THE JOURNAL

16 November Saturday

Between ourselves, we called him Johnny the Timber. He has delivered trailer loads of firewood to us every year. He also cleans our chimney, although these two jobs are done at different times. He would never bring us firewood and then hop up on the roof to clean the chimney. He cleans chimneys on Saturdays. Top down. He no longer has any timber to sell, so we changed his phone number name to Johnny the Chimney. His Monday to Friday job is as a Postman. So he could also be listed as Johnny the Post, but he is not our Postman so it is best to keep his name tied to the Chimney. Our postman is Derek.

17 November Sunday

The names of places do not change even when they change.

Nugent’s bar is called Maryanne’s by the locals.  Maryanne was Rose’s mother and she ran the pub for decades until it became too much for her and Rose and her husband Davey took over. Maryanne made change in a metal box. She was the only one allowed to go into the box. She held the key and she kept it in her pocket at all times. The name Nugent’s is painted on the front over the window, but it makes no difference. People still speak of meeting down at Maryanne’s for a pint.

The Regional was the name of the big hospital in Cork. It is now Cork University Hospital (CUH ), but if you ask any taxi driver in Cork city to take you to The Regional, you will certainly be delivered to CUH.

The Roundabout was the name of the bar in Ardfinnan. A roundabout is a traffic circle. There is only one roundabout in the village so it is a simple thing to know which bar is being discussed. The bar has been called The Pure Drop for at least twenty-five years. The name, referencing a line from Edmund Spenser’s work The Faerie Queen, is painted in big red letters on the car park end, but most people call it The Roundabout.

18 November Monday

We bought two sorts of blue cheese both made in the Glen of Aherlow. One is called Cool Paddy and the other is Cool Mary. The lady at the cheese stall wrote the name of each one on the paper in which she wrapped the cheese. We took them home and tasted them and decided that we liked each of them equally well. Having them both out on a cheeseboard at the same time meant that they got mixed up. It is only Monday and they are already separated from their names. We know that Cool Mary is made from sheep’s milk and Cool Paddy is made from goat’s milk. I cannot taste which is which.

19 November Tuesday

Each time I cut a rose to bring it into the house, I am certain that this rose is the last rose of the year. Each time I am pleased to feel that I am saving this final blossom from death by a sudden hard frost. A few days later, another rose comes into bud on a different rosebush. Each rose may be a late rose, but none of the roses are the last rose.

20 November Wednesday

Tommie is back at home. He is feeling better in himself, but his legs are not. He says that his knees are not keeping up with his spirits. He is not doing the exercises the physio gave him to do and he is not sleeping well. He does not feel Able for a trip to Dunnes. He would like to buy some boxes of chocolates and a few bottles to give as Christmas gifts, as well as some razors for The Shaving.  I said that we can make a list and that I will go to the shop to buy things for him. I dislike shopping at Dunnes and he loves shopping at Dunnes. I will do the shopping for him and he will feel sad that he has missed a favourite outing.

21 November Thursday

There was snow falling when we woke up. Everywhere was beautiful and white and silent. It was a heavy wet snow, so I knew it would not last. But for little while the white mountains and hills made it look like we had been transported to Switzerland. I drove down to the shop carefully. There is no such thing as snow tyres here and most people have no idea how to drive in icy conditions. As I crossed the little hump-backed bridge into the village, I remembered the signs in New Hampshire, always warning that a BRIDGE FREEZES FIRST. I have never seen such a sign here. I doubt that this fact is common knowledge. Things rarely drop to freezing.

22 November Friday

The candidates for Tipperary South in the General Election are everywhere. The candidates and their helpers are knocking on doors, and paper publicity arrives daily with the postman. The run-up to the election is only three weeks so everyone is busy getting their message out. There are posters up on trees and utility poles. Mattie McGrath seems to be the only one who owns a home-made tent-like trailer with his name and photograph on two sides. It is parked in various spots around the county. Just as we grow accustomed to seeing it in one place, it is gone. Its absence becomes a surprise. It will re-appear somewhere else for a few days, before being moved again. In these days building up to the election, I find myself rushing about saying, “Chicken Brennan. Chicken Brennan.”  This is the name of another candidate who is running for office.  His name is Michael “Chicken” Brennan. His posters on the utility poles make me smile. Michael Brennan is a common enough name, so if most people know this man as Chicken, it is wise to have that name on the poster so that people know which Michael Brennan is running for office.

23 November Saturday

Because the new kitchen door is so tight and well-fitted, we feel no drafts. It is a surprise how much warmer the room is. I no longer need the long curtain that used to hang up over the door at night specifically to keep the winds out.  I cannot bring myself to get rid of the small hooks that Simon cut out of oak a long time ago from which to hang the curtain rail.

