Thursday, 23 August 2018


“Then Jocelyn’s Daddy used bad language to the ref and the match was turned off,” the young girl informed her best pal in front of me, “and we were winning and all like” she added with some frustration, annoyance that was speedily cast aside as soon as the next wave crashed at her feet and off they both galloped in to the warm and toasty Atlantic. Coolmaine Strand just outside Bandon holds a very particular place in my heart, it being a beach where many a happy summer was spent with my mother and her mother and today it was especially dazzling as the entire island of Ireland continued to be held tightly in the bosoms of the sun gods “’D’ya know what now we don’t see it too often, and you know another thing there’s nowhere like it in the world when the sun is shining” declared the man to my left. “That’s for sure” I smiled and stuck my nose back into my novel. He turned to his wife and advised her: “For the love of Christ Mary willu put on your sun factor!” I giggled and chomped down on a ham and cheese bread roll with a side serving of Mr. Tayto’s finest always so much tastier and saltier after a long swim. Simple pleasure. Hello summer 2018…

And what a few months it has been, the welcome rays of yellow divinity that radiated down on us all since late May will stay long in the bones and brains of the Irish people. Simply put- It WAS A.M.A.Z.I.N.G! On the last full day of that same heatwave some Colombians, French, Venezuelans, a Croatian, a mix of West Corkconians and Mallow folk descended on Dessie Fitz’s pub in Killavullen where cultures collided for a really special wedding BBQ.  Stories were told, food was shared and music was played until late into the night. The craic was definitely had. The image of my brother fighting back the immense emotion as he made a short speech will always stay with me. Not a man inclined to show his feelings on any grand scale he was completely and utterly at the mercy of that one moment in which his life must have felt so full of love. To quote one guest “their love is the lantern that lights their communities, their friends and their families”- touché! We continued the party for a few days after that, taking in all of what north and east cork had to offer, from plush dinners in Longueville House, watching liners glide past us like seagulls in Cobh and whiskey tasting in Midleton’s stoneclad fortress to dancing feet and fluttering hearts out in Lahern Cross!  Friends and lovers swirling and twirling all around amid faraway hills of golden green.

 “I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky… I think ‘about every night and day, spread my wings and fly away” boomed R Kelly from the DJ box in the Garden Room of the Hibernian Hotel in Mallow. Old photos of school friends (living and some deceased, sadly), of buildings and books and long demolished classrooms flashed behind us on a screen as we gathered in big circles and let it all out there, on the dancefloor. I had the pleasure and joy of co- organising a 20 year school reunion this summer. Weeks of preparation and work culminated in a very special night when time as we knew it stood still for a few hours as the 90’s came back in all their glorious shiny shell tracksuitedness. Long lost friends reconnected over prosecco and packets of meanies. I laughed so much that night as stories came flooding back from way back when. It felt at times like nothing had changed, everyone looked and sounded like they did in school. It was kind of magic really. I will always be so glad I spent a night with these girls, a night where we left our collective baggage at the door and just chatted and danced and giggled like we did all those years ago. Time melts away and slips through our fingers so quickly. That night was a timely reminder of that.

 “What can a song do to you?” “Can it bring back a spring in December?” go the lyrics of a beautiful song by The Unthanks. The songs that boomed out from every nook and cranny of Lord and Lady Waterford’s magical estate carried me into the next phase of summer 2018. Myself and my diamond ukulele sister spent a weekend like no other at the All Together Now Music Festival, a weekend that has left an indelible mark on my soul. We danced like mad wimmin all weekend long, the love, creativity and music willing our exhausted feet to dance to one more tune before bed. One of the highlights was listening to “Bring your own Brass’ at the bandstand on Saturday, a stunning brass ensemble of mad men from London that had people jumping out of their skin. I even got a shout out from the stage for my dance moves! A highlight only matched by actually falling over onto a grassy knoll laughing so much I couldn’t walk or talk as Bairbre’s brilliant mind conjured up another hilarious image.  I had a few days to recover before I took to the skies and made my way to the wine growing soils of classy France. Oh France, where do I even start…?

