educate their children. They want access to good healthcare for their families. Surely these people – so like me, wouldn’t elect an orange baboon to such high office? Apart from anything else it would be disrespectful of such office. But they did. Or rather their system did. 

So. Into the White House goes President Trump and off Facebook comes little ole me. I've become obsessed with the man. Fretful, constantly clicking on links to have more screaming headlines surrounded by advertisements flash before my eyes. I was so worried about what he might do that I was making myself ill; so I’ve called a halt to my own unbridled gallop. Talk about worrying over things over which one has no control! I’m ridiculous, and I admit it. The best cure for my severe dose of Trumpitis is six months rest from Facebook; I’m allowing myself a daily hour’s glance at The Guardian, The New York Times and The Irish Times plus whatever radio news I catch during the day to keep me informed on major developments and I’m quite sure the world will continue to spin, the seasons to change and the tide to come in and go out while I take me eye off the ball! It’s gas. I’m constantly telling other to BREATHE and stop worrying, to look after themselves, avoid toxicity in all forms – yet a lot of the time I cannot take my own sound advice.

But I’m really really going to try………..

PS If HeWhoShallNotBeNamed is annoying you maybe start a petition to have him sit on the naughty step until he tempers his language?? Just a suggestion…………

Remembered, not Forgotten.............

In this, the centenary year of The Battle of the Somme in Northern France, I travelled with extended family to lay a plaque at the Thiepval Memorial in honour of our great-uncle Peter Whelan, who died in September 1916 halfway through that bloodiest of battles.

Billions of words have been written about The Somme and its name has become synonymous with pain and suffering. I’ve read a few thousand of those words, I’ve seen the pictures, watched the documentaries – but nothing prepared me for the emotion I felt as I walked the ground where my twenty two year old ancestor died an awful, unnecessary death.

The area where The Battle took place over 141 days is incredibly flat, of course it was pummeled into submission. Trees have been re-introduced since the Second World War and the land looks good, there are large fields of corn, kale and cabbage; other fields are fallow and lie neatly tilled. The earth is reddish brown and crumbly – good soil; perhaps fertilised by the blood and bones of the over one million men who gave their lives for us – or so they believed. Were they misled? Who can say they were wrong? The reasons for the first World War are complex, I have difficulty remembering them all, and I wonder how many of those under-educated boys could comprehend how they ended up in churned up fields in France, up to their oxters in mud, driven mad by lice and rats; all five senses being constantly battered by the horrific carnage all round them.

The ceremony at Thiepval was extraordinarily moving. I tried to do my best in reading aloud a Tom Kettle poem but my emotions nearly got the better of me. My cousins had a similar problem when they read out a short piece about Peter Whelan in both English and Irish and to wrap up another cousin read a Francis Ledwidge poem.  After a two minutes silence we all trooped up the steps of the monument to lay a ceramic plaque (made by an incredibly talented cousin) inscribed  as follows

                                                              

After trying and failing to find someplace in very rural France to purchase a cup of coffee we decided instead to visit as many of the sites as we could in our limited time. We visited the South African Memorial in Delville Wood where over ten thousand men died. Only one tree remained intact at the end of the battle. The area has been re wooded and oak, sycamore, ash and birch provide a lofty peaceful canopy over the shallow trenches where men once crawled to get back to bigger trenches named after streets at home. I thought Delville Wood a very peaceful place - until an Englishman (old soldier by his garb) found a WWI hand grenade at the side of the road. He explained that there are still grenades, shrapnel and bits of human bone working their way up through the soil. As the farmer tills his field he places anything he finds on the side of the road and the police pick them up.

Last stop before gin o'clock was to see the Lochnagar Crater, the largest man-made mine crater in WWI on the Western Front. It looks like a small meteorite fell. Bits of bones that still surface from time to time are sent for DNA testing in an effort to identify what nationality the owner of said bone might have been. Then it is buried with its countrymen.



We drove to our hotel in Amiens a tad subdued. We were emotionally drained and, given that the mean age of the party was about 55, various body parts were complaining (statistician cousin can correct me on this!). However - fortified by alcohol and showers we ventured out into the mildness of a French September evening to eat good food, drink GREAT wine, laugh, talk and reminisce. It was lovely. I felt like a child on Carne Beach in Wexford again, where the families would try to get together every August. Salad Days.

Sunday was given over to sight seeing around Amiens. The Gothic Cathedral is well worth a visit. Amiens suffered badly during both World Wars, being occupied several times by both sides but it has been rebuilt into a pleasant wide boulevarded city; it has a very relaxed atmosphere and we had a very pleasant day there, we all particularly enjoyed a boat ride on a man made canal in the city's central park. We ate outdoors in a little restaurant and it was delicious, particularly the cafe gourmand - although I was reliably informed the the creme brulee was to die for.

Then we flew home. I haven't seen much of my cousins in the last thirty years, but I think we felt comfortable around each other. I suppose the things that made you happy as a child can do so again as an adult; we always had great fun when we were together as kids and the time apart seemed to count for little, we just picked up where we left off.

