For a guy that bought his first camera less than a year ago, my friend Conor sure knows how to use it! Here’s he’s captured Ireland’s historic Kilmainham Gaol in all it’s bleak and imposing glory. I’ve never visited it but now I want to more than ever.
Monthly Archives: January 2013
Rootin’ tootin’ car bootin’
Anyone for golf? I bet these old clubs have seen a few rounds in their time.
I think I’ve always been this way. Give me an empty shelf and I’ll fill it for you in no time at all.
My house very clearly reflects this part of my personality – everywhere you look there are photos, candles, figurines, souvenirs and nostalgic tokens from my past. I have pennies belonging to my grandfather, gravel from the F1 track in Montreal, my nanny’s favourite cup, an owl-shaped candle from a boyfriend of Christmas past, a most beloved childhood teddy bear, a friend’s battered drumsticks and an empty statue-shaped bottle of Kahlua my college housemate brought me back from Mexico.
So you can understand why a car boot sale is probably not the best place for a person like me to go. They’ve got a lot of stuff!
A friend re-introduced me to the joys of car bootin’ during the summer and, oh me, oh my, was I hooked!
Restraint is the key to success which, unfortunately, is not something that comes easily to me.
The minute I hop out of the car I’m like a giddy child – ‘I want, I want, I want…everything!’ – but I have to force myself to be patient. Almost immediately I’ll spot something on one of the first few stalls we pass but I keep my hands in my pockets – if I pick it up, I’m done for.
Despite my initial need for this desirable item, nine times out of ten I’ll have forgotten it by the time we’ve finished browsing all the stalls; usually because I’ve found something even better on one of the tables down the line.
Inevitably, there’s a certain amount of rubbish on display but this makes the excitement that much greater when you lay your hands on a piece of treasure amid the tat. Now, treasure doesn’t mean something valuable – an antique or anything like that – it’s simply that thing you really wanted that only cost a couple of euro.
It made my day when I found a jar with ‘pickles’ written on the side which was big enough to hold kitchen utensils and cost just €4. Likewise, I have a party coming up and wanted to find some makeshift vases to put flowers in. Having splashed out less than €20, I came home with seven different ‘vases’ that were even better than what I’d had in mind.
The sign of a really good car boot sale is that you can truly buy anything there but, while I love a good browse as much as the next person, I seem to have developed some favourite stalls that I simply have to visit.
In Callan, Co. Kilkenny, there’s one guy selling books and I think he can read my mind. One side of the table is filled with piles and piles of history books, mostly Irish history books at that (my favourite), while the other has a stack of cookery books (my current weakness).
There’s another guy selling antiques and, whenever we have time to spare, I like to go in, pick up the different pieces and imagine where I’d put them in my house.
Given that my car bootin’ buddy and myself are both wannabe crafters, a stop-off at the stall selling fabrics, wools, ribbons and buttons is also mandatory.
If you’re trying to organise an event on a budget or just want to be more economical in your day-to-day life, a trip to a car boot sale should definitely be on your ‘to do’ list. Even if you don’t buy anything, you can while away a whole afternoon just checking out all the lovely, lovely stuff!
Anyone else uncovered a hidden gem at a car boot or jumble sale?
Light fittings for sale at Callan car boot sale.
Wise words at Callan car boot sale.
In the past I’ve described my fascination with whales and now the first Irish sightings of the year have happened on my own doorstep – happy days!
The first Whales of what has now become known as ‘Whale Watching Season’ on the Hook Peninsula in county Wexford have been spotted inshore in Irish waters off Hook Head over the weekend.
Two Humpback Whales, 5 Fin Whales have been identified with sightings confirmed by the Irish Whale and Dolphin Group. A ‘Superpod’ of Dolphins has also been spotted.
Martin Colfer, Skipper of the Rebecca C first spotted the new arrivals to the waters of the Hook Peninsula. The Rebecca C departed Duncannon on Wednesday, January 9 at 9am and came upon a ‘superpod’ of Dolphins and then the first Fin Whales east of Hook and then five more Fin Whales Southwest of Hook Head as they were feeding.
Tony Murray Wildlife Ranger for South Wexford with the National Parks and Wildlife Service and member of the Irish Whale and Dolphin Group spotted the first Humpback of the season…
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A cut above the rest
Formula One is not for everyone but, like all other sports, it has this wonderful ability of attracting exceptional people to its ranks.
Before 2012 has completely sailed off into the distance of our minds, I’d like to take a moment to honour a hero of mine whose presence in my beloved F1 saved countless lives and revolutionised safety within the sport.
Professor Sid Watkins (1928 – 2012).
Professor Sid Watkins passed away on September 12 2012 at the age of 84. In medical circles, he was a well-respected neurosurgeon who held professorships in the now State University of New York Upstate Medical University in Syracuse and later at the London Hospital.
In F1 circles, he was the man who helped staunch the blood-flow from all-too-frequent death and serious injury at the wheels of racing cars. The tireless work of the ‘Prof’, as he was affectionately known, has seen many drivers walk away from crashes that could easily have killed them.
