North Side of Howth

In our part of the world the sun is very important, probably because we don't see too much of it, and people pay particular attention as to where they site a house. Will we get sunshine in the living-rooms during the day? In the case of Howth the north side is a lot less desirable, and less expensive, than the south side, which gets whatever sun there is all day.

Yesterday, however, since our investment was just a few hours of our day, we decided to visit the north side. There wasn't a lot of sun, but it wasn't raining either. We took our packed lunch, and drove past the marina, and up the little road, by the King Sitric restaurant, so narrow and obscure you wouldn't expect anything of it. It climbs, hugging the headland on its right, with mostly old cottages on the left, perched above the sea. One has an inconspicuous plaque, noting that J.B.Yeats lived there between 1880 and 1883. I think he had already fallen in love with Maud Gonne, who seems to have spent her life refusing to marry him. After driving for five or so minutes the road ends in an informal public car park.



We took our collapsible chairs, and our picnic lunch, and climbed up the path, walking for perhaps five or so minutes, until we saw a little patch on the left where we could perch. There was still a lot to climb, but not for us. We were already high, looking down on the seabirds which seemed to have taken over a large rocky headland, a few hundred feet below us. Ireland's Eye was out to sea on our left, where we could also look at the activity in Howth Harbour. Occasionally, we would see a small fishing-boat returning with its catch, surrounded by seabirds hoping for a free lunch. The sun came out, and we lazed in the heat, watching the planes taking off from Dublin airport.

Doha Round

It is disappointing that the trade negotiations appear to have foundered. I am afraid I don't know as much as I would like about the issues, but intend correcting that: there is a body of information available on Wikipedia.
I did get one clue last evening watching RTE news. A young man, a principal in a financial services company, was deploring the breakdown, because his firm would not be able to export as much as they would otherwise, and this would mean they could not employ as many people, and "these are all high-paying jobs I am talking about." A major problem is that in exchange for allowing these imports, vulnerable countries want protection for their farmers.
Europe and America insist on protecting their own heavily subsidised farmers, while the industrialised farming industry wants to flood the world with their production. There is little chance of concessions there from a Republican president in an election year, since the farm belt is solidly Republican, and here in Ireland farming concerns helped defeat the Lisbon Treaty referendum.
Long-term I wonder whether the answer is to make a distinction, in Europe and America, and probably elsewhere too, between small farmers and large commercial enterprises. Support the small, family farmer economically, but take away the fincial subsidies which make large enterprises obscenely rich.

Political America

I have a bunch of thoughts going around in my head, revolving around Senators McCain and Obama.
First of all, I realise that every jurisdiction has different constituencies, but when it comes to America, you are really talking about different countries, and different peoples. I am not talking about race, but the way people think, and what is important to them. People west of the Mississippi do no think in the same way as people east of it, and those in the Rust Belt think differently from everybody else. I do not think that many Americans, no matter where they live, think a great deal about what is happening anywhere else in the world.
Senator Obama has, I think at least in his own opinion, thought that he has done his campaign a great deal of good by all of the enthusiasm and visibility his world tour has generated, although I think the fact that he turned down meeting the wounded servicemen in Germany may be more damaging than he yet realises.
Senator McCain spent part of last week campaigning in Ohio, a state he has to win if, as a Republican, he is to become president. Senator Obama won the Democratic nomination by beatig Senator Cinton in states which traditionally vote Republican. The fact that both senators endorsed his candidacy was not enough for him to carry the Democratic state of Massachusetts.
Where would you be spending your time if you were Senator Obama?

Who's On First?

Senator McCain loyally supports the president's conservative foreign policy: the President apparently goes back on his conservative foreign policy, and Senator Obama tries to get all of the television big wheels to focus on what he is doing overseas. I haven't caught up with what Senator McCain thinks of all this. I'll tell you what I think.
Everyone in America should be running out in the street shouting, Hurray for George Bush. I think he's done just about the most impressive about-face that I can remember. He's going to talk to the Iranians, and my prayers are answered. Maybe after all Israel is not going to involve the world in some kind of atomic Armageddon before the next president is inaugurated.
Let's hear it for George Bush fellas!

