From Bath to Cork with Baby Grace

Many people have personal blogs - where they share personal stuff.  This is my place where I post an eclectic variety of content.  I also have a business blog - that’s my professional space - where you find my best shot at helping people to do business well.

But I’m like most people - a person with a wide collection of interests & curiosities.  I find it difficult - impossible to confine my communication to a single topic.  

The theme that ties everything here is my daughter Grace ("omanidot" on Twitter).  I began writing for her in 2005, imagining she’d be interested (some day) in my experience of moving back to Ireland from UK.  That focus on one audience has been the most important support - it’s kept me at it, so I never feel any wish to give up this blog.  It’s a special place.

Yesterday… 
after a tweet from Diane Brogan (@dianebrogan on Twitter), I had a rethink about this blog.  I came to this conclusion: here is where you find my "Eclectic Passions".  I don’t try to confine content to any topic. The theme that binds it all together is "Passion".

For example:

• Irish mental health, including my own… 

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• Developing new habits - with deliberate intention… 

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• Family storytelling (including stories Grace & I make up) 

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• Poetry - including poems I write myself… 

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• Golf - particularly "The Dan Plan" - & other exercises… 

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• Creativity - whatever that means… 

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• Walking the dog - usually late at night…

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• Being a dad - the third time round… 

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I realise I’ve left out my passion for gender equality in Irish politics & the topic of improving Irish political life.  But I must be careful I don’t let my passion for changing the status quo run away with me.

As you can see, I love Audioboo. 

Thank you for calling in here.  I hope you find something that hooks your passion.

(Thanks again to Diane Brogan.) 

#Audioboo : why I"ve come back to social media @chrisbrogan thanks (mp3)

Dear Grace,

Chris Brogan published "Depression is an offline event" on 27 October. I was surprised because I’ve been thinking about how I could restart this blog after 9 months silence.  Because of my depression, I’ve been absent from all social media since January. Chris Brogan’s words spoke to me - gave me the lift & hook I needed.

I’m back here now - a changed person.

My bout of depression was awful.
Although I’ve had several bouts since 1992, this time was as bad as ever. The knowledge that I’d survived & pulled through before was hardly any consolation to me. It didn’t shorten or reduce the dominance of anxiety & low low mood every day. I felt as dreadful as I’d ever done, as hopeless, as cut off, as lost…

I gave up writing. I found the thought of social media & networking made me nauseous.  All the connecting I’d done so furiously & enjoyably seemed pointless & a waste of time. I spent huge chunks of the days alone in the house - avoided going out to meet people as much as possible. My confidence & self-esteem sank. You could say I practised the art of not existing - every day from mid January until about 10 October. 

Of course I went out & did things, went places, met people during this time. But my heart wasn’t in it. It felt to me as if I was going through the motions of being a person - without any of the satisfactions you expect from  ’ordinary life’. 

The long time I spent with you in Lahinch over the summer helped - but it didn’t lift my depression. I felt fortunate others were so good to you.  Did I ever thank them properly? Did I ever help them? 

But the depression has lifted.
I have hope again - some confidence & self-esteem - a multicoloured life has returned to me - and I now want to connect with others.

That’s why I’m writing this. 

Back to what Chris Brogan wrote:

 "In the last several weeks, two people that I’ve known from online have taken their lives. In both cases, there were tweets or Facebook posts or Google+ updates that hinted that things might be falling apart. But we rarely notice such posts. We rarely hear them loudly, because they aren’t Siri jokes or cats dressed like astronauts. 

Depression is tricky. People seeking to connect and get solace online, it’s not really going to help. You can’t count on your Twitter following to pull you out of a depression. You can’t feel floored when your online friends don’t hear you loud and clear. Remember that everyone is living out their own biography, and they might not be as aware of what’s been going on with you…"

Chris Brogan is a hero of mine. I’ve looked up to him for ages, admired his viewpoint & allowed it to influence me in ways I’d find hard to spell out. He usually writes about business. To find him sharing such tough & personal news moved me - I felt supported by his words - as if I’d found someone who lived in the same world as me. It is so good when a celebrity opens up & is as real & human as this, isn’t it?

Chris continued with this advice:

"… Seek help offline. Visit a priest or a rabbi or whatever religious person makes sense. Visit a shrink. Talk to your doctor. Often times, depression is a medical problem that is exacerbated by experiences happening in your environment. 

You’re not alone, but the online world makes it really hard to see your pain. Things move too fast, are too shiny, and we are all hurrying around. The online world can make you feel more alone when you’re feeling sad.

Get help early. Don’t feel like you are a failure because you need some help. The strongest people in the world get help often, in many forms. You are worth it. Please, seek help offline and then come back and chat with us, too. Okay? "

Okay Chris,
I have sought help offline & now come back to chat with you all.  You can easily imagine how encouraging your words have been, how they have been the difference between staying silent and reaching out online again.

But I’ve changed.
I’m not the same person I was before my depression. Or I am the same person, behaving differently. (I prefer the second formulation.)

I’ve thought hard about why I crashed with depression. Why I’ve crashed before - so rapidly.  I’ve listened to others & taken their views more seriously than ever before.