Prof. Watkins had been a fan of motorsport since he was a boy and had helped out in a medical capacity at a number of grand prix before Bernie Ecclestone – then head of the Formula One Constructors’ Association, now ultimate F1 supremo – asked him to take up the role of Grand Prix surgeon in 1978.
Back then, medical facilities were very hit and miss at the tracks. Many were too small and ill-equipped, some were difficult to access and others were housed in converted buses and caravans; meanwhile helicopters to ferry the injured to hospital were often only available on race-day.
When Prof. Watkins was prevented by carbinieri from attending the scene of Ronnie Peterson’s horrific accident at Monza in Italy that year, it was clear things had to change – fast. Lack of organisation at that race meant that it was several minutes before any medical assistance reached the Swede who, despite positive early signs, later passed away. Ever since, a medical car has followed the F1 cars around the track on the first lap of every race.
These days, many of the changes put forward by the professor would seem little more than common sense but, back then, there was strong resistance to them, particularly from the tracks themselves. The medical team was frequently met with suspicion, silence or just plain hostility.
Professor Watkins’ book, Life at the Limit, is one I often pick up and find very hard to put down.
However, behind his jovial and friendly demeanour, Prof. Watkins was a formidable and determined man who was never afraid to upset drivers (who wanted to race in spite of injuries), track officials (who refused to play ball) or even his great ally Bernie Ecclestone is his bid to eliminate as much risk as possible from his sport.
During his years of service, Prof. Watkins helped to save many drivers’ lives but there was inevitable heartache at the loss of friends, such as Gilles Villeneuve and, more particularly, Ayrton Senna. The Brazilian triple World Champion was deeply affected by the death of Roland Ratzenberger during a qualifying accident at Imola but would not and could not accede to Prof. Watkins’ pleas for him to hang up his helmet and retire. One day later, on May 1 1994, Senna was killed when his Williams-Renault struck the wall at the Tamburello corner at approx. 190mph.
One of my favourite books is Professor Watkins’ ‘Life at the Limit: Triumph and Tragedy in Formula One’ (Macmillan) but I can rarely get through his chapter on Senna’s death without a lump in my throat.
The ‘Prof’ was one of those amazing people who quietly goes about their business and leaves the world a much better place – he may never have won a Formula One race but he is no less a champion of the sport.
If you’d like to learn more about him, a number of well-written obituaries appeared in the Guardian, The Telegraph and The New York Times, and on the BBC and official F1 websites.
Something old, something new
There’s something very interesting and beautiful about these old cameras I spotted at a car boot sale.
I have a confession to make and some of you are not going to like it.
OK…*deep breath*…I’m old-fashioned. There, I said it.
Selectively old-fashioned, I must add. It’s not that I believe that a woman’s place is in the home (unless that’s where she wants to be) or that children should be seen and not heard. No, my penchant for the past relates to modern technology.
I get that, in certain circumstances, these much-coveted gadgets have their place. If you’re stuck in hospital or otherwise immobilised for a few months, having 1,000 books at your fingertips in one handy, little tablet can be a godsend. Likewise, smartphones are a clever way for busy corporate folk to have their inbox cleared by the end of the commute to work; and we can all come up with a list of situations in which personal music devices like the iPod are a valuable tool for drowning out the hustle and bustle of daily life.
However, I can’t help but feel a little sad that, in the clamour to be cool, a large proportion of the next generation is completely oblivious to the charm of what went before.
The thing is, I like books. I like the feel of them, I like thumbing through the pages and I like being able to tell from the crease in the spine how much I have left to read. I love going into a bookshop and browsing the shelves, leafing through various titles before eventually deciding which one I can’t leave behind.
You can keep your Kindle, here’s my ‘to do’ list.
It’s all very well going onto iTunes to get the latest album but that cannot compare with the excitement of bringing a new CD home, eagerly opening it up, sliding out the inlay and studying the artwork, photos and, if you’re lucky, lyrics while the music fills the room around you.
When I first began the unending chore of trying to turn a glorified field into some semblance of a garden, my first port of call was the stack of books left behind by my grandmother covering everything from design, lawn care, plant types and the gardening year.
A generation from now, what will we have to pass down to our children? An external hard drive filled with a mish-mash of photo, video and text files?
Doesn’t sound very exciting, does it?
Personally, I hope my grandchildren will be able to flick through my now steadily growing collection of cookbooks, deciphering handwritten notes and figuring out from the splash marks and stains which recipes were frequently sought out.
My mother has a box of old photographs from the 1980s and early ’90s. The fashion is terrible and the hairstyles ridiculous but whenever that box is opened, laughter isn’t far behind. Digital photography has many, many advantages but perhaps one of its disadvantages is its ability to eliminate that most favourite item of the nostalgia trip, the dodgy photo.
Nowadays, instead of a box brimming with cheek-reddening, giggle-inducing doozies, we have a collection of only our best and favourite photos – a carefully framed version of ourselves to present to the outside world.