I hope it won't be another thirty years before I see the Walshie cousins again.

Pretending to Fly......

I had a gorgeous day today; actually I had a great week, month, summer - but that's another blog.

Stepgranddaughter#1andonly is here for her weekly vist. I only arrived home yesterday from Inishboffin - where I spent a few days writing, so I didn't feel guilty about taking time off to spend with her. I know from experience how short is the timeframe of childhood - and the world isn't waiting with bated breath for my writing. I am determined to drag every bit of enjoyment from this little one's early years.

We went to the lovely skerriesmills.ie where we fed the swans and ducks and laughed as the sea gulls tried to rob the bread. We chatted with a man and his son - the man was very knowledgeable about the wildlife in the area and I learned a few new things - every day is a schoolday. We had a cup of coffee, a juice and chokkie bikkies, made friends with a lovely woman and her three small children. It was fun.

Then we drove up to the playground in Skerries - it has to be one of the most beautifully located playgrounds in Ireland. It is right by the seashore and is really well equipped and totally safe. We fell to chatting with another grandmother, mother and little girl. The little one was a few months older than Carlicious and they were shy at first but soon made friends. The grandmother told me how her husband died a year ago, about how quiet and lonely the house can seem now, and how lucky she is to be near her daughters and their children. She sees everyone at least once a week and the grandkids often have sleepovers in Granny's; she said the company of the children has comforted her most. The woman was a total stranger, I only learned the child's name - but we hugged when we left and she thanked me.

I dropped Caralicious home to The Jemser and drove over to see my poor battered beautiful sister Lousy LuLu LongLegs. Louise had an accident last week, went over the handlebars of her bike, smashed up her jaw and face and broke a bone in her hand. She's on the mend - it'll be a long slow recovery - but she's alive. When you think of how quickly a life can be snuffed out! A simple wobble over a cat's eye and pulling the wrong brake. Where would we the Wobbly Walshies without our supportive compassionate empathetic Lou? Her husband thought he was going to lose her at the side of the road, he held her hand as she told him she loved him, she loved the girls and to mind each other. When the ambulance arrived she was giving the paramedics advice (she's a nurse - a damn fine nurse) despite the horrendous pain she was in. She had nothing but praise for the HSE - from the Killybegs ambulance that took her to Letterkenny General where the staff put her into an induced coma (although she was horrified as she slipped into merciful unconsciousness to see a scissors approaching to cut off the brand new outfit she was wearing!), to the ambulance men who drove her to Dublin the following day  and then the wonderful staff in the Mater Hospital who looked after her with such care and compassion. Praise where it's due - when the system works it works well.

 Louise bought the family home years ago and her bedroom now is the one I shared with my three sisters for years. As I lay on the bed beside her, chatting and trying not to make her laugh I couldn't help visualizing the room as it had been back then. The double bed shared by Aisling and Lousie lay under the Sacred Heart lamp. Judy and I slept in pale pink narrow iron bunk beds.The laughs we had in that room! Plenty of squabbling and meanness too of course! So, between remembering stuff from over forty years ago and feeling so for Lou and the pain she is in, I was in a state of heightened emotion on leaving the house.

When I got home I took Caralicious out onto the green where we played with a neighbour and her little girl - who is five months younger than Cara. This little girl -Maisie Belle - is like a little fairy, dark haired and sallow skinned with fabulous eyes. We played hittingtheballwithspades and pretendingtobebirds - flying around and around the tree before settling to make a nest with twigs and leaves and feathers. When everyone got tired we came home and Cara and I watched Elmo in GrouchLand. Christ I LOVE Elmo! Son#1 took Elmo as his confirmation name - much to the amusement of his classmates and the chagrin of his teacher; who knew he was doing it for subversive reasons, not because he had any devotion to St. Elmo.

It was watering the plants time then - and Cara, in only her knickies and crocs, jumped about with son#1'sgirlfriend (fully clothed!) in a puddle created by the hose. After all that we were exhausted, so we came up to bed and I read her the first three chapters of Winnie-The-Pooh; she loved Pooh, loved that I substituted Cara Teresa for Christopher Robin and Nanny for the adult narrator. I can't wait to continue the story tomorrow because then she'll get to hear about Tigger, I just know she's gonna love Tigger! There'll be a battle in this house when she gets to about six as to who is going to read the Haprry Potter series to her.

She is lying beside me now, fast asleep. And I think of the love that surrounds her, the love that surrounded me as a child from my parents, my siblings, the love of my own family and extended family today. Louise is fond of saying #lafamiliaestodo , and she's right. When families function coherently they are everything - Freud apparently said all we need in life is work and love, and although a lot of his stuff has been discredited I think this tenet holds true.

And  we need the breathing of course - don't forget d'aul breathing!

Diary #2 of Cara Cunnyham aged 2 and 3/4..................

