Excerpt of review titled Lady Gregory’s Note-book An entertaining volume.
“The greatest wonder I ever saw was one time near Kinvara at a funeral. There came a car along the road and a lady on it having a plaid cloak, as was the fashion, and a big hat, and she kept her head down and never looked at the funeral at all. I wondered at her when I saw that, and I said to my brother it was a strange thing a lady to be coming past a funeral and not to look on at it at all. And who was on the car but O’Gorman Mahon, escaping from the Government, and dressed up as a lady! He drove to Father Arthur’s house in Kinvara and there was a boat waiting, and a cousin of my own in it, to bring him out to a ship and so he made his escape”.
Lady Gregory claims the right to praise “The Kiltartan History Book,” because as she says, “there is not in it one word of my own.” But she has contrived all the same to impart a share of her sly humour into almost every page.
Philippe de Champaigne (1602–1674) Still-Life with a Skull Date circa 1671 Tessé Museum Wikipedia.org
AN tOSTAN Marbh
Story: Emer O’Donnell
Script Consultants: Dan Reel
Michael Doheny
Donal C. Hanlon
Emer O’Donnell
Cast:
Voice Over: Tiernan Boland
Male 1: Donal C. Hanlon
Male 2: Dawid Ciesielski
Woman: Emer O’Donnell
Night Porter: Dan Reel
Security Guard 1: Michael Doheny
Security Guard 2: Colm Dunne
Newsreader: Leo Lynch
KINVARA HARBOUR
The harbour at Kinvara embraces a small inlet of Galway Bay, containing its waters along the fringe of the village. When you round the bend at Seamount College it presents itself, postcard perfect. We used to swim there, even had competitions – the most notable being the Green Island swim – a race from the pier to the small patch of green outside the Doctor’s surgery (beside Seamount) and back again. A trophy for the winner and a sense of pride for all else who actually completed it!
Kinvara Harbour has history – aspects of which can be found among Hansard Papers, Commons Sittings question and answer sessions. Kinvara Harbour page on widgetworld3 contains excerpts from these papers:
PIERS AND HARBOURS (IRELAND)— KINVARRA HARBOUR.
HC Deb 24 November 1882 vol 275 cc15-6
AN COISTE BODHAR
Story: Script Emer O’Donnell
Script Consultants: James O’Malley
Michael Doheny
Donal C. Hanlon
Emer O’Donnell
Cast:
Barman: James O’Malley
Niall: Michael Doheny
Eamon: Ray McEnany
Man: Donal C. Hanlon
Woman: Emer O’Donnell
Production: Dawid Ciesielski
Recorded at Gort Media Centre Studios – thanks to Sinead, Peadar, Tom, Heather, Gerry and Kevin!
It was one night,” he says, “after walking back from Kinvara and down
by the wood beyond I felt one coming beside me, and I could feel the
horse he was riding on and the way he lifted his legs, but they do not
make a sound like the hoofs of a horse. So I stopped and turned around
and said, very loud, ‘Be off!’ and he went and never troubled me after.
The Celtic Twilight (1902)
W. B. Yeats
Venus of Lausselhttps://widgetworld3.wordpress.com
If you could be a “fly on the wall” anywhere and at any time in history, where and when would you choose?
I would like to watch the creation of the ‘Venus of Laussel’. Also known as “Femme a la corne” this is a female image carved into the limestone entrance of a rockshelter in Marquay, Dordogne, southwestern France. It was blasted from its place decades ago and is now in the Musee d’Aquitaine, Bordeaux. The bas relief is about one and a half feet high and is roughly 25,000 years old.
The image shows a woman with her left hand is over her stomach, and her right holding a ‘horn’. The ‘horn’ (for want of a better description) has 13 notches carved in it. A ‘Y’ is carved on her thigh. The woman was coloured with red ochre.
A cache of stone tools were excavated at the base of this image while other bas-reliefs were found inside the shelter.