24 November Sunday

Edel described the dog as Gentle Out.  She said that he is the easiest and most docile creature she has ever known and that he is a Pure Dote around the children. People often say that someone is Happy Out, but this is the first time I have heard Gentle Out. The meaning is easily understood.

25 November Monday

Heavy rains fell all weekend. We hardly noticed the rain because the winds were so fierce and so unending. We could hear the thrashing and blowing everywhere inside the house. There was no escaping the brutal noise. I was surprised to see that the fields all around the village have disappeared. The fields have disappeared and so have the sheep that were grazing in those fields.  Everywhere is replaced by lakes.

26 November Tuesday

Ute corrected me about the two German brothers who own the discount supermarkets Lidl and Aldi. It turns out that I was wrong.  We all believed that these two men are brothers.  The two men are indeed German, but they are not brothers. They are competitors, and both stores have special offers now known as The Middle Aisle. That is where the similarity ends.

27 November Wednesday

Ruth the Feral Farm Feline never seems to get any bigger. She is petite. Tidy. Every morning I find her outside the kitchen door playing soccer by herself with a wine cork. She is good with her feet. This is a delightful game to watch, but it is dangerous too. Each time I step outside there are wine corks in funny places on the path waiting to send me flying.

28 November Thursday

Clothing Banks are located near Bottle Banks, or all alone at the remote edges of car parks. They become stuffed full to overflowing with used clothing. When the small hole is so full that nothing more can be deposited, clothes must be left in bags on the ground. Whenever this happens, people come along after dark and rip open the bags to see if there is anything that they want inside. This activity is usually blamed on the Traveling Community but I do not believe that they are always the guilty party. It is rural tradition to blame any and all anti-social behavior on the Travellers.

29 November Friday Election Day

We voted down at the elementary school. The children had the day off school in order to accommodate the polling station. Campaign posters everywhere are looking bedraggled and some are torn.  The ongoing wind has not made this electioneering easy. I asked Tommie if he had received his card in the post to allow him to go and vote. He was outraged.  He said, “I do not need a card. I have never needed a card. The people down there know me. They all know me.”

28 October Bank Holiday Monday

Twelve or thirteen hounds ran down the track.  They raced around the house three times and then around the book barn and the tool shed another two times. They were barking and baying as they ran. As a mass, they jumped up the banking and disappeared into Joe’s field. We neither saw nor heard them again. We never saw a hunter nor anyone with a gun. We did not see any humans all day.

 

29 October Tuesday

The herd of young cattle in Joe’s top field rushed over to look at me as I walked by. The noise of that many large animals running was thunderous. Running as a crowd made them appear strong and fearless, but they stopped abruptly when they neared the gate where I was standing.

30 November Wednesday

I went to the Chinese acupuncturists. The man and woman work together. She speaks English and he does not. After having me explain things to her, she repeats everything to him in Chinese. He inserted needles and left me in a darkened room for about an hour. He hummed a little as he worked but the only thing he said was: “Okay Lady?” After removing the needles he gave me a vigorous massage and then repeated: “Okay Lady?” giving me a little tap on my foot to let me know that he was finished.

31 October 2024 Thursday

Walker and I walked up to the Green Barn. Whatever has been planted in the the fields is growing fast.

1 November Friday

I went into a shop in Cahir to buy a newspaper. There were two young priests waiting for toasted bacon sandwiches.  They also ordered coffee and picked out a selection of chocolate bars. They were wearing long white robes and sneakers. One priest said to the other that he loved the big pockets of their robes because he is always hungry.  He likes to carry a supply of chocolate.

2 November Saturday

The feral cats scream when the kitchen door is opened. The feral cats scream when the kitchen door is closed. The young one, who is no longer a kitten but not yet a full grown cat, is omnipresent. The big black and white bruiser arrives frequently, but the young cat’s mother rarely makes an appearance. I was on the verge of giving the small cat a name. I have grown fond of her. I think of it as a she but I have no idea of her sex. She sits on the pillow and she sleeps on the pillow and she is rarely not on the pillow on the bench. But now this screeching has begun. I thought it was a demand for food but once it has started the screaming and pushing at my legs and the door do not stop. The small cat screams as though it is in danger or in pain. She should be up at the farm catching rodents and drinking milk.

