About Me

My photo
Typical Piscean, dreamer, story teller in the tradition of my country, I love to write. I'm not sure that I'm any good at it, but getting the words down has its reward.

12 January 2017

The start of another year...

 
 
It was a great Christmas, everyone was in total agreement.  We sat around the table taking our ease, chatting and laughing, opening crackers in a desultory manner.  The turkey cooked to perfection and all those I love present.
 
The cat, in a state of shock, was even allowed to sit in front of the fire.  Principally because since we got an inset stove I'm not afraid of her usual trick of trying to see what's up the chimney when the flames go up.  This new feature in our family room has also removed my long held fear of a spark on the carpet setting the whole place alight. 
 
Believe you me, up at this height when the gales blow, it is a distinct possibility.  Since my childhood I can remember occasions when my Mother put out the fire on gale force nights, as she called them, and we felt the cold chill of a winter's night, rather risk a downdraught and it's consequences.  The view is glorious...but as with anything you pay a price.
 
The general topic of conversation, however, on New Year's Eve was, on occasion, rather grim.  Neighbours dropped in, an old friend who has moved back to Ireland arrived unexpectedly by very welcome nonetheless, and the right kind of relative, those you know make such an event were with us during the day. 
 
The conversation ranged from changes in the place in the almost nine years since Mum passed away, to how much youngest daughter is enjoying her new job.  After three years of seeking work this was truly a gift from Santa, and the smile on her face as she hurries off to work is definitely my best present.
 
Chief topic of chat was the future.  Where will things go from here on a global and national basis.  We're Irish.  We love talking politics.  We love trying to see into the future...we're all convinced we're mystic minded, but with the way the world stage is playing out, this year there were no definitive "we will..." this year; "If God spares us we might..." was more the norm. Even during the Recession when everything went totally pear shaped, we Irish kept the bright side shining as best we could, but this year...well we'll cross everything, pray to God and steer clear of the rocks...and hope that things won't be too bad.
 
The cat, facing either her 14th, 16th or possibly 15th year has no such worries.  OH will continue to feed her as if she was suffering from malnutrition.  The rats will continue to sit waiting for her now corpulent form to catch up with them.  I think they misjudge the hussy.  One found to his cost last night that Madam may be making up for the skinny years with a girth like a beanbag, but she can still cut it with the best.
 
On the lane two houses have been sold.  One of the neighbours was a childhood friend and will be very much missed, the other, well let's just say that the new people are truly friendly and we look forward to seeing their smiling faces for a long time to come.
 
Mary Mulgrave* bought herself a new car.  The other one was 25 years old.  No scrappage deal could tempt her to get rid of Horatio as she called her car.  She's already a liability on the road.  Things go beep she tells us.  It's one of "them new fangled gewgydags" and she's been back to the sales man twice to order them taken out.  As he explained to her, they keep the car running.  Well, her son did warn her that she should have bought second hand.  There's a dent on the front wing.  That came about because the "whatjacallit" beeped [seat belt alarm to you] and the button she thought was a demister started telling her where to drive..."sure didn't she know the roads better than that gobbledeygook thingummy" she told us.
 
A very Happy New Year to one and all...I'm off to find a lane Mary can't drive on, and where there is shelter from the gales and Mozart playing in my ears so I can't hear anymore world news!
 
 
 * Not her real name


2 comments:

Roses, Lace and Brocante said...

Happy New Year!
I've just found your blog via Pondside.
I loved this post and I felt like I was reading a letter from an old friend - praise indeed!
I'm half Irish, thanks to my dear father who was a Limerick man and came to New Zealand with his family a long, long time ago at age eleven.

We visited Ireland in 2015 and did a seven day Trafalgar tour.
From the time I stepped off the plane I felt welcome, it was like I had arrived home!
Our tour director was from Limerick and told everyone on the bus that there was a Limerick lass on board too! My heart swelled and I wished my father was still alive and part of this journey with me.

I love the story telling and I've enjoyed hearing bout your Christmas and New Year!
Your cat and Mary Mulgrave are both great personalities and hope you elaborate in future posts and tell us more about their hilarious adventures!

I'e joined your merry band of followers and will be back soon.

Take care and have fun in 2017!

Shane

Frances said...

Ahh Irish Eyes, I am a bit tardy in reading this post, but wanted to wait for an afternoon when I could sip some tea (orange spice, part of tea chest sampler a cousin sent me for Christmas) and savor your writing.

It's a gem that you've given us this time. I would see everyone around the table, the joy on your daughter's face as the heads out to work, the sudden hunting motion of Madame P, and more. I am so glad that your new heater is all that you hoped it would be. Your memories of how your Mom handled gale winds did make me shiver a bit in spite of the hot tea.

Mary Mulgrave might benefit by having some courageous person accompany her for a few drives (maybe with MM in the passenger seat) so that she could get more familiar with all the doodads in new auto. But where would be the story in that? I'll wager you could find one if you were said courageous person. You know I am joking...your geographic strategy sounds much wiser.

Lots of love to you and yours...I'm already looking forward to your next post. xo