 After 3 nights discovering Bordeaux city I caught the train to a little town called Libourne just a stone’s throw from the UNESCO listed medieval city of Saint Émilion home to some of the finest red wine makers on the globe. The cobblestoned streets here date back to the 8th Century when a Saint named Émilion decided to set up shop for a bit of praying in an abbey and over the centuries was joined by his buddies the Benedictines, the Augustinians, and The Ursuline Sisters to name a few. They prayed and got pissed- hooray! The only people to beat them here were the Romans in the 2nd century and it was they who planted the first vines- GOD BLESS ‘EM. Viticulture is taken quite seriously in these parts, don’t you know, proven by the fact that in 1884 the first French Wine Producers Union, more commonly known as The Wine Council, was set up. Now, there’s a board I would very happily sit on! I spent 4 days cycling, eating and tasting some very beautiful red wine and on one unexpected afternoon a very fine wine indeed! One hot evening I stopped the bike on the hill in front of the old abbey and as its bell tolled loudly joined only the rustle of a very gentle wind sweeping through the low hanging purple grapes on either side of me I found I was completely and utterly in my element. I almost shed a tear- pure contentment with life in every way. Later that night I shared some wine and fois gras with a lovely young French couple. We all agreed that the perceived snobbery, prestige and fussiness that can sometimes be attached to wine is so misplaced. For me it is primarily about fun and respect, sharing it and not abusing it. The dedication, time and history attached to its production is no longer lost on me, a fine art where man and nature come together to produce love in a glass-CHEERS! As for France, some 20 years ago I missed out on an opportunity to live and study there- I hope to put that right this year. A plan will be hatched…

 Speaking of things hatching… I’m going to divert completely now and divulge a little something more personal with you about my eggs, the reproductive ones that is.  I’ve had mine counted and tested! Yes, around this time last year I decided to get my fertility levels tested for no great reason other than I could and in all seriousness I was quite relieved to learn that indeed I had plenty of healthy little follicles in there and gave a little cheer in my heart when I was told by the lovely egg doctor opposite me that I was in fact ‘bucking the trend.’ Maybe I should freeze them I thought the other night as I watched the Rose of Tralee gals leaping around the stage. So I asked the all-knowing wise uncle Google about such.  I was less than impressed on his stats about egg freezing for women of my vintage.

“Egg quality decreases with age… for this reason we cannot offer egg freezing as a reasonable option for women over 38 years…

I have eggs a plenty but it would seem they are all on bloody zimmer frames. Shit. I turned back to the roses my mind quickly wandering (all too easily done during some of these interviews to be fair) and as I half listened to these women with their unflappable positivity and their young eggs- the bitches- I thought Jaysis have I left it too late? As I turned my attention away from Daithi’s big vacant head I decided in a moment of uncharacteristic urgency that perhaps sperm donation was indeed the way forward because let’s face it folks the clock is ticking and impregnation by the swimmers of some Scandinavian hunk (or knowing my luck some dwarf with a limp and a gooey eye) should not be dismissed. Realistically when the time comes to produce offspring the way Pope Francis and his lot would like me to, I’ll be on a zimmer frame myself by the time the kid is swimming without armbands. I was close to heading off down to  the local town park with my €50 bottle of 2014 Grand Cru and a bag of garlic chips n’ cheese from  the Kentucky chipper for a swing on the swings and  to have a good long think about what I’ve been doing all these years. But I didn’t, instead I had a cup of calming herbal tea and watched an episode of Better Call Saul on Netflix. “What have I been doing since I left school?” I wondered. Well... I’ve been having the time of my life. I chose a path of freedom and adventure and followed my heart at every stage. Husbands and babies were far off in the distance, if at all. I wouldn’t change a single thing. I have spent years trying to live in the present moment so I’m not about to undo all that good work now by rushing into baby mania. One day at a time. My precious eggs and I are in absolutely no rush.

 So the leaves are turning, the evenings drawing in and the flamed coloured dance of seasonal change is upon us once more. School reopens next week for another year of snot and phlegm encrusted shoelaces and endless lesson plans all the while trying to avoid another life altering dose of pinworms. Oh the glamour!  No wonder I have a tendency for fine wines! But shur I do love those little kids, they get into bloodstream you see…

 Have a gentle and colourful autumn everyone. Keep the summer of 2018 close to your heart. I know I will!

 
Liz
xxx

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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