Dia is Mhuire dióbh go léir a cairde and welcome to my Report.
I don’t watch matches, but I would ask the result when it would be over. Well when I put the vital question on Sunday evening, I got a very sharp retort, “Don’t Go there”, so I won’t. Our weather still plays games with us. Bright sunshine to look out at but windy and cold when you venture. But at least the drop of rain is keeping things green and fresh and good to look out at.
And that, coupled with the sight of all the little fledglings feeding on the peanuts a few feet from my window is enough to brighten up any sagging spirits. Little mothers coming with their droves of youngsters that they hatched into the world against a backdrop of dwindling places to call home and a wet Spring. The young robins are hard to identify because their distinctive red breasts haven’t still developed and won’t for another couple of months, but you can still spot them. For one thing they don’t feed from the food basket, but do a great job in picking up the bits that others let drop. I’m rather disappointed this season at the non-appearance on the lovely red-headed Gold Finches at the feeding place. I spotted one in the garden a few days ago but none at the peanuts. I can’t explain why. Their pickings in the wild get more abundant all the time ,with many of the weeds such as nettles and docks growing ripe and bursting out with the seeds that our feathered friends love.
The soft showery days are just right thing for wild mushrooms . For those who have access to open spaces, it’s a good time to keep an eye out for those precious morsels ,that we used to treasure in our young days, long before they were grown commercially and appear in our shops in abundance these days. But they will never taste as good as the wild ones that we so cherished. First of all because they were scarce, even elfish and seasonal. For some unknown reason, back then yielded bumper crops and as there was no way of keeping them fresh some enterprising housewives tried their hand at making ketchup and other preserves of the surplus. But our beloved housekeeper, Pete, had none of those culinary arts, I don’t know how successful those attempts were. For our part, we’d shake a little salt into one and put it on the hot range to cook, keeping an eagle eye on it, so that it would not be devoured by somebody else. If the supply allowed we’d boil some in a saucepan with milk and have it with the day’s freshly baked bread. Dip the bread in the warm juicy liquid all dark and brown and rich from the juice of the mushroom. It made a lovely supper. We guarded our find with the ultimate care. Each of us cooking our own ,while others returned to the fields to search for more. Early morning and late evenings were the best times to carry out the search. After the crows went to bed and before they got up. The search knew no boundaries. It was no notice to find the place ‘picked’ when you arrived, beaten to the line by some who had no land of their own, or perhaps a greater hunger for wild mushrooms than you. I love buying mushrooms to this day. Don’t always get round to using them all and they will never taste as good, but the very thought of they being in such short supply when I was young, compensates in some small way for that longing of old.
Pete. Somebody asked me lately about the Pete who comes into my comments now and then. Pete was a bachelor who lived with his brother Jack, in a Council Cottage at the end of our land. The brothers were opposites and never got on. Pete worked in the mines in Wales for a number of years where he got injured and always used a stick and walked with a limp. He came home and moved in with Jack, which did not go down well. I was very young and I have few details of what went on. Pete was not a man for farm work. but was very good around the house. I think he helped out in our place before our mother died, but after she died he was with us almost constantly. He would cook and bake and wash and went about his work with the ‘dash-cloth’ thrown over his shoulder and always seemed to be in good humour. He never milked a cow or worked on the land. There was much to be done with seven children, two working men, my Father and Pete himself, in the days long before mod-cons. He did the baking and the washing and all. I can still recall the summer days when he would be washing the blankets and quilts after the winter. The big bath of suds outside the door and he had us dancing on them in our bare feet to get them clean. Sometimes my father would rush in before the others at dinner time and make a cake and put it in the oven for Pete to mind. Having quiet a thirst, my dad wouldn’t pay Pete if times were very busy, because with his pockets lined he would make for the pubs in town and maybe not come back till the money ran out. He loved us all and took great care of us when the Da took off on a bender. He put us young ones to bed, made us say our players, saw to our clothes for school and put a stitch on anything that needed mending or a button sewn on. At home I doubt if himself and his brother ever sat by the fire together. Pete occupied the upstairs room in the half-lofted cottage and Jack seemed to have the downstairs to himself. Again a man with a thirst and there were many altercations when they were both steamed.
He still came to help occasionally when our Step-mother came ,and she enjoyed his many stories and ways . We were all grown up when Pete passed away. He was lovingly care for to the end by his cousins who came to occupy the cottage after the death of his brother. This caring, uneducated, honest, gentle man, left an indelible mark on each one of us which never faded. God rest the soul of lovely Pete Murphy.
Once again all roads lead to Carriginma this Sunday evening for the return visit of Declan Nerney. He was great the last time and will be great again. Don’t miss him.
There was a fine entry for the Pony Young Riders Show which was held at the Green Glens at the weekend. Next up will be the Big Horse Show. Starting on Friday, August 3rd.
I want to wish D. C. O’Sullivan many years of happy retirement following 41 years brilliant service as school bus driver. A lovely presentation was made to him at a wonderful party which was held in his honour at The Aubane Social Centre last week. He and I shared many tales of the hair-raising experiences that we had during our school-bus driving years, long before Health and Safety was even thought of. But TG neither one of us had any serious accidents to report.
A very historic gathering will be held in Cullen this Thursday evening. July 25th the Feast Day of their local Saint St.Laitiarnian. In former years we all went to Cullen that day and paid a visit to their Holy Well and joined the crowds for the social events that followed. Now after a lapse of some years the ritual is being revived . And on This Thursday July 25th Mass will be held in Cullen Church at 7.30 followed by a display of all their musical talent and refreshments will be served. Don’t miss this lovely occasion. Please support it well.
Diocesan Pilgrimmage to Knock Shrine Saturday, August 24. Bus €30.
Here are the results of this weeks lotto draw which was held on Sunday night. Numbers drawn were 8,10,14,17 and The Jackpot was not won. €100 went to Kevin, & Liam. c/o P.J. Creedon. €50 sellers prize went to P.J.Creedon, €50 went to Mary O ‘Connor c/o Mgt Bourke, €20 each to Tracy and Pat c/o Tom Carroll. Scruffy & Denis c/o Denny Lane, Harley O’Keeffe, Cullen. Oisin McCarthy, c/o Paula O’Shea, Liam Healy, c/o Paula O’Shea, The 3 Murphy’s c/o Rita O’Reilly. Mill Workers c/o O’Regan’s Mills, Donie Ring, c/o P.J. Creedon.
Jackpot for next week €3,000, the draw on July 28th.
Sinn a bfuil a cáirde, Slán is beannacht Dé libh go léir.
