It has been almost one hundred years (97) since our Uncle Jack was killed in action in a military engagement near the city of Thessolonica ( Salonica ) in Greece in October 1916 during the 1914/1918 War.
Although we referred to him as our uncle he had died many years before myself , my sister and brothers ,( the children of Jack's own sister ) were born.
We had planned for years to visit his grave .
At last , thanks to the inititive of the youngest of our generation , the skill of the next generation and the internet....we were ready to go.....
Five of us left Dublin Airport and flew to Athens on the 23 rd May...arrived in Athens late in the evening and took two taxis (maximum per cab 4...there were 5 of us ).
The whole trip had been planned in advance down to the last detail..
Hotel in Athens 2 nights....we had our meals in the rooftop cafe/bar of the Acropolis beautique(?) Hotel...which had , of course , perfect views of the aforesaid Acropolis and the Panthoen(word check..please ?)
Metro to mainline station
Train tickets booked to Thessolonica (6 hours approx 350 miles north of Athens )
Hotel Thess. 2 nights ,
Car hire for Sunday trip to grave site ,.All had been arranged in advance by my brother and his son.
Beautiful but rugged countryside between Athens and Thessolonica ....lots of road building and tunnelling ...work-in-progress could be seen from the train...steep mountain gradients ....even snow on distant slopes ...train bursting suddenly into dark tunnels and just as suddenly out again into blinding sunlight....down ear-popping decents....we could see the end of the long long train as it curled around the bends behind us....very little sign of human or animal life on the rocky slopes....
Our train eventually rolled into our destination ....Thessolonica about 5 pm.
Another perfect arrangement , we found our hotel (El Greco ) not too far from the station.
The hire-car was delivered about 11 am on Sunday...I had already chickened out of driving and my youngest brother , as had by now become the norm , volunteered to drive .
We were given 'local' directions to the gravesite by the Hotel receptionist and we already had directions from the internet.
So we set off ,one brother driving , another ,''.a renowned nautical navigator '' navigating.
We had been informed by the hotel clerk that the gravesite we were looking for was probably over the border in BULGARIA....
Armed with this information and the site was about 65 (miles?/kilometers?) from Thessolonica itself after driving through more beautiful but rugged countryside ( and at this point may I genuinely congratulate our driver and navigator for coping on strange roads ,in the heat , in a strange car ( a medium size Kia ).
After negotiating bumpy roads , unfamiliar roundabouts, sign posts (mainly in Greek) about 80 (miles ?) out we came to the Bulgarian border post, presented our passports to not-too-suspicious border guards....only to discover when we crossed into Bulgaria that our destination was in Greece afterall.
We recrossed the border showed our passports again to the now- confused border guards (as we were the only people around ....we probably were the most exciting thing they had experienced that Sunday.
We eventually found grave site , having driven down the equivellent of an Irish boreen ,and disturbed a Greek wedding in a local church.,a small low-profile sign stating simply '' Military Graves'', pointing to an even smaller track...
But when we found the graveyard site we were amazed to see ,among non-descript rough countryside ,with some small farming holding...that the site ,about 1 to 2 acres(?)...perfectly kept , about 100 to 150 graves neatly laid out ,clearly marked , grass neatly and newly cut , colourful flowers and shrubs growing on each grave and overall the tall conifers , known as ''graveyard'trees.
Despite being in what was almost a wilderness the scene looked as if the caretaker had only left the site minutes before we arrived ....There was even a gentle friendly graveyard dog , with a bronze medal on his collar ...where he came from who knows..
So we ....all five of us over sixty five stood at the graveside of :
Corporal John (Jack)Nolan ,
Killed in Action ,
3rd Oct 1916
In an engagement in a battle known as ''the capture of Yenikoi''
He was 18 years of age , the only son of Tom and Kate Nolan , the brother of Kathleen Curran (nee Nolan ) and Carmel Byrne (nee Nolan).
Of no.4 Tram Villas . Terenure .
When Jack died ,as he was the only son of Tom and Kate Nolan that branch of the Nolan name died with him....but as his two sisters between them had eight children (seven surviving ) these in turn have about thirty (30 ) children between them ( Jack's grandnieces and nephews )...if we start counting THEIR children we are into the realms of geometric progressions......