I won’t be blogging & tweeting with gusto & frequency - as I did so enjoyably, frenetically & obsessively.  I’ve held back for about three weeks - resisted the urge to rush forward into the fray of online life.  I’ve been careful to limit the number of people I’ve caught up with face-to-face. Not because I haven’t wanted to, but because my priority is taking care I don’t get drawn into overdoing myself.

I need a quieter life, with much fewer projects & ambitions.  I need to be gentle & moderate.  Did anyone ever describe me as "gentle & moderate" before? I bet you didn’t..

Thanks a million
A huge "Thank you" to all who contacted me online & asked how I was. Your words helped me feel unforgotten - even helped me feel I meant something valuable to others. Even though I never replied to you - and often wished I didn’t exist at all - you did me good. My feeble memory recorded your kind concern. I appreciated every word & wish.

I apologise for vanishing without explanation. If I could, I would have written a short note - as Marian Keyes did in January 2010. That would have been considerate but I didn’t have the strength for that. (Marian also wrote these moving & informed pieces in May & June 2010.)

Afterlife is now for me…
I feel more meaning in the phrase "today is the first day of the rest of your life". I’ll do my best to strike a satisfying & sustainable balance (you know what this means.).  Yes, I’ll feel again the urge to spend massive energy on attractive ideas & projects.  I’ll need help from others to keep me on track.  I can’t do it alone.

Grace, 
You are such a support to me - my job of being a good-enough father to you matters so much to me. Thank you for being here, for giving me the opportunity to live & keep well.

With love to you all, and a special thanks to Chris Brogan.

 

 

This is the morning after HelpPortraitCork.  I’m slowly recovering energy.  When I woke I wanted to cancel the day & stay in bed. The adrenaline was gone - the body felt as if it was fit for nothing.

Help-Portrait was that good.  Later I’ll say more about what HelpPortraitCork was like yesterday.  Until then, this is the complete set of audios I made on the day:

On the day: 

(1)  Start of day diary recorded very early here 

(2)  Another personal diary about why I’m doing Help-Portrait - recorded as I left home   here  

(3)  Just as HelpPortraitCork was ready to welcome people for their portraits - voices of our team here  

(4)  1310 What it all looked like and sounded - music & interview with magician Ger Kearney here

(5)  Lunchtime: More sounds from the lobby of HelpPortraitCork - two make-up artists (Lisa & Andrea) speak here  

(6)  Towards the end I interviewed Michael Lynch & Darran Kelleher of AV3 Productions  here 

(7)  The end of HelpPortraitCork - a description & "in a word" comments for many people here  

 

 

 

Dear Grace,

It’s just after 5am on the day after my 60th birthday. I’m thinking of your experience of five years & a bit. I’m in my office, finished with sleep - ready to move on with the first day of the rest of my life.

I have no idea when you’ll read this - but maybe your grandchildren will find it long after we’re both gone.  Maybe they’ll be amused to discover what it was like for me to achieve the experience of 60 years?

It’s taken me a lot of effort to get here.  It took my mother a mighty effort to give birth to me, all those years ago. She was 24.  I was the first of her six children, two weeks overdue.

It would take too long to summarise the last 60 years.  It would chew up a lot of time to write that story now - so I’ll tell you a bit about the day I joined the club.  I became a member of an expanding number of people who live to greet this particular age - in other words, a lot more people are becoming 60 now.

Let me begin with the people I met on the internet on my birthday…  

I sorta cheated.  I began pubilicly engaging with others about my birthday the day before - on 11 October, I used Twitter to let people know I was about to have a 60th birthday. (Facebook already knew.) I said I was happy to receive birthday greetings - in other words, I decided I was going to make a fuss about it - rather than reach 60 under the radar.  

I thought "it’s been hard enough to reach this point in my life, I might as well celebrate it - might as well make a virtue of a necessity."

The truth is I was really pleased to have reached 60
- it gave me an opportunity to notice what a wonderful life it’s been. I’ve been so fortunate, even if I haven’t always felt fortunate or grateful for it.  I might as well admit I was an ungrateful child. Uncomfortable in my own skin a lot of the time.  I still don’t think I’ve said enough thank you’s to my parents, brothers, sisters, schoolmates, friends, work colleagues & wives.  Yesterday I set out to honour & enjoy the experience I’ve gained in the company of others. I decided "this is our day".

Would you be interested to know what it was like on the internet? What happened via Twitter & Facebook? The messages I received? They reveal a lot about how people are today  - not just how I am - how modern networking works…

So, for you & me - and the generations to come - here’s a record of who was in touch with me on my 60th birthday - on 12 October 2010 (in chronological order - Twitter first)

