Down The Rocky Road – Mown, Mown, Mown

Carrick-On-Shannon is a great place for a walk and a drink

I would like to introduce you to the Irish word craic, pronounced the same as crack. It actually comes from Northern English, where it meant “chat” or “gossip”. If you said “what’s the crack?”, it meant “what’s been happening?” Someone might say “there was some good crack at the pub last night”, meaning the banter flowed freely and there were a lot of fun things to talk about. This takes on an extra meaning in Ireland, where it also refers to a very special type of amusement – the kind that everyone in your circle finds hilarious although others might not. Sometimes the target will see the funny side, and other times not.

For example, in one railway station, they stuck the timetable on the electronic door so anyone wanting to read it would get close before it moved to the side. And when you move over to read it, the door would of course close, taking the timetable with it. People who discovered this sat there watching the stream of unfortunates try to read the timetable. It’s dark humour but even the head of Health and Safety at Haringey Council would chuckle. That’s the purest definition of craic.

On Wednesday morning, we became victims of this ourselves. The evening before, the children went to look for something in the car and left three of the doors open all night. I discovered this when I left our caravan to check the post. The post box was empty, but a letter was sitting on the driver’s seat in the car, doors still wide open. Utterly brilliant trolling; made my day – we didn’t stop grinning from breakfast to dinner.

I have also been involved in this activity myself: before we left Spain, the previous owner of our property told me of a man in his early eighties, a former farmer who lives just round the corner from us and was looking forward to meeting us. He is a local legend as only a few years ago he was brutally gored by a bull, its horn ripping through him, causing him to spend a year in hospital recovering. The story of his resilience made it to the TV and press as well. But he is a bit of a character and everyone around knows of him. As we were coming from Spain, I bought him an appropriate present: a bullfighter’s hat and cape. I hope he wears them at the pub.

An exhibit at Glenview Folk Museum

On Monday 14 July we went to Glenview Folk Museum near Ballinamore. It’s packed full of artifacts from past times, and the man who runs the place takes you on a tour round the various objects and displays at lightning speed. There’s a salvaged food truck from the 1920s in there, a massive collection of eggcups, an early electric sports car from 50 years ago (no joke), and a huge number of exhibits from different genres, such as apothecary, newsagent, café, domestic, and automotive.

Just a year ago, we would not have been able to spend so long in such a place, but things are changing and the children are getting a lot more interested in this type of thing. Except Livia, who shut off after a while and went outside.

The children look on as sheep eat away at their inheritance

The next morning, we woke up to find several sheep outside our window: they had escaped from their field and had decided to come over for a mini-break. The weather had been quite changeable, so we took them to a soft play centre in Fenagh Visitors’ Centre. It’s always a huge surprise to show up in small villages and find such facilities – we have virtually everything we need around us, despite being a million miles from a large city.

Seán's sheep

Seán often appears in the area either herding his sheep with a quad bike or checking on his land to make sure the sheep are secure. He promised me one of the lads would come up and cut our land as the grass was starting to get very tall. A lot of it had been appropriated by reeds, and it needed a proper tractor to mow it.

On Monday we were in Longford at a mower shop – I bought a very heavy-duty brush cutter and strimmer at a specialist shop, and then we went to Carrick-On-Shannon to buy some garden tools, such as a rake and a spade. While we were there, Seán called and said one of the lads was coming up to cut our grass. We hurried back from Carrick to find almost all of it done. What would have taken an ordinary mower at least a full day had been done with the tractor in a matter of minutes.

The tractor mows part of our field

The lad on the tractor was 17 years old and handled the immense beast like a vacuum cleaner in an empty room. I gave him a couple of notes for his efforts and we had a chat. Clever kid, had a lot to say – he could have been 40 years old. Anyway, it seems with all these people we’ve met, we’re on the way to becoming part of the local fabric.