So Jack Nolan will never be '' a stranger without even a name , hidden forever behind some dark frame in an old photograph ......''
Having seen this graveyard and the pristine condition it is being kept in the line from the rememberance poem does have some truth:
'' From the going down of the sun ...and in the morning
we will remember them ''
at least they are being remembered and not just by their families...
So...we found our way back to Thessalonica, a beautiful city by the way , happy young people dancing and singing in a city square that opened on to the seafront a wonderful (if quick) sunset,
back to Athens ...back to Dublin...back to reality...
I want to thank all my siblings ,particularly my brother and his son for an experience I will never forget....
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Two more gone...
I've never read a word of the writings of either Maeve Binchy or Con Houlihan but having read what has been written about each of them since their deaths within the past week I very much regret that I missed reading at least some of their writings while they were still alive.
Although Maeve Binchy may not have been my kind of writer the article written by Kevin Myers in the Irish Independent last week was a real eye- opener. Apparently she was a very genuine person , without pretentions , who genuinely cheered up all those she met and only her closests friends were aware of her painful condition
Con Houlihan likewise seems to have been a marvellous character ( literary Michael O'Muiraracheartig ){?} and the snippets of some of his articles I've read since his death are as poetic and articulate as Paddy Kavanagh ( and generally a lot more cheerful) ,the description for example of the last day he spent on the bog with jis father , before he left home to take up his career.I had every opportunity to read Con's articles as we always 'took' the Evening Press ( I even remember Joe Sherwood )
and I often heard my brothers discussing his writings but as I had no i9nterest whatsoever in Sport I never actually read his column....not reailsing that the actual sporting content was sometimes only about 25% of the piece and the rest was glorious stuff , just like Paddy Kavanagh when he was '' film critic'' for the Catholic Standard ( Kavanagh knew little about films and absolutly nothing about nothing about film making but this did not deterr him from spending many years as film critic for thst paper.
But Con genuinely loved all sports so much that when he described a sport the real fans knew that he was as keen as they were and his involvement came across in his writing.
They have left us a great legacy...RIP
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Joe Goes on the Trail to Santa Fe......
Tuesday Jan 17th Dublin Airport ...,ESTA worked marvellously ,no need to show my passport or papers , even for the stopover for 'change of equipment ' in Atlanta.So ...almost the very first person I saw on arrival in the USA at Dallas/Fort Worth airport was my beautiful three-year-old grandaughter .Yes , before I even collected my luggage , there she was.... dancing in her red ballet-shoes , entertaining the travel-weary passengers as they waited at the luggage roundabout......
What a welcome to Texas.....?
With my son , his 'dancing queen', my daughter-in-law , and the sleeping 8 month -old baby girl the old Honda Accord had us in Denton in about 40 minutes.
Denton ....a large town roughly in a 30 mile triangle between Dallas and Fort Worth , Texas . Spacious and flat with no high rise buildings except the 'twin towers' of the of the accomodation apartments of the local university , formerly known as the Womens University of Texas .
These buildings can be used as a landmark for anyone unused to the area .
Shortly after arriving at my son's home I was informed that we were all travelling to Santa Fe in New Mexico which was about 600 miles from Denton as he and his wife had planned a short skiing holiday in the area .
We travelled by night in the old Honda Accord which was still going strong although tending to cough , from time to time .( they had originally planned to have their new car for the trip but this had not worked out .)
The Texas landscape slipped by in the dark , signposts for familiar town-names appeared in the headlights , Fort Worth , Abeline , Waco , Amarillo ....we made very good time , our two little ones sleeping peacefully in their car seats .....until we passed near the town ( ?) of Memphis (Tx) and encountered a speed-trap , apparently a 45mph zone followed by a brief 40mph zone and then back to a 45mph zone . We were stopped by a very surly agressive policeman (cop) who seemed to me to be ready for trouble .....a young family ; two babies asleep in the back , a young couple , and an old 'fart' nodding off in the front seat ,in an old family car ......no quarter given by this hero , a full speeding (44 mph in a 40 mph zone ) plus an additional charge because the address on the licence had not been changed to their new address).
We stayed overnight at a motel , I think it was on the outskirts of Amarillo and (very..early next morning ) my two grand daughters paid me a visit ...no alarm clocks required...we had great fun watching early morning TV and crawling around the floor....
