Idyllic III

Once upon a time Prince Charming and his newish bride (one out of one newish brides) were driving round Ireland with one car, one tent, two canoes and two bikes. (They had, at this stage, no fridge.) They went to see the James Joyce Tower on their way from Dublin to the Wicklow Hills, and there they fell in love with Sandycove. They swam and canoed here, with seals, though this is the tame side of the rocky outcrop. The real thing- the Forty Foot- is on the other.

The Forty Foot became an "official" outdoor swimming spot in the late nineteenth century, and was a male only preserve. I am absolutely certain that I read somewhere of the nude nature of swimming off Forty Foot- hence, one must presume, the single sex rule! Now you are not allowed to swim in your birthday suit...

 Although, as you can see from our shots on Friday night, those swimming on the rougher side were encased all in wetsuits and probably needed no encouragement in the wearing thereof.

On the more sheltered side however there was a gentleman, fully dressed by now, pulling on his socks whose little bundle of swimming gear did not seem to hold such a new-fangled, lily livered nonsense as a wetsuit.

 I was with him. In spirit.

Just to the left of the strawberries are small concrete cubicles- not at all closed or private- with pegs bashed in for the holding of your clothes. Women can swim here now too- and have been admitted for oh maybe twenty-five years? Although as far as I know they still don't have the right to be full members, and thus gain a key to the clubhouse...

Joyce does describe swimming at Forty Foot in the opening pages of Ulysses: He capered before them down towards the fortyfoot hole.. They followed the winding path down to the creek. A young man clinging to a spur of rock near him moved slowly frogwise his green legs in the deep jelly of the water. An elderly man shot up near the spur of rock a blowing red face. He scrambled up by the stones, water glistening on his pate and on its garland of grey hair, water rilling over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of his black sagging loincloth.

I'm wondering is there always the elderly gentleman, are there always the seals, will one day I too swim?

A voice, sweettoned and sustained, called to him from the sea. Turning the curve he waved his hand. It called again. A sleek brown head, a seal's, far out on the water, round.

Idyllic II

or Reasons to be Thankful 705-762

 Thank you for Sandycove, a quiet and plush beach outside Dublin with two of my favourite quirky spots in Ireland- Joyce's Martello tower being the second. Forty Foot deserves a post all of its own, and yes, it is getting one!

 Thank you for beaches to play on and rocks to climb and walks to be had in the warm evening after a smooth drive down fast roads. Thank you for PC who just decided that we would go, that we would all go, and that we would all go for the whole weekend, and it just sort of happened and was just sort of perfect!

 Thank you for the sweeping beauty of coastline and waves and intrepid human spirit. thank you for people who swim in the sea, wetsuits or no! I so wanted to be one of them on Friday night!

 Thank you for unexpected and never quite believed fabulous weather, for blue skies and sun-drenched dusk. That's the top of the tower just to the right of the tree. I've still never made it inside, though I've read those opening pages of Ulysses three times now- once for every time I've tried to read the book- yes, a post coming on that too!

 Thank you for the National Museum- and for the fact that it's free to get in-  a frugal post coming up on Dublin too...- and for the novelty of getting off the Luas at the front gate! Thank you that we found both sites, and persuaded the strawberries inside them as well! Thank you for the heritage that is Ireland's, that Anglo-Irish mix. Is it a Chinese blessing or curse to live in interesting times?

Thank you for Molly Malone, and Trinity and Grafton Street and bikes and crowds and bustle and street performers and flower sellers and sun!

Oh thank you for two days of pure, unadulterated hot sun and blue skies and basking opportunities in St Stephen's Green. Thank you that we did think to buy suncream on the way down, and that we did pack sunhats- untouched in three years! If that was our Irish summer, thank you nonetheless!

 And the rugby- well, thanks for an interesting experience! I have now learnt all sorts of chants though the "Are you Clancy in disguise?" one seemed a bit unfair to Clancy (apparently a linesman who does occasional and ineffective stints as a referee) because even I could see how rubbish the referee games official was!

 Thank you for the hilarious crowds and the atmosphere and the craic! Thank you for the two hilarious Leinster supporters who talked to us all the way there on the bus. They were right to commiserate with us in advance!

 Thank you for dry weather all through the day, as that terrace would have been no fun with two strawberries under a deluge! Thank you for that blue sky into which the Stiletto in the Ghetto Spire of Dublin seems to disappear. Thank you for how long we all stood with chins in the air. I thought the Garda would come and move us on, as they did with the skateboarders!

 Thank you as always for Dublin Zoo. It's flat. No hill to climb- not that Belfast Zoo can do much about its mountain, I suppose! And it's gorgeous. And there are playparks and ice-cream kiosks and shady benches everywhere! And lots and lots of feeding sessions.

 But finding out that Africa Day was happening in the same place on the same day, well, that was a bonus. And that was interesting! So much celebration of diversity and community and identity. So much music and colour and kindness of strangers.

 I think there would be a lot to learn on the subject of kindness in the whole field of identity and culture and community and flags.

 And speaking of kindness, thank you for Ang of Tracing Rainbows. Thank you for her great concern, and kindness, and thoughtfulness, and sheer generosity. Their Great Stash really does have the perfect solution for every dilemma- even my virtual reading one! I can get further than the second page of The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry now. It really has been a time of unlikely pilgrimages for me over the last week or so. Thank you for that. Let's see where they go!