We also took a trip to a place called Bóthar na Naomh, a country park with a predetermined path to follow. The shorter route is only a couple of kilometres, and mainly on the flat, so we decided to try it out on the children. I remember when we went to the Garbí near Sagunto for the first time – they complained a great deal about having to walk along the stony paths through all the trees. By the fifth time, it was much easier although Livia was still reluctant.

Here, things hadn’t changed, at least initially. For the first couple of hundred metres, Livia was enraged to the point of explosion that anyone would actually want to go for a walk anywhere, but once she had calmed down and saw where she was, she started to enjoy it. The nature there is resplendent, with a mix of woodland wildflowers and open field ones too. There were meadowsweet, St John’s wort, cornflower, mountain ash. fireweed, syringa, wild orchid, lupin, hollyhock, bee blossom, salvia, saxifrage, hawthorn, elm, beech, oak, cypress, and those are just the ones I could name.

We walked through the forested area, taking longer than usual, because Dainoris and Milda wanted to look at the flora. This was incredibly encouraging. Livia was starting to get in the mood as well. Then we came to the open part, which straddled the edge of a lake and some wide open pastures with cows grazing. Except one: standing menacingly in the meadow, staring at us like a coked-up night club bouncer looking for some action, was an angry-looking cow with an expression of world-weariness mixed with utter paranoia. She seemed the type of cow that would kick your car windows in and steal all your belongings while you and your family were sitting in there terrified. See if you can tell in the photo which one…

Yes, that’s her, the ruthless bovine colossus.

The children had been asking about doing some more activities, especially ones with meaning, which was a credit to their personalities. A week or two ago, there was a poster in the window of The Corner café advertising a Martial Arts course for kids. I proposed it to them and they were delighted. Every day they kept asking, “are we going to Ninja School today?”

So on Wednesday 23 July, we drove to the community hall in Ballinamore to begin their training. Initially, I told Livia she couldn’t go, because I didn’t think she would be able to pay attention and listen to the instructor. How wrong was I? Not only did she pay attention, she loved every minute of it. Dainoris came away tired but elated. However Milda was not so overjoyed – she decided it wasn’t for her and we respect her decision. She wants to do dance classes instead.

Ninja School - image blurred for obvious reasons

It started with some basic instructions like stand up, hands in the air, now by your sides. But it developed into running up and down, or hopping to the middle, or frog leaping. Livia followed every step and listened to the whole thing.

Then came the breakthrough we have all been waiting for: the instructor said they would be getting their white gowns the coming week and to earn a different colour to go on their belts, they have to do their homework, and this week their homework is to help their parents clean up.

Well.

The day after, Livia not only helped us tidy up, she did the whole thing herself. Since then, she has taken on an air of responsibility and has started putting importance on household maintenance. She still flares up, but she has started to demonstrate more independence and self-confidence.

Roly-Poly Hill, Ballinamore

After the Ninja School, we went outside to the playground and the children did some more running about. Where on Earth they get their energy from beats me. They intentionally get up at a time when adults slouch out of bed to get ready for work. They eat the bare minimum until an intervention from a parent, yet they charge around like they’d been given an athlete’s diet and a litre of coffee. This carries on all day until they have a little crash. This crash and resulting short nap allows them to go on until as late as possible, even if they’ve spent an hour charging around a hall.

I took a walk through Ballinamore’s public park. It is a happy place, and full of everyday life – the kids playing football with a couple of bags as goalposts; the old geezer out for a run; the mother on the phone while her children blow bubbles; a dad, his son and a friend cracking a hurling ball across the park, and my three rolling down the steep spectator banks on the far side of the field, screaming with laughter.

Here, also, I discovered one of the trees of my youth: the Lawson’s cypress, also known as the Oregon cedar, a tree so grand and tall, that it’s essentially permanent nighttime under its fronds. I loved those trees as they remind me of my childhood. They have these unique berries that look like sultanas but are as hard as rubber balls. It’s hard to come to terms with the rubbish you did as a child, but at least you can comfort yourself in some of the more pleasant memories.