As we drove on through the Texas landscape , absolutely flat, I have often wondered why this state is often described as having a BIG SKY ,I used to think ..a sky is a sky ...how can it be big or small ?But now I see , having such a distant skyline the sky is like a huge umbrella , no trees , no vegetation , not even cactus , occasional armardillo road-kill...wind- farms were the only items of interest .The long-long freight trains with up to a hundred rail-cars ,that could take as long as 15 minutes to pass a given spot ( we stopped for one and the driver gave the children a blast of the train-horn as a salute....
In the distance we began to see mountain ranges ....the Rockies.....New Mexico....Santa Fe ( Fe meaning Faith ?)
The town (city?) is the capital of New Mexico , is 7000 feet above sea level , and local building restrictions do not allow high rise buildings and most structures , domestic and commercial have to be built in the fashion of the original ADOBE houses , used by the native Indians .
It was amazing to see all these shops , offices , motels , churches built in the style and with the materials of the past and modern inside...
As we drove around I wondered why the countryside seemed so familiar to me until I realised that I had seen sooo many westerns in the cinema that I felt that I had been there before...., tumbleweed , arid landscape , rough vegetation ( chaparral ? )
We drove high up into the mountains , through beautiful scenery , to an ear-popping 10,000 feet .
My son and my daughter-in-law went skiing , my three-year-old grandaughter went to her mini-ski childcare and I hung out with my 8 month old grandaughter . We had great fun in a cafe overlooking the slopes , she proved to be a real 'babe-magnet' , making eye-contact and smiling at everyone and people found her irresisable....ok, ok some of the 'babes' were in their seventies like me and yes some of the 'babes' were even MEN....
We visited the market square where the native Indians displayed their wares in pottery , painting , leather , jewellery and fabric....
On our journey back to Denton we travelled through Alberqueque , a seemingly never- ending
town ....we travelled the whole 600 miles in one day....I tip my hat to the two drivers for their patience and concentration on a wonderful trip and a very special tribute to two marvellous little ones who did not complain on the long , long , journey home ,about 10 hours....
Aother surprise a few days later ,the Fort Worth Rodeo , ridin',ropin' wrestlin'bulls what fun , there must have been many broken bones ,but the bulls and the broncos seemed to enjoy it ....
I mustn't forget the dear old Honda......two days after we got home ....they changed her for a brand new Volkswagen Passat......now there's gratitude !!!!!
Arrived back in Ireland safely , love you and miss you all
THANKS.
What a welcome to Texas.....?
With my son , his 'dancing queen', my daughter-in-law , and the sleeping 8 month -old baby girl the old Honda Accord had us in Denton in about 40 minutes.
Denton ....a large town roughly in a 30 mile triangle between Dallas and Fort Worth , Texas . Spacious and flat with no high rise buildings except the 'twin towers' of the of the accomodation apartments of the local university , formerly known as the Womens University of Texas .
These buildings can be used as a landmark for anyone unused to the area .
Shortly after arriving at my son's home I was informed that we were all travelling to Santa Fe in New Mexico which was about 600 miles from Denton as he and his wife had planned a short skiing holiday in the area .
We travelled by night in the old Honda Accord which was still going strong although tending to cough , from time to time .( they had originally planned to have their new car for the trip but this had not worked out .)
The Texas landscape slipped by in the dark , signposts for familiar town-names appeared in the headlights , Fort Worth , Abeline , Waco , Amarillo ....we made very good time , our two little ones sleeping peacefully in their car seats .....until we passed near the town ( ?) of Memphis (Tx) and encountered a speed-trap , apparently a 45mph zone followed by a brief 40mph zone and then back to a 45mph zone . We were stopped by a very surly agressive policeman (cop) who seemed to me to be ready for trouble .....a young family ; two babies asleep in the back , a young couple , and an old 'fart' nodding off in the front seat ,in an old family car ......no quarter given by this hero , a full speeding (44 mph in a 40 mph zone ) plus an additional charge because the address on the licence had not been changed to their new address).
We stayed overnight at a motel , I think it was on the outskirts of Amarillo and (very..early next morning ) my two grand daughters paid me a visit ...no alarm clocks required...we had great fun watching early morning TV and crawling around the floor....