I have sooo many questions regarding this cave, these images, these tools. Oh to be a fly on the wall!!
Mixing console, 16 channels. Rodrigo César Wikipedia.orghttp://soundquakeradio.wordpress.com/
Tune in to Soundquake in the Square – livestream radio from Gort, Co. Galway today 19th July, 2013 – 11am to 3 pm (GMT).
As a gold medal winner in our local egg and spoon race sometime during the last millennium (aged 6) I feel I have the experience and authority to comment on sports. I think many have lost their shine. Once upon a time the spirit of competition included good sportsmanship, fair play, dignity, nobility, generosity, integrity, teamwork, co-operation, compromise. These attributes were displayed in victory and in defeat.
This does not seem to be the case anymore. In fact, when a sportsperson displays any or all of the above on the field, or in sporting competitions, he/she makes headlines. It is a sad indication of how little we expect and how much lower our standards have become. I’m going back to my egg and spoon.
Starting today – The Nail Files. https://widgetworld3.wordpress.com/podcasts/
The Nail Files is a history, a user’s guide and an essential resource for children.
It was compiled by Matilda McBain under the direction of Eloise Spengler, Chief of Operations of the Nail File Organisation. The Files contain juicy details of things adults did wrong when they were young. Their purpose is to remind them that everyone makes mistakes. The objective is to lessen punishment for children if/when they accidentally do something wrong. Accidentally is the operative word and that is the reason the Files are multifunctional. They include strict instructions on how the files should be used; offer tips on the upkeep and maintenance of parents or whoever is in charge and share ideas on when and how to get adults to talk about their misbegotten childhoods.
The Nail Files was written for my children and have been enjoyed by my friends their children and early teens.
Photo:Bjørn Christian Tørrissen https://widgetworld3.wordpress.com/podcasts/
It’s Tuesday. The second blue sky of the week, first to carry winter’s bite. Grass has that damp wilted look that echoes cold. Its edges are withered. The ivy on the telegraph pole has gone spindly and cobwebs glisten left, right and centre. You’d swear we had a spider invasion but it’s only the cold making them shine. Like lace they are, and fine lace at that.
‘Silver sparkled circles shine
When morning casts her dew
Golden glints on every line
As sunshine scatters through
Wakey, wakey little one
No time to stay abed
Stretch your legs and fix your web
Your children must be fed.’
Who wrote that? Was it a man or a woman? I think it was a man. Could have been a woman with a mannish name. ‘Twas one of those names you could give a man or woman. Was it Francis? Maybe it was Leslie. Was it Leslie I wonder? Feck. I can’t remember. Now I’ll spend the whole day thinking about it and it won’t come to me ’til three o’clock tomorrow morning. What’s the bet? And I won’t get a wink of sleep ’til that happens. Photo:Muhammad Mahdi KarimI’m a right egit, myself and my spider poems. Haven’t spiders always been around, no more than myself? Webs and wrinkles. The old reliables and I sporting both side by side. I have enough on me to cover the hide of an elephant. Dementia too, that’s what the neighbours will think if they hear me talking to myself, and worse still, reciting poetry I must have learnt sixty years ago. Thank God for thick walls, otherwise I’d be in a home for the bewildered.
Mind you, that was a catchy poem though I was always convinced, man or woman, ‘twas written by someone who liked to persecute small children. Either that or he hated them outright. ‘Silver sparkled circles shine.’ Jesus! What child could say that? And who in their right mind would ask them to? I must have been the best part of a week trying to get my mouth around it when we had to learn it in school. And poor Bridie Murray, herself and her lisp. She had half the class drowned by the time she got to the end of the first verse, and herself damn near drowned by the end of the second, God bless the mark. But no one teased her for it. Who would dare? She was a foot and a half taller than all the rest of us and had four strapping brothers that were nothing short of giants. ‘Sparkled silver circles’ my backside. I can’t get it right even now.
The Burren and Beyond 