Our horticultural hoard

There’s a garden centre about ten minutes after Carrick called Ardcarne, and it is a haven of horticultural happiness. On Thursday 24 July, we drove out there to see what we would like to put in the garden. Thinking we were just going to look, I forgot how insistent the children are, especially Dainoris. He looks at something in a shop and wants to buy it: whether it be a spare part for a lawnmower, a packet of dishwasher tablets, a milk churn, a set of oyster knives, a crystal lampshade, a 1993 Charlton Athletic mug, or some Norwegian flags, Dainoris will take the lot if his eyes train on them.

So in the end, we came out of there with enough plants to turn part of our garden into a mini jungle. All the many staff in there were ultra friendly and the café was a lesson in how to make sure people keep coming back. We had a good gluttonous cake session in there before we headed out to buy some plants. And this is the main issue – the garden wasn’t ready for any plants so I’d need to get back and start preparing the ground pretty quickly. We bought the basic garden tools and some compost, and the next day I dug out a space for many of the plants and shrubs we had bought. There would be a lower flower bed, and with the earth I had dug, there would be a mound to use as a windbreaker.

The children tried to help but generally they fulfilled the role of disturbers and tormentors: I can’t find my shoes! They’re in the shoe bin. Where are you going to put that plant? There. What’s its name? Colin. It winds me down to the point of giving up, but all that money we spent on the plants keeps me going. It will be ready by the end of July. However, Dainoris has shown a lot of interest in gardening, so I can only encourage it. He even made his own little rockery.

Coming up: August Bank Holidays in Ireland are full of events for everyone. The next is on 4 August. Looking forward to it!

EXTRA PHOTOS BELOW

Bóthar na Naomh, wild flowers

Bóthar na Naomh

Bóthar na Naomh

Carrick-On-Shannon

Mown.

The Rocky Road To Ireland, Part Three: The Week Before The Week After

 ITINERARY:

Monday 30 June 19:50: arrival in Dublin

Monday 30 June 20:30: take our hire car to Dublin City Centre and check in to our overnight accommodation

Tuesday 1 July morning: drive to Leitrim, stay at a local holiday home for a week while we prepare our new home

The rest of the week: make the place liveable

Tuesday 8 July: move in

We're here

We landed in Dublin bang on time at just before 8pm. The flight was incredibly uneventful, thankfully, and the children had a marvellous time just enjoying the fluffy clouds and talking to the lovely Irish lady in the same row as us. The doors to the plane opened to a fresh Irish Sea breeze and the soft light of a northern summer evening. We walked across the tarmac and into the airport terminal. The word terminal is actually a very good word for this building – it goes on for miles. And miles. And miles.

Reaching the luggage carousel, the bags were dancing round already. We gathered the array of belongings we brought, stacked them on three trolleys, and went through to the public area to locate the hire car office. I had booked an SUV for 4 weeks, but the guy at reception took one look at our luggage and said it would never fit in the one he’d reserved for us. So he went to the back and brought some other keys. He upgraded us to the largest monster he could find for no extra cost. I know there are other customer service motives behind all this but it certainly left an impression.

We had to continue our pilgrimage from plane to car via terminal, as he told us it was parked at the very end of the car rental zone, but I don’t think any of us minded because we had so far managed the impossible: we seemed to have extricated ourselves from Valencia with all the belongings we could carry, and got to the car that would take us to our next abode.

It was an almost brand new Volkswagen Tayron with enough boot space to hold the Champions League Final, and fit all our bags with a little to spare. It was still a tight squeeze, but we managed it. We had even brought the three child seats with us as it was cheaper than hiring them from any car rental company.