As we drove on through the Texas landscape , absolutely flat, I have often wondered why this state is often described as having a BIG SKY ,I used to think ..a sky is a sky ...how can it be big or small ?But now I see , having such a distant skyline the sky is like a huge umbrella , no trees , no vegetation , not even cactus , occasional armardillo road-kill...wind- farms were the only items of interest .The long-long freight trains with up to a hundred rail-cars ,that could take as long as 15 minutes to pass a given spot ( we stopped for one and the driver gave the children a blast of the train-horn as a salute....
In the distance we began to see mountain ranges ....the Rockies.....New Mexico....Santa Fe ( Fe meaning Faith ?)
The town (city?) is the capital of New Mexico , is 7000 feet above sea level , and local building restrictions do not allow high rise buildings and most structures , domestic and commercial have to be built in the fashion of the original ADOBE houses , used by the native Indians .
It was amazing to see all these shops , offices , motels , churches built in the style and with the materials of the past and modern inside...
As we drove around I wondered why the countryside seemed so familiar to me until I realised that I had seen sooo many westerns in the cinema that I felt that I had been there before...., tumbleweed , arid landscape , rough vegetation ( chaparral ? )
We drove high up into the mountains , through beautiful scenery , to an ear-popping 10,000 feet .
My son and my daughter-in-law went skiing , my three-year-old grandaughter went to her mini-ski childcare and I hung out with my 8 month old grandaughter . We had great fun in a cafe overlooking the slopes , she proved to be a real 'babe-magnet' , making eye-contact and smiling at everyone and people found her irresisable....ok, ok some of the 'babes' were in their seventies like me and yes some of the 'babes' were even MEN....
We visited the market square where the native Indians displayed their wares in pottery , painting , leather , jewellery and fabric....
On our journey back to Denton we travelled through Alberqueque , a seemingly never- ending
town ....we travelled the whole 600 miles in one day....I tip my hat to the two drivers for their patience and concentration on a wonderful trip and a very special tribute to two marvellous little ones who did not complain on the long , long , journey home ,about 10 hours....
Aother surprise a few days later ,the Fort Worth Rodeo , ridin',ropin' wrestlin'bulls what fun , there must have been many broken bones ,but the bulls and the broncos seemed to enjoy it ....
I mustn't forget the dear old Honda......two days after we got home ....they changed her for a brand new Volkswagen Passat......now there's gratitude !!!!!
Arrived back in Ireland safely , love you and miss you all
THANKS.
Friday, December 16, 2011
The Game
As JP or ( 'JayPee' as his friends called him ) cycled toward the hostel , the rain/sleet whipped his face . He wondered , not for the first time , how he got himself into this situation . He COULD be at home now sitting by a blazing fire , possibly eating one of his mother' s freshly baked , hot , apple tarts , instead , here he was heading for the Morning Star hostel to do his two-hour voluntary duty . One of his work collegues had ' talked him into' joining the Legion of Mary and volunteering to do at least two hours per week helping out at the nearby hostel 'for down-and-outs' , as homeless people were referred to , at the time.
He was a little bit later than usual and most of the men ( it was an exclusivly male hostel ), had already 'checked-in' , which meant paying a six-pence or a shilling , deemed a fair amount for that time in the early sixties . No one was ever refused admission for not having enough but most of the men were able to raise that small amount .The other conditions were simply that , if required , they should take a shower in the hostel before being assigned a bed , that they behave in a responsible way .
Recently JP had spent his evenings in the hostel serving tea or conversing with the men and lately he had begun to play chess with a man called John C . John turned out to be an expert chess player who , on occasions after about five or six moves was able to inform JP that he (JP) could not win that particular game . John C had come from a very well off family and , JP learned later , had probably fallen on hard times due to alcoholism and a psyciatric disorder caused by drink.
The huge open blazing fire had the usual compliment of men sitting in a semi-circle around it . Some were holding their outer clothes to dry in front of the flames .JP noted the two men whom he knew to be 'deaf and dumb' 'chatting 'together beside the fire using sign language to converse animatedly with each other , completely oblivious to the noisey clamour around them of up to 150 other homeless men filled the large room with noise . This was probably the only communication each of those men had had all day .