@financial_al (Allan Cuthbert)
@audioMysteryTym (Stefania Lintonbon)
@paraic  (Padraig Hegarty)
@DoMyBooks (Ralph Smith)
@eoinpmphoto (Eoin Mulligan)
@_sians (Sian Phillips)
@paulbrugger
@cliffhousehotel
@tnTeacherTim (Tim Nelligan)
@CorkGourmetGuy (Dave Ahern)
@queenofpots (Susan C)
@despod
@thinktank_ (Think-Tank Consulting))
@susan_lanigan
@CACMAaccountants (Carla Manning)
@umnumnum_cork (Margaret Smith)
@jonathanGrimes
@climatech (Alex Smith)
@BusinessTori (Tori Hawthorne)
@kencurtin
@wagonandtrail (Dina Jones)
@Nelligirl01 (Lisa Nelligan)
@OrlaLinihan
@BigAlphy (Alan Brophy)
@BarryDesignWeb
@eoghanol (Eoghan O’Leary)
@Primary Position (David)
@WildOrchard
@KJMurrayCEng (Kevin Murray)
@theBrandBuilder (Olivier Blanchard)
@maevemirza (Maeve Quill)
@Liamooo (Wills D - Dublin)
@H2Oconsult (Tony Cain)
@Donal_Cahalane
@gamgob (gammagoblin)
@raptureponies (Cait)
@esusWeb
@RogerOverall
@MarketingInCork
@renateMurphy
@profileIE
@MarkGHegarty
@Sundaytwist (Emma)
@CuriousMike (Michael Kane)
@doogarry (Mairead Quinn)
@dogfoodlady (Margaret Maguire)
@ConnorHughes
@Ali_Davies
@angelacork (Angela Buckley)
@ElaineRogers
@RedDave14 (Dave F O’Connell)
@MMaryMcKenna (Mary McKenna)
@IvanSantry
@SmarterEgg (Aodan Enright)
@Alan_Connolly
@onemustwork (John Carmody)
@wineAllianceMoz
@rhubarbsticks
@DanMorris63
@Cian_W
@Mdecogan (Micheál Cogan)
@AddsOS (Ann-Marie O’Sullivan)
@FreckledPast (Evin)
@DiarmuidCogan
@ItalianFoodie
@whhoganQuintas (William Hogan Cork)
@cotisgal (Carrie Stiers)
@CafeGusto
@emeraldquillnet (Emerald Quill)
@jwhelton (James Whelton)
@C103Colum (Colum McGrath)
@BlackrockCastle
@ChiroBen1 (Benjamin Martin)
@WriterCJ (Calvin Jones)
@sweetdreamsire (Darren Gale)
@UniSlimCork (Shirley)
@JL_Pagano 
@Colm_Ryan
@Grayzie (Grace)
@LiamGarvey
@SusanKilkenny (Susan Cullen)
@SiobhanCoyle
@onevision_ian (Ian Armstrong)
@destaic (Patrick Stack)
@fluffanella (Geraldine Daly)
@JohnAllanImages (John Allen)
@obrienbarry (Barry O’Brien)
@WestCorkHotel
@KeithMalone
@Whistlinpaddy (Steve Kelly)
@BetsyDraperFl (Betsy Draper)
@StevieGranger
@celav (Marcela Whelan)
@AlOliver (Alice-Anne Oliver)
@NoReinsGirl (Shazz)
@IvanODonoghue 
@Richard_illy (Richard Iveson)
@aquaasho (Aisling Coppinger)
@_SecretGarden_ (Brian Patterson)
@jimxcomet (Jim O’Mahony)
@PeterCoxPhoto (Peter Cox)
@fcollinsie (Fiona Collins)
@BernieQuinn
@GavinLyons
@SigmaWritings (Mihai Ionescu)
@bngr
@walkCork
@damianB (Damian Bannion)
@JeromeAoustin
@froodie
@micfitzgerald (Michael FitzGerald)
@Gwensonic (Henry Gwensonic)
@Eireball
@PatMcA (Pat McAuliffe)
@KathLeary (Kathleen Leary)
@MarkRock
@derryo (Derry O’Donnell)
@carreDenis (Denis Carre)

I’ll gather the list of Facebook Friends later… then those I met face2face on the day… 

 

 

 

Writing an epic poem is epic work - the result may be epic too - or disastrous.  I remember spending huge chunks of time in November 2009 - writing this poem in a Moleskine Notebook - as I travelled round Ireland [& UK too].

Recording an audio version of an epic poem is another epic job.  I’ve been doing my best.  Now it’s reached the 8th stage, canto 8  [I wonder where Dante was at this stage of his epic Inferno?]

You might like to listen to this version  [I’m gradually reading it into iPhone & sharing it via AudioBoo.]

Canto 1

Canto 2

Canto 3

Canto 4 part 1 & Canto 4 part 2

Canto 5

Canto 6

Canto 7

Canto 8 

What I’d love you to do is listen to some, and write (or audio) a review which let’s me know how you found it. 

Would it be useful to gather my recent audio broadcasts together in one place on this blog?  Would that be handy & attractive for others - especially those who don’t use AudioBoo themselves?

Let’s see…

Here are sounds of my last couple of weeks: [after each I’ve put the number of times each has been listened to - so far]

 I went to London

(1) My son Benjamin O’Mahony played Ibsen at Arcola Theatre Hackney, London by Mahdi Yahya [67]

(2) I felt encouraged by others  [35]

(3) I reviewed "The Emperor Self" and wished I’d seen it twice [158]

(4) I walked towards AudioBoo HQ [26]

(5) I interviewed Mark Rock, CEO  - and met team AudioBoo on Tower Bridge Road, London [125]

(6) I wrote a poem "AudioBoo" after the style of Rudyard Kipling’s Mandalay  [15]

I returned to work in Cork  

(7) I worked for a start-up "On-Line Senior Citizen" [25]

(8) I read my own Epic Poem: Irish Epic Poem in 33 Cantos - canto 7  [11]

(9) I listened to views of others who’ve given up Twitter  [708]