Oh, that is unless your friends capture a mortifying snap or two of you. In that case, no amount of photo ripping can make those babies disappear!
Technology has made our lives so much easier but everything has its place. Everything in moderation. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.
Keeping up the family tradition
Grey eyes taking in the view at the Capilano Suspension Bridge in Vancouver.
I’ve never really liked the colour of my eyes.
In the grand scheme of things, they fall into the category of blue but, really, they’re a nondescript, wishy-washy, slate grey – manky grey, it was usually called.
It was never really a big issue until just before I became a teenager when I watched a film called ‘North’ starring a young Elijah Wood and those impossible Hollywood blues of his.
I’d never seen eyes like it – the azure of French seas on a sunny July afternoon – and became all too aware of my own, which resembled the drab, dull and overcast sky of rainy Irish Sunday. Was that really his natural eye colour? How could that be? Why weren’t mine like that? What was wrong with them?
Since then, each of the many, many models staring out from the pages of magazines with their bright, luminescent blue eyes has been like Nelson from The Simpsons, heartlessly pointing at me and sniggering, ‘ha ha!’
Recently I was talking to my mother about the Stafford side of our family tree. She mentioned that her father had an aunt (my great-great aunt), Mary Kate, who went off to America and nobody ever knew what happened to her.
We had a look online at the Irish censuses of 1901 and 1911 (via the National Archives) and there she was: Mary Kate Stafford.
We then stumbled upon the website of the Statue of Liberty-Ellis Island Foundation, which allows access to the records of all those who sailed into Ellis Island/Port of New York. Guess what a quick search turned up?
Aged 22, Mary Kate boarded The Cedric in Queenstown (Cobh), Co. Cork, and set off for a new life, arriving at Ellis Island on May 22 1911. On the ship’s manifest it says she paid her fare herself, she was going to join her uncle Frank in Chicago, she was 5′ 7″, had brown hair and her eyes were…grey!
My heart skipped a beat when I saw that. Immediately a switch flicked in my mind as this family connection, this unexpected link to my past, saw dislike quickly kicked to the kerb by pride.
Hollywood blues are SO last year. I’ve got me a set of Stafford steely greys and I absolutely love them!
The three very different amigos
(From left) Jack, Dora and Enzo enjoying one of their walks.
Ever since my misfit of a Labrador decided to snap the metal clasp on his chain and go for a three-mile wander about the parish, he’s been ‘banished’ to my mother’s house to think about what he’s done.
Still mildly enamoured with him, I head down there a few times a week to take him for a walk, bringing the two resident white German Shepherds along for the stroll.
Well, I say a stroll but it’s more like a manic, run-for-your-life dash around the field at break-neck pace.
I tried to bring them on the road once but soon found myself starring in a comedy scene as they spotted another dog and tried to take off after it with me flailing along behind, desperately trying to cling on to three leads and dig my heels in to slow them down.
So now they get to run riot around the field, gleefully galloping here, there and everywhere.
Although some people don’t believe that dogs have personalities, having watched our three amigos closely, I’m firmly in the camp that’s convinced that they do. With one girl and two boys, rivalries and flare-ups are just the beginning of it!
Dirt-loving Dora looking clean for a change.
Dora
As the eldest and only female, Dora is undisputed queen bee; a ‘don’t call me, I’ll call you’ kinda girl who might come over when you call her name, but only if she feels like it. Despite her beautiful, white, long-haired coat, Dora adores water – muddy water where possible – and always returns from her walk covered in brown splash marks and splotches. She pays little attention to Enzo as he follows her around and ‘plays’ with Jack at every given opportunity by galloping towards him and trying to bite him or knock him down into the dirt. Also loves finding dead animals and is a dedicated bird assassin.
Jack as a puppy…before he grew into his ears.
Jack
Once the head of the household, Jack seems rather put out by Enzo’s presence. While the two used to constantly fight, they’ve now learned to live with each other…as long as Enzo doesn’t get too close to Dora. The most obedient of the three, Jack will frequently return to my side as the other two continue to run about and never goes into the yard without me when we get back. He craves attention and yelps loudly (and repeatedly) if you smooth any of the others and not him. After being taken out by Dora numerous times, Jack has finally learned he can avoid getting hit by standing directly behind me – which is slightly terrifying when you’re standing there watching something that resembles a polar bear heading straight for you at speed!
Enzo relaxing in the sunshine after a busy afternoon playing with new toys.
Enzo
The baby of the group, Enzo is a ball of disobedient energy. Although smaller than the other two, he is by far the fastest and strongest and has no problem squaring up to Jack. Whether you call him curious or a free spirit, he is the one that goes exploring and rarely comes back when called. He tries in vain to get Dora’s attention by nipping at her coat, which provokes Jack into intervening. Enzo lets you know he wants attention by running straight at you then jumping, landing at your feet and rubbing against your legs with enough force to push you over. Can’t stop jumping on people or chewing things, loves squeaky toys.
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