John C was waiting as usual , chess board ready , to once again demolish JP's feeble strategy and latest cunning opening gambit .JP apoligised for being late , wondering what would have happened if he had not arrived at all ,would John C have waited all evening watching the door ?
In fact tonight would be the last night that JP would be able to visit , having been given a new assignment to help set up a new Presidium in another part of the city for an even more marginalised group of people.
As the chess game continued John C , as usual ,carefully wrote down on a grubby piece of paper , each move made . Apparently he recorded every game he played in this way .
An obviously very intelligent man , the game of chess must have had a special significance for him . Did all the pieces represent the world as he saw it ? The King , of course , was AUTHORITY , being protected by castle walls , white knights and black bishops , controlled by a powerful Queen using the pawns ( the ordinary people ) as ' gun- fodder'.
When the game was over , with JP the loser again they shook hands as they did after each time they played .When JP told him that he would not be coming back John C showed no reaction , but as he walked away , JP heard John C say '' thanks for coming Paul ''.It was the first time that John C had used his name and how did the old chess player know that ''Paul'' was his middle initial ? A small mystery in an almost forgotten incident when two different worlds meet.
He was a little bit later than usual and most of the men ( it was an exclusivly male hostel ), had already 'checked-in' , which meant paying a six-pence or a shilling , deemed a fair amount for that time in the early sixties . No one was ever refused admission for not having enough but most of the men were able to raise that small amount .The other conditions were simply that , if required , they should take a shower in the hostel before being assigned a bed , that they behave in a responsible way .
Recently JP had spent his evenings in the hostel serving tea or conversing with the men and lately he had begun to play chess with a man called John C . John turned out to be an expert chess player who , on occasions after about five or six moves was able to inform JP that he (JP) could not win that particular game . John C had come from a very well off family and , JP learned later , had probably fallen on hard times due to alcoholism and a psyciatric disorder caused by drink.
The huge open blazing fire had the usual compliment of men sitting in a semi-circle around it . Some were holding their outer clothes to dry in front of the flames .JP noted the two men whom he knew to be 'deaf and dumb' 'chatting 'together beside the fire using sign language to converse animatedly with each other , completely oblivious to the noisey clamour around them of up to 150 other homeless men filled the large room with noise . This was probably the only communication each of those men had had all day .
John C was waiting as usual , chess board ready , to once again demolish JP's feeble strategy and latest cunning opening gambit .JP apoligised for being late , wondering what would have happened if he had not arrived at all ,would John C have waited all evening watching the door ?
In fact tonight would be the last night that JP would be able to visit , having been given a new assignment to help set up a new Presidium in another part of the city for an even more marginalised group of people.
As the chess game continued John C , as usual ,carefully wrote down on a grubby piece of paper , each move made . Apparently he recorded every game he played in this way .
An obviously very intelligent man , the game of chess must have had a special significance for him . Did all the pieces represent the world as he saw it ? The King , of course , was AUTHORITY , being protected by castle walls , white knights and black bishops , controlled by a powerful Queen using the pawns ( the ordinary people ) as ' gun- fodder'.
When the game was over , with JP the loser again they shook hands as they did after each time they played .When JP told him that he would not be coming back John C showed no reaction , but as he walked away , JP heard John C say '' thanks for coming Paul ''.It was the first time that John C had used his name and how did the old chess player know that ''Paul'' was his middle initial ? A small mystery in an almost forgotten incident when two different worlds meet.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
The Wedding.......
It must have been about this time last year when the young couple began to plan their wedding .Living in Zurich , he being Irish and she being French and deciding that they would like to marry in Biarritz meant immediatly that the logistics of planning the day would be even more complex than a 'normal' wedding and that the couple themselves would have to carry the main burden of arrangements and costs.
Last Saturday week it happened , the most perfect day for us all .
Arrival.
The Irish contingent started to arrive at Biarritz Airport on Friday 1st Sept.I was among the first group and we were met by the bride's parents and sister and ferried to the house that we had rented for the occasion.There were , of course , some incidents with Ryanair (more anon) and a 'Jacque Tati' moment when we endevoured to fold a state-of-the-art carrycot/pushchair ( at one point there were about eight people standing around the carrycot ,all , except myself , speaking French and each of us making suggestions of which button to press or which lever to pull in order to collapse the offending vehicle . )
When we first saw the house we could hardly believe our eyes . A lovely house literally on the beach in Anglet .Large , ultra modern , six bedrooms , two bathrooms ,a huge livingroom cum kitchen with a perfect picture window looking straight out onto the sea like living in a constant moving painting , a large patio door led on to a deck outside which went all around the house , a balcony completed the picture .