Idyllic I

Prince Charming took us all to Dublin this weekend. It was idyllic (apart from the rugby result) and the weather was tropical (unbelievably) and I will be rambling on and on about it all week. This is nonetheless Ireland and a roaring fire is always what you need at the end of any idyllic day, especially if it's in the library nook of The Red Cow, and you have both Guinness and Irish coffee to hand.

Jo was the first to investigate the bookshelves and then we were all at it. PC found French reformed theology, and I found The White Company by A Conan Doyle. I'm presuming the hotel bought some job lot of books just to add atmosphere, and so who knows what journeys the books have been on? This one was at some point being read on a tram in Southampton. The book mark is a ticket that cost 2 1/2d. I wonder did the reader ever get to the end of the book before the end of his journey, real or metaphorical? 'Twould appear not. I read on a little bit- if we all go and read on a little bit more, the ticket might find out what happens in the end...

"Whipping up the little woman, he lifted her lightly to his lips..." Great line. On the way home tonight I was reading an interview in yesterday's Irish Times with Jilly Cooper- on "bonkbusters" and Fifty Shades of the Death of Feminism. I like A Conan Doyle's style better!

For the snail lovers of Blogville- to the best of my knowledge no snails were harmed, or eaten, in the racing event of Their School on Friday. All snails seem to have been sent home with their owners. Ours were released into the wild of the playground, under a nice big shady tree, because there was no way on this snaily planet that they were coming to Dublin with me!

Aspirational Holiday Reading and the Reading Revolution?

Last year I had a very great deal to discuss. This year it is all a very great Work in Progress!I noticed when I opened Ulysses in Cork that my first and last attempt had managed 150 pages out of its 933. I thought I could read it in the week before arriving in Dublin- I'm up to 100 now, a week after arriving in Dublin! We did that hop on hop off tour of Dublin this day last week, and were right beside the very witty guide who asked if anyone had read Ulysses. Of course I said that I was trying to! He was most encouraging and I could hear him announce incredulously to the bus as we eventually got off, "She's reading Ulysses!!"

It helps if you've been to very Martello Tower which opens the thing, and once even swam in the bay where Daedelus and company swam. That was in a former life though- this trip consisted of rock climbing, if you can spot the scrambling strawberries..

I don't mind the stream of consciousness, even though I do have to have to re-read at least a page every time I pick it back up. I like the falling into and out of thought, place, memory, must-do list, smells, dreams. I find it reassuring that the chaos of unordered thought can be enshrined in literature, as a talisman for all unordered thinkers! And it does include the most fabulous descriptions of the sea for anyone on an Irish beach holiday!

Now. Confession time. When asked what I had wanted for my birthday I had reasonably, I felt, requested the DVD of Fergal Keane's Story of Ireland. Instead I got- here it comes- a Kindle! Oh! Controversial! So all the rest of the books I am either reading or trying to read have been downloaded via Whispernet (oh but you have to LOVE that word) to what officially comes up on my non-reflective screen as Mags' Kindle.

I am loving Robinsoe Crusoe- chose this one a: because the original Crusoe- an adventurer called Sedgwick, set sail on that voyage from Kinsale, and b: out of copyright it can be downloaded free, gratis and for nothing as can many, many other titles, like Pride and Prejudice which was my first ever Whispernet arrival.

Is it possible to impregnate prose with one more charged syllable of dramatic irony? I think not. If you have ever struggled to teach this, as I have, look no further. Chapter 1 of RobCru. Or practically every other sentence in all the chapters I've read so far (these amounting to two and a half..)

When done with that set of voyages and strange islands, I'll be straight into another with Travels into Several remote Nations of the World in Four Parts. By Lemuel Gulliver, First a Surgeon, and then a Captain of Several Ships. To give it its real and very full name. a: Because we were all around St Patrick's Cathedral and the house where it was written and b: because being out of cpoyright.... And to my shame, c: despite having lived and worked in the city of Saints and Scholars, close to Gosford Castle where Swift holidayed, I haven't ever actually read it.

And this is the next on the contemporary list- downwhispered to Mags' Kindle to demonstrate to Cooking Catherine how frighteningly easy it is to spend money when your Kindle already holds all your details in its little Amazon cash register! Also because she highly recommends it, and Cooking Catherine is never wrong about books! She's actually never wrong about anything as far as I can see, but she is very good on books!

So, off to bed for another page of Ulysses, not including the one I'll have to read again... And that will leave only 832 to go!

Do you ever find perfection?

I am catching up on all the truly splendid blogs you truly splendid bloggistes produce. Really. Gorgeous images, words, minds and hearts. It is perhaps more striking after a break, but nonetheless, there's glorious world of thought out there where you are right now!

I'll content myself with thoughts of the perfect holiday. Beach, potter round Kinsale, Monopoly, bed. Beach, potter round Kinsale, Monopoly, bed. Maybe a little change today? Potter round Kinsale, beach, UNO, bed. Beach, potter round Kinsale..... Edited highlights below!

This six year old was standing up on his surf board by the end of the week!

Look of disgust on face of very competitive thirty-eight year old at consistent speed with which child three decades younger can bankrupt the lot of us!

Babette Cole's riding companion, Babette Cole being just to right of shot, arriving on horseback with Dame Cole to her story-telling session at Kinsale Arts week!

The Tutankhamun exhibition in Dublin- Mattman has us all deciphering hieroglyphics now!

A tiny emporium dedicated to every width, colour, fabric and style of ribbon conceivable- A. Rubanesque in the Powerscourt Centre, Dublin. (Ric-rac in two candy shades, two metres. Very restrained and disciplined ten minutes of delight!)