5 November Tuesday

We visited Tommie at St Patrick’s. He was not looking as robust as the last time I saw him. Maybe it was just because he was not wearing his bright red sweater. He was happy for a visit though he told us that he had had a niece down from Dublin earlier and he said she wore him out. He claimed that she never stopped talking for two solid hours. He told us a long rambling story about having worked under a bus for his whole life. He said he was never once Out From Under The Bus, not until the very last day of his job. He said he was happy to know that he need never again work under a bus. I knew he had worked as a farm labourer from the time he left school at 14. I could not make the connection with the word Bus. I am certain that Tommie has never ridden on a bus. He told me that once. It took time for me to understand that he was not saying BUS but BOSS. He was glad to be Out From Under the Boss.

6 November Wednesday

The day began grey and overcast. It promised to continue like this. The weather would not improve. Heavy cloud cover made everything feel sad. I did not know what to do with myself. The one thing I knew that I did not want to do was to talk to anyone. I did not want to talk and I did not want to listen. I decided to walk up the Mass Path. I have been unable to get through there since the spring because it has been heavily overgrown, and branches and trees have blown down. I decided the struggle of trying to go up there would be a good distraction from the ongoing and endless reports of results and analysis. Taking work gloves, secauters and a thorn-proof jacket, I pulled on my wellie boots and set off. Right away at the bottom, by the stream, I had to climb over and through a fallen tree. There were a few moments of clear walking but most of the journey was slow and difficult. I cut brambles and boughs out of my way in order to keep moving uphill. I got as far as Johnnie Mackin’s orchard, or to the part of the path that runs alongside the orchard. The path ahead was blocked for as far as I could see. There were apples on the ground, some rotting and some looking still good enough to collect. I thought I might return with a big bag. The smell was fetid. I could not go any further. The way was heavily tangled and overgrown. I considered climbing up the banking and into the orchard and continuing that way, but I quickly saw that that option was almost as bad. I turned around and started back down the hill towards home. I stepped on a mossy rock and crashed to the ground. I wrenched my shoulder trying to break my fall and I fell heavily onto my hip. I lay in the wet leaves and mud and I caught my breath. I wondered if I had broken my hip even while I knew that I had not. I burst into tears. I was not crying about the physical pain. I was crying about everything else. I was weeping in fear and disappointment and rage. I cried. I sobbed. Eventually, shaking with the cold and the wet mud soaking through my trousers, I stopped crying. I got up and continued my way back down the treacherous path.

 7 November Thursday

While grabbing a clump of purple sage, a bee stung my left index finger. The bees and their activities are dying back but some are still flying around to get what they can from the plants. They stop and rest often. Which is why the bee was in among the sage leaves. It stung me when I grabbed it. My finger is now swollen and tight and it feels like it might explode.

8 November Friday

I thought it would be my hip or my thigh that would hurt but it is my shoulder that has retained the memory of my fall. Today, I can barely lift my right arm. It must have taken the whole weight of my body falling as my arm reached out to catch myself.

9 November Saturday

The geese are all over the castle car park at the market. Some days, like today, they refuse to go back into the water. By the time they have returned to the river the tarmac is a slippery mess.

11 November Tuesday

The light is terrible. It is the same white light all day. There is no sun and there are no shadows and there is no variation from morning until the end of the afternoon. Day after day. Every day is the same. A heavy white cloud cover sits over everything. It is bitterly cold. We cannot see any further than the fence through the fog. There is neither background nor any view behind even the most familiar things. Night falls early and the darkness is complete. There are no clouds, no stars and no moon. The dense fog sits heavily on the land and on our spirits. The cold and the fog are the only topics of conversation.

12 November Tuesday

I continue to sand the table. Over many years, the light from the skylight has made the varnish break down into a gummy surface. Newspapers stick on the table and they tear as they are lifted.  Kieran tells me that this is what happens when the surface has been exposed to too much sun over a long time. The top surface has mostly come off but now I am trying to make it all into an even tone. Some of the old varnish is hard to remove. I keep thinking I will get an electric sander on the job, but I only think about it. I do not get around to getting one. I just keep working away at small mottled areas. I am now using the Japanese sanding device which is made of a lot of bristles tightly bound together with strong cotton rope. The working method is to hold the bundle in both hands, one hand on top of the other and to push and pull along with the grain of the wood. It is satisfying work, but it is slow. Maybe in the spring I will finish the surface off with an electric sander, but for now I continue to push and pull.