Outside hot and cold showers , the owner had also left surf boards , so the more adventurous of our group were able to immediatly avail of the huge waves rolling in from the Bay of Biscay on to Marinella Beach. ( Two of our number did discover however that the signs on the beach reading ' DANGER COURANTS ', was not a warning about the imminent arrival of our family , but a serious warning of the genuinely dangerous currents on the local beach .).
By Monday most of our group had arrived , we calculated that at our peak we would be 21 or 22 people in number ( 7 or 8 children including 2 tiny babies under 3 months ).
Some of the family travelled from Texas , some from Dubai , Zurich , Dublin , and Athy....some came by car , some by train , apart from those of us who flew....
We began to explore the area , first of all meeting again with the bride's extended family . We were greeted warmly and invited to meals . As I am unable to speak French at all I was not able to fully participate in the conversation but I think that my wife ( www) who resurrected her school French fully compensated for my ignorance . She used the language as often as possible , even when she knew that some of her listeners fully understood English , she enjoyed it .
The bride's gracious parents and her gentle sister were the perfect hosts having been fully involved in all local preparations and we thank them sincerely.
The Wedding Day.
The weather for the first few days was mediochre but as the wedding day itself approached it improved dramatically beautiful sunshine showed Anglet and Biarritz in all its glory . The excitment inside the house grew , starting with 'the hairdo's' for all the females including the youngest , the men were a bit calmer ....the cars started to arrive ....as the wedding ceremonies were to be in two parts .....first the CIVIC marriage in the Anglet Town Hall , performed by the Mayor of Anglet followed an hour later in the Eglise Sainte Marie , Anglet ,performed by Abbe Peyo Bordagaray .Because of the numbers involved we had to travel to the Town Hall in relays and it so happened that when the car came to collect myself we became stuck in traffic and consequently I arrived late for the civic ceremony and the Mayor had completed the marriage of my son and his beautiful new wife but somehow my wonderful wonderful wife ( www) managed to persuade the Mayor, in her newfound French , to REPEAT the ceremony for me .......what a remarkable gesture.....truly a strenghtening of Hiberno/French connections...for which I will be forever grateful ......the scene ...the couple sitting in high-backed throne-like chairs ,the groom sitting tall and handsome beside his incredibly beautiful ,petite young wife ....the Mayor in his official regalia ,his wide red-white-and blue sash.....speaking entirely in French of course, for THE SECOND time performed the marriage.There were about 50 family and friends present and the Mayor who fitted perfectly my image of a typical French town mayor ...tall ,portly , slightly bearded , looking imperious....who wished to discuss Rugby...but because of my lack of knowledge of both language and the sport I was unable to oblige...
And then to the Church .....the sun was now ' burning in the sky ' , the nervous best man ( the groom's brother ) , the groomsmen nervously walking up and down , all guests arriving , the organ playing , the marvellous choir ...the groom also nervous .......and the arrival of the bride with her father , preceded by her 5 Demoiselles d'honneur...Victoria, Rebecca , Sophie , Amber , Gracie .......but wait ....? some one is missing ....ah le Garcon d'honneur ...who , bureaucracy decreed , because his passport was out of date , could not travel with his parents to another European Union country and even though all the rest of his family were travelling to this wedding , this was NOT an emergency in the eyes of the bureaucrats ....God only knows what mischief this four year old would get up to in France....
A marvellously tear-jerking ceremony, the choir excelled , all in French of course , but this for me added to the whole athmosphere....and Luke Kelly's '' The Sun is Burning '' gave it the Irish touch at the very end....
One surprise....when Rob , Stevo , and Sammy decided to have a 'SILENT' collection...
Everyone , including the Maids of Honour behaved themselves....I'm sorry that I am unable to descride the brides lovely dress , but I know that photo's to come will take care of that....
The Reception
By this time I was beginning to realise just how much detail the couple had gone into when planning their wedding , as well as doing their jobs and attending other friends weddings during the year......but in terms of entertainment the best was still to come...