(10) I walked in the city of Cork on a Saturday morning, hear music  [24]

(11) I read Grace a bedtime story : Pinocchio (but audio ran out) [12]

(12) I vowed to take up golf again - after the Ryder Cup team was selected by a Scot [21]

(13) I celebrated Grace’s 5th birthday  [24]

(14) I started the school run from Glanmire thru the Jack Lynch tunnel  [22]

(15) I complained about traffic congestion in Douglas Cork - while I added to it [21]

(16) I experienced chaos on first school day - relived my childhood [27]

(17) I read out a blogpost letter to Grace : her birthday & first day at "big" school  [19]

(18) I worked for another start-up : In Hand Guides & discovered Innovation Vouchers  [25]

(19) I got my car repaired by AutoMotif in Cork, a team led by Paul Allen [35]

(20 I interviewed a policeman, Garda, about cancer - what Boston cops do with Cork Gardai [32]

 

 

 Audioboo: Your first day at "big" school http://boo.fm/b174863 - the audio version broadcast via Audioboo on 1 September.

Hello Grace,

Today is your big day. Your first day at what you call "big school".  And you’ve got so big.

A tiny little thing in Mummy’s tummy, the smallest little creature ever born.  This is the day you popped-out here to say hello.  And you brought a lovely little smile into my heart. It was the biggest little dream I’d ever seen.

You were a baby on this day, five years ago you came to stay, and you’ll never ever go away from me. Because I love you like a star, you’re above me from afar, and this day’s another step in precious life. 

There’s a slice of life you’ve eaten, a sweet you’ve partly touched.  But today you’re ready for another.  You’ve grown up & up the tree, so there’s more you now can see, I’m so happy you’re off to school  - as if ’twas really cool to jump into a green swimming pool.

Your uniform is green, the best you’ve ever seen, it’s a thrill for you to carry all those books.

You’re birthday’s also here, so you’ll never forget this day, it’ll be pink & gold across your mind. There’s a fluffy little dog who’ll wag his tail, he might even bark goodbye as you climb into the car. You’re a star for everyone, as you set out on these steps, but it’s your life you’re leading now, and I trust you’ll take a bow.

Because you’ve done it big big girl, you’re the one who’s ready now, you’re the leader of your life on every day. There’s no more I want to say, I simply want to cheer you on today.  

May your teacher, Miss Nalty,  also turn into a star, and show you lots of lovely things that all ring true. 

May your friends be right beside you, every step along the way.  Together, may you love the school as much as any party.

It’s your birthday.  It’s your schoolday.  It’s a way, it’s a play.

You deserve it, let’s observe it, you’ve the nerve for all that is to come.

Welcome to this day. 

I’ve promised Grace I’ll give her a gift of some of my writing.  Since she’s almost five, she may not read this blog for years - and then may not be interested in it for ages. Maybe even my grandchildren will value this most?

Rather than leave everything in Moleskine Notebooks, I’m going to do the "modern" thing - publish here…  

The act of sharing my diary will help me too… I may surprise myself.

So this is going to be a very long blogpost.  The Lourdes pilgrimage journey in June became spread over many posts.  This time, I’ll put everything from Galicia together - gradually until I complete the task.  There will be plenty of snaps too.

______________________________________________

To set the scene, a few snaps

               

_______________________________________

 

Episode 1

Give me a word to start the poem, Grace…

"Dfu"

A double Bombay
laced the icebergs
floating in tonic

Maiz or Millo
salted, almonds crunched
- welcome to Pazo O Rial

The child on my knee is obsessed,
crisps on the brain,
her fruit juice neglected

My gin slipping down nicely 
_______________________

This was my first drink in Spain, after first swim in the pool, after the surprise that the shallowest part was 1.6 metres.  The implications clear: I’d have to hold her up in the water - she couldn’t play without attention. 

This is the new hotel - we’ll eat here this evening.  It is fabulous the way the sun shines long into the bar.

_______________________

This is pure cliché
dappled wicker
stone lit, shadows firm,
the warmth of evening song,
the comings and goings,
Spanish movements through the bar,
my Bombay going down,
the Schweppes on ice
already … a little pissed
Martini Basarana Tanqueray
Ballantine’s Bacardi Beefeater 
Zoco Drambuie Calisay
100 Pipers Ron Barcelo
Jack Daniels Cointreau
even the Cutty Sark is too much
now that the company’s gone
and "Prohibido Fumar" reigns
supreme behind the counter
- what price a coffee now?

_______________________________

It was so pleasant to feel the warm sun baking my shins, and see the pattern change on the old castle walls.  I’d drunk a big Gin & Tonic - so that even the bottles looked exotically shaped, and the quiet attractive.

_______________________________

I will drink the sugar,
pour the stars of glucose
onto the tea spoon,
and sprinkle refined grains
on the surface of Galician
Expresso.

I will cherish the remainder
that lingers in the sachet,
wet the pad of forefinger
- licking it softly -
before cleaning the counter.
I like to flick fallen sweet.

I will go back to my hotel room,
leave behind a night sky
on hard wood.
There is Venus there,
Mercury, Mars, Neptune reflected
from the sapphire bottle of gin. 

___________________________

I broke open a sachet of sugar to temper the coffee. The sugar spilled on the counter, littered it so that I saw a clear night sky of stars in front of me. I then played with the debris, licking my finger.