Not the place we stayed in, but a typical Dublin scene nonetheless

But it was late, so in anticipation of our late arrival, we had booked a night in Dublin to give us a good run the day after. Our accommodation was apparently a guest house by the River Liffey with views onto the embankment. There was still an hour or two of light, but it had turned overcast and by the time we had pulled into the car park near the guest house, it had started to rain. We left most of the bags in the car and pulled out a couple of pre-packed overnight bags and our laptops. This was the moment Livia chose to have a complete meltdown: entering the rain-soaked streets in her summer clothes was always going to be risky, but that was just a little too much for her and she went into a full public hysterical diatribe that caused even passengers on passing buses to glance down to see what the issue was.

The map on my phone was telling us we were outside the guest house, but all I could see was a row of shuttered shops, except for a particularly dingy-looking sandwich shop, and a rather dodgy bus stop in front. I looked at the doors as we passed and there was nothing that resembled the entrance to a guest house. I looked at the app and checked the messages the owner sent me the day before, which said the door shared space with a tea and sandwich takeaway shop. Oh yes, we saw that…

The windowless door required a code to enter, which was in another email. This was now looking like a rather bad choice, but it was half the price of the place we stayed in last time. We lugged our stuff inside, not forgetting the appalling complaints still being emitted from Livia, and I looked in yet another email to locate our room. It was number 11 on the first floor. We got to the door of number 11 where we heard cries from a baby inside.

Using a code to open the room door that was sent in yet another email, I found an entire family of five, the mother feeding a baby, the father folding a packet of biscuits into an overnight bag, and two other young kids munching on them.

“I think we’re supposed to be here,” I said to him.

“Yes, we arrived here only an hour ago to find someone else.”

I suddenly got a huge sense of foreboding. We hadn’t come all this way to have our belongings stolen by one of the previous occupants who knew the code. The guy said he and his family were only going to be there another half hour as they were leaving. This made no sense to me, so of course I smelt a very stinky rat. The guy called the owner for us, to enquire about the current uncomfortable situation. He put me on speaker and told me he was going to send us another email and give us a room further up.

We had a little chat with the family and headed up to find our room. We wondered what we would find up there – a lonely cat lover with a bunch of felines spread out on each bed? A French Revolution reenactment group practising for a beheading in the morning? A bunch of nuns in their briefs having a pillow fight? A Swiss on an Alphorn and an Australian on a didgeridoo having a parp-off? The opening scenes of Les Misérables being performed by the employees of Hooters? Two oiled-up Turkish wrestlers grappling with each other? Or the worst of all, a couple of teenagers ignoring each other as they stare at their own phones? As it was, the room was empty, and we opened the window to let in some air before we went straight out for food. Bonny Bee thought we shouldn’t leave our laptops in the room, and I agreed.

On the way to Leitrim

Walking a few hundred metres with some uppity hungry children at 10 in the evening (it would have been 11 for us), we stumbled upon a famous burger joint. To desecrate my chain outlet principles twice in a day would probably drive me to the edge of existential doubt. But next door was a fifties-style diner, which had a more appealing menu and people who brought you your food. The adjacent place could learn something about that… We tucked in to some tremendous fare – I’m not a big fan of vertical food, but they made it look worth eating. And the chips were the best I’d eaten since I was last in Belgium.

We were all tired and ratty, so we just ate up and left. It wasn’t the cheapest fast food dinner we’d had, but at least we could sleep now. When we arrived back at Iniquity Towers, everything was still there. We used the communal bathroom to give ourselves a decent wash and went straight to sleep.

The morning revealed a moderately humdrum sky and a fair amount of rain was forecast. In all truth, there wasn’t that much in the end, but I once spoke to the makers of a weather app and they told me they always went with the worst-case scenario, so people were pleasantly surprised rather than furious because they had to cancel their barbecue.

We removed the car from its overnight stay in a nearby car park and made the choice to drive to Longford on the way. We knew a splendid little café called Ménara tucked down a side street in the city with a range of imaginative sandwiches and cakes. The kitchen is the size of a telephone box, but what comes out of it is remarkable.