13 November Wednesday

Fergal sent Vinnie to collect the book shipment. The door to my workroom was open while he loaded 27 boxes from the room to his van. When he was finished, I closed the door and went into the house for lunch. Later I took a walk with Breda in the bitterly cold white fog. We wore reflective vests over our jackets. The few cars or tractors passing us all had their head lamps on and they drove slowly. It was 6.30 before I went back up to my room to look for something. The small cat, who I am now calling Ruth, was in there. She started screeching the minute I walked in. Had I not left something behind she would have been in there all night, warm but even hungrier than usual. She knocked a box of nails and a lot of papers onto the floor. As soon as I go outdoors she follows me from building to building and waits patiently outdoors.  Maybe she thinks she is a dog, but dogs do not scream.

8 October Tuesday

The leaves on the corner of the grass roofed shed are turning yellow.  I call this the Potato Vine but I know it is not the proper name. It is a climbing plant in the Solanum Jasminoides family but I never remember its exact title. The white blossoms are my reason to grow it. The official name does not matter much to me.

10 October Thursday

“I’ll take a cup of Tea In the Hand.” This is what a person says when they are in a hurry, particularly if they are working. Or he or she might say, “A cup Out of the Hand.” In the Hand or Out of the Hand, both mean that the cup of tea will be accepted, but that it will be drunk from its mug while standing up. This is not a take away tea in a cardboard cup.  Nor is it a cup of tea accompanied by a biscuit or with a slice of bread and butter. This is not sitting down for a cup of tea.

11 October Friday

Cate told me about a sheep farmer who died recently. She said that before the burial, his family filled his coffin with wool.

12 October Saturday

Last Saturday, the food and health inspectors were at the Farmers’ Market. They went from stall to stall asking questions. They examined each refrigeration device. While I was at the organic vegetable stall, the man even asked to look underneath the table. He carefully took down the names of the two young French girls on duty. I wondered if he understood that they were part of the WWOOFER (World Wide Organisation of Organic Farms) scheme and might well be somewhere else working with a different organic farmer in a different county or even another country by next week. There were two or maybe three inspectors with clipboards and pens going around and each time I reached a table ready to purchase something there seemed to be an interrogation going on so I wandered away and hoped that a different table would have already been examined so that I could buy my vegetables or fish in an uninterrupted interaction. This Saturday the vendors are still talking about the awkwardness of last week’s inspections.  And one of the inspectors was there as usual.  Today she was there as an ordinary shopper with her market basket, and without a clipboard.

13 October Sunday

There is always a new version of a product that I would not have considered. Yesterday I saw a display of Hoof Proof Buckets at the Coop. They are on sale.

14 October Monday

The Whitfield Hospital is in Waterford. People go there for specialised treatments and diagnoses. A lot of people attend for cancer treatments. The car park is always full. It is always full and every car has someone sitting in it. Everyone who goes to Whitfield is driven there by someone else because they are usually not well enough to drive themselves home after whatever treatment they have. I say They but I include myself in this grouping of drivers. Us drivers could go somewhere else but we tend to stay nearby. We none of us know how long our passenger will be and we want to be ready for when they need to be driven home. We go into the entrance hall of the hospital and we use the toilets and we get ourselves a cup of tea or coffee and then we return to our cars to wait. Some people read a book. Some read a newspaper. Some sleep. A lot of people look at their phones. In fine weather, an older man will lean on his car with his tummy pressed against the door, and his elbows on the roof. Standing out of his car like that shows that he is available if anyone cares to have a chat.

16 October Wednesday

Walker and I have been out together three times this week.  When I open the gate, he races out of the yard and then turns to look back at me. I stretch my arms and point first left and then right. He decides and swings first his head and then his body in his choice of direction. Today it was right. We headed for Tom Cooney’s fields. Walker was distracted on the way down hill by a dead rabbit on the verge in front of Sean and Elvira’s house. We left the rabbit and walked up the farm track as far as the green barn. The fields all around had been ploughed and planted, so I did not think we should go any further. Walker was unusually eager to go back the way we had come. I could not understand his rush to turn around. When we walked back up the small slope I understood. It was the rabbit. He was rushing back to check on the dead rabbit. He did no more than to sniff the corpse up and down several times. He did not try to eat any part of it. He just needed to know it was there and that no one had disturbed it in his brief absence.

17 October Thursday

The woman in front of me had an enormous box to post at the Post Office counter. The postmistress assumed that the woman was sending eggs again. She confirmed that she was indeed posting eggs. The woman explained that the eggs were peacock eggs and that people who want to raise peacocks are willing to pay a high price for them. The eggs need a large amount of padding inside the package so that they do not break on route. Her parcels are always large but always light .