The Days of Yore

Nothing today I'm afraid. I must catch up on my emails. You can't expect to get unless you give.
How lucky I used be. Secretaries to handle the drudgery, and others to do other things. But really, I would not change a thing.
Now, I may not be able to do much, but I can be selective. I do not have to work on other's priorities. It may not be much, but its mine.

Awakening, Rumbling

I feel a great sense of change, and it starts with Christianity and Islam.
Christianity seems to be on its knees, just waiting for the last blows of materialism to leave it prostrate, but that has happened before. I see much of Islam insisting on secular life dominated by religious values. Then I see Turkey, Egypt, and Pakistan, trying to introduce some balance between religion and secular life. Young women in Turkey insist on the right to cover their faces in public, while young women in Iran assert the right to dress as they like. In Africa, which was despoiled so badly, that the backlash allowed unprincipled men to rape their fiefdoms,we see progress by Africans in stopping the abuses in Zimbabwe. Perhaps the most encouraging of all is Pope Benedict's acknowledgment of sin in the terrible acts of sexual abuse committed by ministers of God.
One more sign, is America's decision to sit down in Switzerland with the Iranian government, in order to discuss, ostensibly, Iran's nuclear programme. It is, in my opinion, an enormously important event. The world has gradualy, over the period since the last world war, separated into two entities, America and the rest. There has been a gradual growth in America of a feeling of invincibility behind its nuclear shield, and its wealth. No part of the world can any longer claim separation, because young people have been able to make their dreams and aspirations known to everyone. Americans have to start realising that they need to get to know how other people think, how they live, and that we are all brothers and sisters.

June 21 Teaser

I hadn't planned on giving the answer, because I saw no evidence that anyone had read it, but at least one kind soul did read it.

The answer is, the Roman Republic, which lasted almost five hundred years. The missing words were 'in horses'.

Last of Kerry

Perhaps not the very last, but certainly there is nothing on the horizon.
On that 1960 visit we drove out of Kenmare one day to drive round the Ring of Kerry, one of the nicest drives that I can remember, and very soon we saw a young woman walking by the side of the road. We offered her a lift and she began to talk,of her young husband, and her baby. She was poor, but she was happy, blissfully unaware of anything beyond her immediate understanding.
Later that morning we had to stop in Cahersiveen for petrol. I had never seen a gravity feed pump before: you have to pump up petrol a gallon at a time, from the storage tank, just as you would water from a well. An elderly man came out to serve us, and I explained we wanted the tank filled. He smiled at us, but uttered not a word. Then I saw a young man coming towards us, and he asked 'Can I help you?'
'Yes, we want the tank filled.'
'My father has no English, I'll take care of you.'
Then I understood. We were in part of the Gaeltacht, one of the few scattered areas where Gaelic is the everyday language.
Our last encounter was also in Cahersiveen. We went into a little shop to buy chocolate, not knowing what we might expect.
'You're from America, which part?'
'We live in Queens.'
'I lived in the Bronx for thirty years.'

Portmarnock Traffic

I decided to walk down to Portmarnock yesterday morning, although it was raining, to post a letter. As it happened, the rain petered out shortly after I left. As I turned off of Station Road, at the roundabout, and into the village road, I saw the traffic going into Portmarnock was stopped, apparently as far as the filling station, while there was no traffic coming from Portmarnock. There was no activity, nobody was sounding their horns, nor was anyone agitatedly trying to see what was going on. As I approached the filling station I saw some ducks on the sidewalk in front of me, and when I actually reached the station I saw that the same group of female ducks about which I spoke some time ago, perhaps 150, were crossing over to the filling station. They were coming out of the field, through a break in the wall, walking in single file, and were completely oblivious to the traffic, which seemed quite content to wait.
I went on my way, the traffic began to pass regularly I posted my letter, and started back home. After a while I noticed that the traffic had stalled again. When I approached the filling station, I found that there had been a change: the ducks had now reversed themselves and were walking back across the road.