___________________________

Wisps of curled hair hung over ears,
the child’s necklace chimed,
her elbows sat glued to the story
told by her thirsty mother.

Night fell
stars appeared
the sky formed
over Pontevedra.
There’s a party coming. 

I have to sign for

1. huge G&T €8
2. Agua Grande Sin Ga €3
3. Copa Rioja Tinto X 4  €8 (Albarino)
4. Ensalada Mixta €5
5. Copa de Halado €4 (ice cream)
6. Revuelto de Gambas €7 (eggs & prawn)
7. Pasta salsa carbona €9
8. Brochela de Polla €5 (chicken curry)

_________________________________________________________________________

Friday 6 August 2010
on the sofa in the hotel lobby with Grace & iPad

 

I woke first.  Omanimot & Grace asleep on the other bed.  
Warm.  Hotel wakes.  Lights moving on & off.  Voices. Sneezes & coughs.
"Angry Birds" on iPad.
A couple wheel their infant into the lobby, the man speaks Spanish - I can understand nothing.
The peace is now gone - we are now public.  It’s warm - frighteningly hot promises the day - I am afraid we’ll be burnt.  I’ll be fried.

There are five open locks on "Angry Birds", and no sound.  This is an artificially lit place, the bowel of the castle.
Faux fortress battlements - a bit like Blackrock Castle.
The infant says something - sounds off.  Mother bends over him? Is it a boy? Is that blue?

"Daddy, can we go for a swim?"
"Maybe when Mum wakes up…
"Dad, can I get a sweet?
"No, where from?
"Daddy, there’s a  man in there, he said Hola to me… And I said Hola back to him… My oil’s a brown one.
"Do you want to swap?
"You’re brown like me.
"We can swap anyway. I’m going to wrap mine in a wrapper.
"I’m going to wrap wrap wrap it up like me… (sings)
"Like me.
"You’re like an ee." Pops sweet in mouth. 

"Will we go exploring?" I suggest.
No reply, ignored - she’s in her world…
"Will we go exploring?" More ignoring.  A man walks by in pristine runners - looks as if he’s been out running.

"Can we go swimming?
"We can but not now" - I wonder what’s up that stairs?
"Just bedrooms & bedrooms & even more bedrooms" - still sucking her sweet.
What’s this Daddy?
"It’s a thing for a curtain."
Grace dives on top of me, like a cat… grabs my sweet.

Going on a mission, a special mission, to see, to find out what’s upstairs from the half-landing…
"Daddy, there’s even a better place upstairs…  

"It’s fantastic, double fantastic, it’s so pretty, even better than this room… wait til you see it, you’ll like it too."

_____________________________

First breakfast (0940-1010)

Cold meats X 3 Coffee X 1
Croissant X 2 Peach X 1
Tea (Barry’s) X 1 Roll = chorizo + cheese X 2 + tomato 
Almond Cake X 1/2 

The coffee’s bitter here,
beans dark roasted hard,
flavour for waking up
- I see Cezanne on the wall,
a fire extinguisher,
a smoke-free zone,
even water can’t soften the taste,
exploration calls,
echo of earlier conversation,
poplars wave, leaves flash,
sunlight shortening shadows
under the apple trees.
A bronzed girl hangs her jacket
on the back of a chair. 

___________________________

 

Lunch 

• Pimentos de Patron
• Awesome bread
• Grace = gambas
• Fish soup - monkfish + another (peas, red peppers, onion, potatoes, asparagus, tomatoes) X €22
• Albanina 2009  12% Rias Baixas €9
• Coffee X 2 

The Wine Festival
dregs of the bottle
opened last week.
Artisan broach-maker,
ringman born in England,
a girl with braces, 
bright sparklers 

a stall on which to taste
the languages of X,
shish, almost extinct
thanks to Franco from Fustar,
charcouterie from Léon
to Combarro with love
From Cambados
a playground cooking,
children swinging. 

______________________________

Lunch  

Embutidos (cold meats) X 1  €9.90
Ensaladas  €5
Gambas ajille  €9.50
1 Lager  + 2 Water
1 X Halado

 

_______________________

The day flowers
a sunshine bloom
shadows rest
on baked stone
- time reclines

Nada
strikes me
the table supports
left-overs
crumbs of rustic bread
loiter in crevices  

____________________________

 

Saturday evening @ 2117
Sitting in hotel room - omanimot gone to find the beach - Grace watching basketball Spain V Lit (Lithuania?) (her choice) 

I fell asleep for about 40 minutes - while the others went to the pool. Unusual for me: went to WiFi zone in hotel lobby - intended to start putting up "The Galician Writing" - frustrated by iPad.

It let me into my blog via Search (not Wordpress) - let me start to  compose blogpost, write the title - but not the body of the post.

Why?
Weird.

iPad would be great if …

(1) I knew how to work it better
(2) It was better
(3) I was different
(4) It was different

"The Simpsons" in Spanish - Grace got fed up with basketball - how long before she tires of Bart & Co.?

The window cells
rectangles
against sky and homes.
Evening spreads its quiet
fade
- the heat of the day
stays in my cheeks. 

I saw a bat dash across the courtyard,
flit faster than a swallow after a fly

You may be content with moths’ wings
and other electrical thicks in the light

This is an evening with Venus. 