We then took a short drive to Dromod, to the pub run by the auctioneer who sold our house to us. He had the keys to our house and he told us we could come past and pick them up. His pub is a regional landmark; a place where things happen. And he is a mover and a shaker – a person many of us would follow into battle. He appeared at our car window with an envelope and a chunky bulk of metal, wishing us a very happy time at our new installation. He invited us in for a cup of tea and drinks, and then we were on our way.

We had booked a week in a bungalow run by a holiday homes agent about 15 minutes north of our new place, with a garden and a proper kitchen; a kind of last week with all the modern conveniences before we moved into our rickety old caravan next to our new house. I got a few provisions from the local supermarket and we drove to the bungalow. It had a lovely driveway but the car was only a few centimetres narrower than the brick gateposts.

The house and garden we stayed at for our first week

Aside from that, the house was spacious and somehow snug at the same time. There were two bathrooms, a luxury we were about to lose for the time being, and a well-manicured lawn. The TV would also be something they’d be losing for a while, so we weren’t going to push it if they wanted to watch a few episodes of Peppa Pig or Vida the Vet.

We spent the week getting to know the area and introducing ourselves to a number of locals, such as the girls in the coffee shop, the staff of the butcher shop, and the lady at the bits and bobs shop.

A local traffic signal in Cloone

We also got to know the best place to get what: we went to McHugh’s Furniture in Cloone to look at beds, sofas and wardrobes, but they were new and we weren’t going to be spending a lot of money on something that could be temporary. Jordan’s Furniture in Ballinamore was a far cheaper option – most of the stuff in there is from either salvage or house sales.

Then there’s Carrick-On-Shannon, a lively town of just a few thousand inhabitants that punches well above its weight: with a vast choice of pubs and restaurants, this place is known as Ireland’s stag- & hen-night capital.

Longford was also a place we would be frequenting – not the prettiest or the safest city in Ireland, but a real hotbed of activity. Both places have a refreshing number of international food and drink shops, and I introduced the children to some sausages from Poland: kabanos to nibble on, kielbasa for the frying pan; both greatly appreciated.

Great pancakes at this place

We collected a few items we would need to move into the static caravan the following Tuesday, such as bed linen, kitchen equipment, cutlery, plates and bowls, an air mattress, some cleaning fluids, and a couple of extension leads. We also ordered a fridge, a washing machine, a mini induction cooker, and an electric fryer with a lid. The larger things were to be delivered the following week, which would be a great start to our residence.

In the meantime, we took a few trips to some of the local pubs and cafés. Considering this is the most sparsely populated part of the country, there is a surprising amount to do, and the place is often teeming with people. I freely admit we’re not in a metropolis, we’re not even in something equal to a suburb of a small country town, but that was the reason for moving: we needed a gentler pace of life. In Valencia, things never stopped – it was a relentless bombardment of obligations, hindrances, and requests that gave us so little time to enjoy life, and when we did have the time, we were too tired. Paradoxically, because of all the venues and events around us, we suffered from extreme choice paralysis.

A trip to the Druid's Altar

Being here in this weathered, undulating landscape, with its bulbous hills and mountains, its lush, fecund valleys and water-speckled lowlands, the sunlight playing an equal part to the clouds, it felt like the perfect place to relieve ourselves of the unrelenting stresses of the three preceding years. The people we had met – those at the cafés, bars, shops and parks, had made it much easier to come down off the relocate to this much less eventful place. At this stage, it was a novelty, but like a lot of these things, I can imagine it becoming a bane if we don’t embrace life here fully.

The Druid's Altar

They say if you show up to a place in fear and dread with no intention of participating in local life, you will hate it. If you come with an open mind ready to integrate and adapt, you will thrive. This is our intention here, as it always has been wherever we go: as Irish people are so kind-hearted, decent, sociable and witty, it just might be a little easier to succeed.

Pub and Funeral Director: ideal for wakes

One of the many magical trees

In the next part, we will describe our first impressions and experiences of moving in to our new dwelling.