Hello everybody! Nanny told Cara that EVERYBODY loved my last chat. So here's another one. Nanny says it'll be more of the same and maybe people won't read it. But Cara likes chatting - people don't have to listen. Nanny says Cara is very wise and people should listen - but they don't have to.


When we left Granny Teresa's house we went to the mountain. Nanny is always  talking and talking about this mountain called Sliabh Liag. When Seamai was only a little baby Nanny brought him up to the place called Bun Glas and lifted him up in the air to show him where he belonged. Nanny was funny and said 'Kunta Kinte' when she lifted him up and Grandad laughed and called her a 'daft thing' - but she meant it. Nanny says we all belong to the air and the sea and the mountains - lots of people think its the land that's important, the land and the land and the land. Nanny says all the wars in the world were caused by silly people fighting over a bit of muck.

Cara and Nanny stood on the viewing platform and looked down at the Giant's table and chair. Cara wanted to go down to it but Nanny said it was too far. One day Cara and Nanny and Grandad and Mamai are going to go out in a boat to see the table and chair properly. Then Grandad and Cara walked a little way up the mountain. Cara saw the Giant's cloak of purple heather lying over the mountain. Nanny and Cara tried to hear the Giant snoring but there were too many people and cars at Bunglas. And the midges were out and Nanny was scratching and cursing. So we all got back in the car and drove and drove and drove to Swords.

Cara and Liamy and Seamai and Katie all got excited to be back together and jumped and clapped and hugged. Then Cara and Nanny went to the Pavilions to get Cara new shoes - Cara got nice silver sparkly shoes with lights on. Cara's feet twinkle and sparkle and light up like coloured stars when she  runs and skips and jumps. Nanny says Cara is like a fairy. Cara not a fairy. Cara just Cara. Then Nanny say Cara a grumpy boots. Cara not a grumpy boots or tired or a fairy. Cara just Cara. So Nanny got ice creams and we sat on a seat and had a rest and ate our lovely cones. Then we went to the playgound but Cara too tired so we came home and cuddled up nice and cosy and read stories until we went to sleep.

On Monday Cara put on her Peppa togs and Nanny took Cara to Skerries beach. It was a beautiful day and we made sand castles then broke them. We drew pictures in the sand and a big heart with our names and kisses in the middle. We paddle in the little pool and mashed the sand worm casings with our feet. They are squidgey! Then we sat at the edge of the sea and let the waves chase us. Cara is going to be a real wave chaser when she is big. But then Nanny said there were lots of jelliers about so we had to go away from the water. We went to the car and got dressed and then we bought cones and Cara sat in Nanny's seat and ate hers. Then we had to clean the car. Grandad gets mad at sticky messes in his car. Silly Grandad! Then we came home and had lunch and Nanny went off to her shed to 'work'. Cara thinks Nanny just drinks tea and reads books in her blue shed. Maybe she does. But that's ok. Cara went to the playground with Grandad. It was fun. And then it was time for stories and bed.

And then it was ANOTHER big day! And Cara went for her first ever time to the swimming pool. Cara had to wear a swimming hat and armbands. Nanny says swimming hats are great levellers. Everyone looks silly and can't be grumpy when they wear swimming hats. Cara held Nanny's hand and we walked to the edge of the water. 'It's beautiful. Nanny it's beautiful' Cara said. And Nanny cried. Silly Nanny! And Cara went in the little pool first and then the big pool where Nanny held Cara and didn't let go and bounced Cara up and down and we sang 'Nellie the Elephant'. Then we went in the Jacuzzi and Cara laughed and laughed at the bubbles tickling. Then we went in the Lazy River and Cara loved the way the water pulled Cara and Nanny around. Then the Wave Machine came on and Cara sat at the edge and let the waves catch her. It was SO fun. Then a bad thing happened. Nanny and Cara went to the showers and Nanny tried washing Cara's hair. And Cara cried and roared and cried and roared and all the people looked at Nanny as if she was trying to murder Cara. Nanny is no good with Cara's hair. Cara called out 'Mamai Mamai Mamai' and Nanny said 'I know I know I know' but she still kept washing. It was TERRIBLE. But then we got dressed and got a chocolate bar, so Cara felt happy again.

Nanny scratched a card and shouted 'Hooray!'. She won €25. So we went to a shop called Vinnies and Nanny bought a lump of books and Cara bought a pirate ship and a train and a tee shirt. Cara played for ages and ages with the toys in Vinnies and had nice chats with some people. Then we came home and Grandad took Cara to the Pavilions where Cara saw Katie in her work. 'Katie!' said Cara and ran and hugged her. Katie was delighted. Katie is Cara's friend. When Cara and Grandad came home Nanny was in bed. She said she was knackered. So Cara go to bed too. And we had stories. And Cara read 'The Gruffalo' to Nanny because Nanny was tired and Nanny said it was perfick. And Cara and Nanny talked about Mamai coming home and got excited. And now we have to go to sleep so we will have energy for Mamai.

See you tomorrow! Love youXXXXX