__________________________________

 

Sunday 0905  The sofa in hotel lobby with Grace & iPad

Random doodle (saved to photos)

This is like a train station, people passing by in couples & individuals. I’ve had a lousy night - woke dehydrated four times - so thirsty - didn’t get up in case I’d wake the others.

The plastic back & backpacks leave the hotel speaking Scandanavian.  Benjamin is in Ibsenland now.

We’ve learned how to move on to a new work of art.

"The iPad did a parp."
"No, that was me,
excuse me, I said excuse me…"

I’m so glad it’s 9 - I feared it might be 6, and I’d be awake, annoyed, tired.  This means I must have slept - even tho I had the impression I was awake for hours.

Oh I am tired, hot, another day of hot sun is here - the heat takes it out of me.

Artificial light inside.

"The snakes are kissing each other…
Look at this, I can even draw a white snake.
Look at this, they are hugging
poor black one…
There, his is very sick, all those spots
cause he is leaning over
he’s ill
He’s ill, look, all those spots…
That snake said
‘I will make you better.’
That’s the yellow
mommy, mommy mommy [squeeking]
mommy… "

I want mussels for dinner tonight
I want a song that’s ever so tight
Let me have my favorite sweet
Nothing you do would be such a treat. 

 

 

 

____________________________________________________________

Monday morning 

I woke at 0915, with a pain all over my back. Showered in hot water, hoping the warmth would tend the aching muscles.
Slowly I forgot about my back.
I had a while without glasses - couldn’t find them in bedroom - they’d been handed into Reception..

Still trying to get iPad to let me update my blog on Blogs.ie + add a blog to Reeder
- so irritating that I’ve vowed not to Tweet.  Bet I could get an answer of help on Twitter.

Also, I can’t put my photos on to iPad.

Grace plays on "Angry Birds" - we all do.  I read "The Google Story". 

There’s a woman on her iPad in lobby, another woman on laptop & son on notebook.

We’re going to go to Muros.  How far is that from here? The four hours from 2pm are fit only for driving & sitting in cafés.

Galicia…
They say it’s Spain’s Ireland
where the temperature’s not so hot -
the coastline’s rough and crude,
unsophisticated, undeveloped land

they say it’s like going back
to the tone of the 1950s,
but the Irish don’t visit Galicia,
this is an English-free zone -
corn-on-the-cob, vineyard plots,
eucalyptus and honeysuckle…
wind, sun and independence.

It feels so far from Madrid,
a Donegal from Stephen’s Green,
a Belfast from Tralee -  
Monks carried the Albarino seeds
from across the Rhine they say
but the razor-shell clams are homegrown
Navajas
Pimientos de Padrón fly the green flag
sweetening the oil, salted, occasionally fiery,
a surprising explosion of chilli
reminds me of Franco’s birthplace Ferrol
El Caudillo - the shipyards of Harland & Wolff,
the fishing fleet in Killybegs,
memories of the Lanes in Limerick.

________________________________

1400
I can set my clock by the heat of the sun,
feel the call of the shade through skin of Irish genes
‘Estrella Galicia, cerveza especial’.
There is no place like stone for refuge,
no far, far better place that I drink now,
than I have ever been
to slake a thirst
conceived by the morning’s pool. 

We have plans to go out for the afternoon & evening, north to Muros, driving with the windows open, or air-conditioning on. We have no map for distances - the WiFi…

 

 

_______________________________

Monday @ 2105
Restaurante Marsquéria in town, harbour of Fisterra
- as the light thins
- on a white paper tablecloth
- the day chills to a close
and the people gather to eat.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Tues @ 0708

Sent 303kb
Received 1.7mb     Why so high?

____________________________

 

 

The end of the world

the coast of death
the Camino finish
lighthouse
people wait for an apparition
boots suspended from metal
cameras for eyes
taking up position on the rocks
the tiny flotilla below
a speedboat rounding the Head
inside an Exhibition 
the Cross
the sun on the sea
blinding light
The God of the Sea is expected,
an air of a gathering
bodies arranging themselves

 

_________________________

1043 Getting up for breakfast

fried egg X 2            Pineapple X 2 X 1/2
bacon X 6                Plum
grapes X 1 big bunch  Bread

After writing more of "Social Media for Beginners"
After leaving a blog comment on MWN
After lying on sofa in pajama bottoms
After Grace coming to find me @ 1015
Shower & shave
Can’t believe I’ve been up 4 hours
After looking at photos on iPhone & Fugifilm

Let’s go to Gui on way to Vigo - agreed 

Lot’s of cake & more pineapple.

________________________

Tui (say Twee)
1515 Hot:  31 degrees now - up from 27 degrees
- across from Portugal

 

 

______________________________________

________________________

Snack Cantinho
19.40: Kyle from San Francisco, spoke Spanish, Portugese,+ Russian, daughter 3 Maiah
= heading south towards Algarve
Live near Bilbao, 30-40 mins Calabria
Born 1969, knows Santana’s music 

In Portugal I met a man
looking for a church,
his shirt was black
his head was bald.

___________________________________________________________________________

Wednesday begins here …. 