18 October Friday

There are terms that evolve and everyone knows what they mean so the rest of the information can be left out. Lately, I have noticed the use of  The Middle Aisle. Lidl and Aldi are discount supermarkets owned by two German brothers. In the two central aisles there are specials on offer, stacked high. The offers change every week. It might be tools or back to school equipment or maybe gardening or kitchen or welding equipment. Whatever is there is there in a finite amount and when it is gone there will probably not be any more of that thing. People rush to buy electrical tools when they are announced. If an item has been purchased from The Middle Aisle it is just that. It is a bargain. There is no need to mention the name of the store.

19 October Saturday

It is good to have a new cheese stall at the Farmers’ Market. Most of the cheeses on sale are Irish cheeses, from small producers, including many that we have not seen before. The people who run the stall live in Lismore. They drive over the mountains to do the market. The Lismore Market is now closed for the winter, but they do one in Dungarvan and maybe another one in Youghal. It has been a long time since there was a woman who did a cheese stall at our market, but she always told people that she did not like cheese and that she never ate it herself. She was not a good advertisement for her products. On her final day at the Farmers’ Market, she said she was retiring because she preferred to play golf on a Saturday morning. On that last day, she told me that her name was Catherine not Kathleen. I had been calling her Kathleen for years. I do not know why she waited so long to correct me.

20 October Sunday

There are many jobs to do before the winter sets in. Firewood has been delivered so it must be stacked in the lean to and in the house. It is all ash, good and dry, but heavy to handle. I must snap off all but the tiniest figs from the branches. The raspberries are nearly gone. I continue to get a small bowlful every other day but they are not sweet. The acidity gives a different pleasure.  Soon I will need to put out some mouse traps and maybe some poison too. The small cat and his mother and the big black and white one skulk around the kitchen door all day. I wonder if they will serve as a deterrent to the mice.

21 October Monday

Storm Ashley hit the country yesterday. Counties on the Atlantic coast were hit the hardest, but even here we had an Amber warning in place until three in the morning. Everyone hunkered down. Lawn furniture was put away, as was anything else that might be snatched up by the wind and smashed into something else. Candles, matches and torches were placed on tables in easy-to-reach locations. The winds were wild and noisy all day, and well into the night. The rain came in gusts and it pelted in every direction. What it was not doing was falling from up to down. The rain was everywhere and during the intervals when it stopped the sun came out and there were rainbows. Sometimes there were rain and rainbows at the same time. There was always wind. The wind never paused. Coastal locations were warned of surges. By this morning the radio was full of reports of flooding and of the number of houses that lost electricity. We did not lose electricity nor trees nor slates off the roof. There are a lot of branches to pick up and there are odd things to be found in odd places.

22 October Tuesday

I went to visit Tommie in the Rehabilitation Unit of St Patrick’s Hospital in Cashel. He was in the physical therapy room when I arrived. They allowed him out to have a brief visit with me. We sat together in the bright sunny visiting room Wearing a bright red sweater, he looked much better than he had in the hospital. He is no longer on oxygen, but he still is not allowed toast. I do not understand this diet he is on and he does not understand it well enough to explain it to me. Tommie told me that the food served on The Unit is very good but he explained that “When you share food with Strangers, they‘ve got a little bit of you.” By strangers, he means anyone who is not family, but he said that at his age his whole life is already in the control of others. He also explained to me that being old means saying Thank You a lot.He was interested to know if I found the driving difficult going through the various roundabouts needed to drive to Cashel. He considered the journey a massive undertaking and could not believe I had come so far and all alone just to see him. It is only about twenty kilometres but to his mind, it was far. He was eager to discuss a possible trip to Dunnes’ together after he returns home, so that he can buy some Christmas chocolates for gifts and a bottle of whiskey for Pat Flan. At that point the physiotherapist arrived to collect him. She said that he would have to keep working on his leg exercises if he is planning a shopping trip to Dunnes’.

23 October Wednesday

As well as walking Walker, I have been taking Jessie out. We go up the track that Breda and I call Murphy’s Lane although I am not sure that it has anything to do with anyone named Murphy these days.  Jessie loves to race through the stubble and to scout around the edges of the fields for rabbit holes.  I like examining the old wreck of a house and the shed with the triangular windows.

25 October Friday

People arrive at one of the two shops in the village and they load something into the boot of their car or into the back of a truck. Bags of coal or bags of potatoes.  Gas canisters. Kindling. Blocks. Fence posts. Then they might have a conversation with someone else who has stopped to get something.  And then with another person. Eventually they make their way into the shop and tell someone behind the counter what they have taken and they pay for it. Farming can be a lonely life.  For a lot of people, not only for the farmers, coming to the village to buy petrol is as much about meeting someone to talk to as it is about replenishing supplies.