Portmarnock

More of Kingdom of Kerry

I looked at Maura: she looked at me, and said:
"Mikey wants to know, do you like Kerry?"
I said, "Yes, I do like Kerry", and Mikey looked at Maura, who said,
"Mikey, Des says, Yes, he does like Kerry."
Mikey might as well have been speaking Gaelic, and I might have been speaking German, so Maura had to act as translator as long as we were there.
It reminds me of another time we were driving to Kerry, when we were just leaving Limerick, and had to stop for petrol, a time remote enough, that they came out to put the petrol in the car. The man was middle-aged, and also, characteristic of another age, interested in speaking to strangers. He chatted, and I responded.
When I got into the car, Maura asked, "What were you talking about. You were having such a lively conversation?"
"I have no idea."

The Kingdom of Kerry

The first time I visited Kerry was in 1960, Maura's and my first visit to Ireland since we had sailed out of Cork Harbout, at a few months' interval, in 1956. We rented a Morris Minor, which took us everywhere. One of our first trips was to Kerry.
Our first stop in Kerry was at the International Hotel,in Killarney, and from there we drove to Kenmare, and then across the Kenmare River, and up the road through Coolacapogh, where Katie was brought up, climbing all the way up to the Esk. We were on our way to visit Michael O'Sullivan, Maura's uncle, whose wife was wintering in Dublin, although we were rather vague as to how we would get there. Ultimately, Maura insisted I stop and ask for directions, which I am reluctant to do.
"You must ask for Mikey Mike Dan."
I saw a couple of elderly men and stopped. "I'm looking for Michael O'Sullivan's farm,can you help me?" Blank stares.
"He means Mikey Mike Dan!"
"Oh, Mikey Mike Dan: you want the Esk. Just keep on until you're almost in Cork. Take the last left before the tunnel."
" Thanks."
"You're more than welcome."
Mikey welcomed us as if it was the most natural thing in the world for visitors from America to drop in for a chat, and then he turned to ask me a question:
(more tomorrow)

The Irish Weather

"Shall I start the bar-b-cue?"
"Yes, I think you might."
We have steak for dinner on Saturday, normally about 4:00 in the afternoon, and we always bar-b-cue them, on our terrace, no matter what the weather is doing. There was heavy rain yesterday morning, although it had improved during the day. I heat the bar-b-cue for about ten minutes, and as I was going about my routine I thought that perhaps we might eat outside.
"Shall we eat on the terrace?"
"Do you think we can?"
Every decision about the outdoors tends to be marginal in Ireland.
"I think so."
"Well, then let's"
I was nervous about my suggestion, thinking it was turning colder. The steaks were cooked to perfection, which was reassuring, since I have been having trouble with my Weber gas unit. We had a lovely meal, and then sat chatting for quite a long time, enjoying the late afternoon sun.
The weather in Ireland is largely, I suggest, a state of mind: you can either make the best of it, or you can buckle under to its vagaries. I find the whole thing quite exciting. In St. Petersburg, Florida, the newspaper is free, if the sun did not shine the previous day. I have heard at least one resident say "Dash! Another sunny day".
By the way. It rained all evening, as we watched T.V.

A Little Outing

Yesterday Maura said "Its a nice day, why don't we drive over to Nicky's Plaice, and I'll get some scallops for you. I'll pack a lunch and we can eat up at the lookout on Howth Head." "Sounds good." So off we went.
We had almost reached Howth, about half-an-hour later, when Maura asked "Shall we eat first, or shop for the scallops?" Howth is unique, in this respect, that when you reach Sutton, the only connection of this rocky headland to the mainland, you can drive straight up the cliffs overlooking Dublin Bay, or turn left for a mile or so to the pier. We decided to shop first, which was lucky, because Nicky closes at 1:00 p.m. on Mondays.
Howth village, is essentially a fishing-port, although there is a marina as well, and all along the pier, on the left-hand side, there is a succession of fishmongers, while the fishing boats are moored on the right. Nicky's is our choice, and we bought mussels, plaice for Maura, scallops for me, and crab, for the crabcakes I look forward to for dinner on Sundays.
We drove along by the Marina, where Angus Og probably waited in his boat to rescue Diarmait from the pursuing Finn, before carrying Grania and he to safety at Bruig na Boinne. Up through the twisting streets, past the church and up to Howth Head. It was too cold to sit out, but we sat looking out over Dublin Bay, to Dalkey, Bray Head, and the Wicklow Mountains, before strolling along the cliffs.