Baiona Plan

 

• Columbus’ Pinta in harbour [10-2pm]
• Medieval walls - walk around parapet
• Footpath beneath walls - small beaches
• Praia de America  2 kms east via village Ramallosa (Roman Bridge)
• Picador Conde de Gondomar (visit)
• A Guneda = Celta (pre Roman hill fort)  = Cromlech (stone circle)
• Ferry €3 X 2 to Caminha Portugal 

The others sleep on. I’ve been iPhoning - in Apps Store. 

 

I see coffee, newspapers, toothpicks, sugar

I see photos, paper napkins, orange juice machine

I see the time confirmed

and the first misunderstanding of the day

I see a strange young woman in black

pour milk into my coffee

I see the first disaster of today

I see a cigarette, and nicotine smoke 

distributed over the bar

my reflection looking back at me from the mirror

I see the taste of the thing they call coffee on my lips

I see "The Google Story" with it’s edges frayed

the iPhone in a leather protector

I see the proprietor hand a short-trousered man a slip of white paper

I see the ash over the sweet toasted croissant

a bangle on tanned wrist

a flash of an engagement ring

I see breakfast through haze

a handbag sack dumped on a stool

I see the young lad’s question before the sachet is torn

I see a mouth wiped, lips dabbed, and cheeks munch

a thick glass of iced tea swallowed

another pair of bare knees

I see spectacles, his hand touch the small of her back

I see neon lights flash

a cup and saucer made in Portugal

and three fingers raised to say thanks

and goodbye until the next time

I see my cup taken away for an Americano

a newspaper suspended between elbow and ribcage

a hotel receptionist staring at the Vigo Times

seven empty stools, whole oranges squeezed

a white linen shirt sipping the result

I see my writing on the Moleskine page

the way dark roasted beans change the look of my throat

I see the time has moved on to nine fifty-one and thirty-eight seconds

I see "Slide to Unlock" on the iPhone screen…

 

- the Café of Indifference, the memory of Indifference 

______________________________

 

1100  On the boat as it leaves dock

 

Chattering crowd, excited voices
in-doors  out of the sunshine

the heat, Barbie Thumbelina
on the table
Reverse thrust

 

1343

In a bar under shade of Schuckler beer, Edel - Grace gone to find a place to make lunch

- rather than here at the table

 

- Compostela tomorrow, on the way to A Coruna?

 

- Spend the last part of the holiday at seaside, rather than Compostela?

 

- Cancel the booking for hotel in A Coruna, to find a place with an outside pool?

 

Questions… Indifference - I remind myself 

______________________________

 

The Temple of Indifference

I worship before the presence
of Almighty overwhelming,

all-calming Indifference…

 

I rest in the arms of my Saviour  

"Save the Ocea" strides past

a pair of tattooed thighs
bearing baguettes… 

 

 

 

 
I revel in the bosom of my god.

Indifference you beauty, 
you lifeguard
you excommunicating soulmate

beyond the beyond

as an Elvis the Pelvis look-alike
carries beer bottles to his muse
and more baguettes… more stubble

This is the altar, the sanctuary
where nothing matters,
all passion spent

where the turquoise is on the move

now.
 __________________________

 

 

2000 pairs of Shag
colonise this Head.

_____________________________________________________________

Friday @ 0958 with Grace in Cafeteria Compostela…

Café (no milk)   Americano
Orange juice      + 1 ham sandwich
sweet croissant
Fuente di Val  (small bottle of water)

Street with a photo that tells the intro to the day.  From Vigo to A Coruna via Santiago.  I’ve  become a regular here. Newspapers on counter.

What time is Mass?

The green teeshirt for Compostela
the "Hairy Baby" one…
it fits the day,
slips like a glove
over tummy and chest,
proclaims the humour of the Unbeliever
to the people of Vigo.
Over Americano
in Cafeteria Compostela,
alongside a ham sandwich,
a glass coated in fresh orange juice,
a child too young to unbelieve
asks "Daddy, why do you always snore in Cork and not here?"

I’m at Mass, serving in soutane,
kneeling, palms joined,
wondering how long it’ll take
for Father Guinane to race
through the Latin

"in ne nos inducas in tentationem
sed libera nos a malo"
- a long way from Mallow
to the second Americano.
All the men wear spectacles for breakfast
across tables made to resemble marble
- none of them look like they’ve been to Mass today  

 

 

_______________________

1533. Restaurante Las Vegas

Field of stars
sticks and shells
bread for giants
clouds …
service for lichen

We are sat outside. Unimpressed again, annoyed again at the slow service in yet another Spanish restaurant.  Never enough staff, no method to their busy-ness
- challenges your patience.  Challenges you to become more patient.
They bustle, even trot, back and forth, carry plates with nervous tension.
Kids run round tables, play their way, as adults sit around, and a pigeon lands to peck crumbs from the footpath.
I see that waiter with the smig run as the other emerges with a tray of six crayfish…
So I tear another chunk of bread to chew and wash down with lager.

________________________

By the light of a gap in the cloud
the warmth of the sun flooded in,
the shades came alive with the shadows.

The ripples of wine in the glass,
the chatter of travellers, abroad
- by the legs of the table, the birds

Al-Gattars    Aguardiete Blanca   40%

___________________________

2343  Lobby of Eurostar (or something) Hotel  A Coruna 

- great fun place A Coruna , a couple of G&Ts do the trick
- a sandwich of chorizo
- a bit of WiFi and battery dying.

My 3 top highlights so far

• Finesterra & all
• Santiago de Compostela
• the Islands @ Vigo

  • • •  

 _________________________

Winnie the Pooh featured this evening, after Alice the Wonderland child. I read chapters 1-3 on the iPad. As I spat on the screen, I admitted I’d never read the book.

There it goes, the iPad dies, the battery fades, the door shuts.  I’m left with an unfinished Bombay Gin & Tonic, the last wishes of the day, and a glimpse of Ken Follett carried by the lone man who shakes his head as he reads to himself.  (2353)
I’m fascinated by the bald patch on top of vigorous growth seen from the back…
He flips into conversation as soon as the hotel’s penguin makes an unexpected entrance.  I admire his shorts…

I sit alone among the empty legs of chairs.  This is a lobby without humanity, a thoroughfare, a throughput.  You have to smile at blank walls.

I am reasonably pissed.     (0002)
__________________________________________________________

Saturday

I have a smile
for you alone
a smile you’d love
a treasure
a time for pleasure…   (0007)
_________________________________

0913  Arrival for breakfast of Edel & Grace

Grace wearing her new teeshirt from ZARA Santiago
This is a white room, so bright.

_________________________________________________________________

Sunday

1015 Breakfast

Carnota hotel search

Corcubíon = El Horreo

- low on staff nos.
- good scrambles eggs
- poor coffee
- Barry’s tea turned bad

Santiago ———————————————-  Bicycles    (1107)

___________________________

My Camino to Compostela

Ten thousand miles I’ve walked this road
Santiago Compostela, whatever the name.
Fifty-nine years ago, I took first steps.
Unsure of myself, I crawled from Limerick,
out from under the shadow of the Redemptorist Cathedral,
stumbling by way of the Holy Rosary Parish church,
Franciscans, Augustinians,
Dominicans, Jesuits.
My pilgrimage path to this field of stars
took me through a desert where I missed Sunday Mass
and fell out of love with mortal sin and Original sin,
where I began to doubt Purgatory and the mystery of Salvation.
In A Gramola Cafe, a corner of Cervantes Place,
a Sunday afternoon in August,
to bagpipes, I do my best to rest
both feet in the memory of Dublin’s resurrection.
On Grafton Street and Stephen’s Green
there was a path I wore,
as my baggage grew lighter.
I walked to the Ferry in Dun Laoighre,
kept going until I rested in London,
not far from the Isle of Dogs.
The bones of Saint James
buried in the bank of the River Thames
undiscovered still
a gentleman Apostle,
the sort who did no harm while alive,
I strode past him unaware of his potential:
Santiago Metamoros.
I can still smell the nicotine smoked by my neighbours,
the woman on white wine and crisps,
the man coughs
Estrella Galicia.
Five thousand miles took nothing out of me
that I wouldn’t have lost otherwise…

From London west … towards Bath
From Bath west to Cork
From Cork south to Galicia
to Compostela.

__________________________

1540

After a beer, a few notes towards a poem that turned into prose, after the batteries died on the camera & I found no WiFi…
time to write from this shade
to follow my curiosity… to see where it’ll lead.

Around the corner of Praza de Cervantes
past Keltu Idionas
come the sticks, the shells, the gourds, the knapsacks and boots,
the songs, smiles, the confidence that it’s downhill now
to the Square in front of the Cathedral.

__________________________

2145 - 2245  Dinner (buffet) @ hotel.

_______________________________________________________________________

Campo da Rata   July 1936 - August 2010

(Monument to the Executed  - by Isaac Diaz Pardo)

I walked up into the rising sun
as it come over the horizon.
I walked, I prowled
I laid my iPad and Moleskine down
so as to photograph the monuments.
I poured over the Images of Hercules
and Stonehenge, Avebury standing stones.
I turned
back to collect my belongings
Gone…

Taken…
Un-there…
The horror of what I’d lost
the irreplaceable.
Who could have taken away my life
IPad new child, barely suckled
Moleskine packed with memories
lines written on far-off land
lines never to be again
Work, play, creating hours…
Who?
Where?
Where?
The cleaners, they were the only one who passed by…
What will the woman say?
How will she howl?
Panic, run, skuther & helter & skelter, panic
Gone to be sold on
like a child ripped into slavery
the black (of iPad)
the red (of Moleskine)
Life shot out from under me
One night in 1936.
My wellbeing executed
I ran over the rocks and field
I stop-started I was all over the place
Lost, panic
An unbeliever coming face to face
with his own created stupidity.

A lorry, an open door
a man
with a red notebook
mine.
The iPad? Where?

At least I had the book of work…

Under the seat

three men Spanish

they speak

I understand nothing but my own stupidity

Creativity put to crazy use

The field where I nearly lost my life…

 

El Parque de Punta Hermina
el Jardin de El Moro  29/11/2004 Opened
Campo da Rata
Governor Francisco Carballo
Mayor Alfredo Suarez Ferrin
"walks" "paseos"

__________________________________

 

We are breakfasting on egg - scrambled to solid lumps -
frankfurter and slabs of bread
the slices of pineapple
alongside prunes & apricots
one packet of Special K
another of "Smacks"
strips

________________________________
 

 

_______________________________________________________