The reception was booked at Espace de Ocean , Esplanade de Docteurs Genthile , Anglet or in other words a reception centre right on the beach in Anglet.The preliminaries were served on the roof-top area , fully catered , drinks served , all overlooking the sea , in glorious sunshine ,just like being on the top deck of a luxury cruise-liner , everyone relaxed and mingled , the bride and groom arrived and were beginning to relax themselves seeing how all their plans were working out so well .
We all went down to the meal , speeches , entertainment the day could not have gone better, we thanked God and the planners . And I thank those who came , some from long distances , some with great difficulty , the bride's relatives and all my own family who by being there helped make the occasion such a success .......God Bless you all
The Aftermath
The following day , Sunday , we had a barbecue on the deck outside the beach house , beer , blazing sunshine , beef burgers , bangers , more beer , kebabs and no one over-ate or got drunk....wow......
We had still a week left to see once again the sights around Biarritz and the little towns and villages around the area particularly St.Jean de Luc and Espellette world famous for its little red peppers , the weather remained glorious , strolling on the beach watching the surfers riding in on the huge breakers , making sand-castles with the children , it has added about ten years to my life to see my work together so well to make wishes come true....
Ryanair
The fact that Ryanair fly into Biarritz helped enomously to make this wedding work but like almost everyone who flies with that airljne we had our Ryanair experience .We thought that we had obeyed all the rules re; bags , weight , boarding passes ...we had passed through security , with all the baby stuff , some of the family obviously had priority boarding because of the baby ....however myself and my youngest daughter were almost last on board...just before we presented our boarding passes my daughter was called aside and told to test her hand luggage in the 'measuring box',she was not permitted to force the bag in and was told that as the bag did not fit she must pay €40 cash extra AND hand over the bag , I was also called over to be treated likewise , even though many other passengers , some whose 'carry on' bags could hardly fit in the overhead compartment on the aircraft when they eventually got on board, were allowed to pass unchallanged . The company seem to leave it to individual members of staff to decide who gets challanged and of course when one is about to board a flight as almost the last passenger he or she has no opportunity to resist or rejig the baggage and the choice is pay up or don't fly and they then take your most precious items off you and dump them in the hold.
I was one of those people who cheered O'Leary and wanted Ryanair to get the second terminal at Dublin ....but no more ..I can see now with their sneaky, catchpenny , take it or leave it policies now enthusiastically pursued by the most humble members of staff , Michael O'Leary
would have turned the second terminal into a hell-hole and screams of pain and anger would daily emanate from there courtesy of Ryanair.....please please ...don't let them get their hands on it ....
Finally....or Finale
The family has dispersed....back to their countries , jobs, normal family life.......in Biarritz just like here the evenings are drawing in ....its getting colder...the famous light house is casting its beams out to sea , along the now- deserted beaches ,the huge leaves scraping the pavement and even the tiny sparrows have gone elsewhere for their food scraps. The house on the beach is probably deserted , shuttered the huge winter waves rolling in from the Gulf of Biscay the only sound .........but listen ..hark ....what's that other sound I hear ? Yes ! Its the sound of the laughter of children AND adults that will echo , maybe forever , from that wonderful place....
Its time for this old man to head back to his papers......
Last Saturday week it happened , the most perfect day for us all .
Arrival.
The Irish contingent started to arrive at Biarritz Airport on Friday 1st Sept.I was among the first group and we were met by the bride's parents and sister and ferried to the house that we had rented for the occasion.There were , of course , some incidents with Ryanair (more anon) and a 'Jacque Tati' moment when we endevoured to fold a state-of-the-art carrycot/pushchair ( at one point there were about eight people standing around the carrycot ,all , except myself , speaking French and each of us making suggestions of which button to press or which lever to pull in order to collapse the offending vehicle . )
When we first saw the house we could hardly believe our eyes . A lovely house literally on the beach in Anglet .Large , ultra modern , six bedrooms , two bathrooms ,a huge livingroom cum kitchen with a perfect picture window looking straight out onto the sea like living in a constant moving painting , a large patio door led on to a deck outside which went all around the house , a balcony completed the picture .
Outside hot and cold showers , the owner had also left surf boards , so the more adventurous of our group were able to immediatly avail of the huge waves rolling in from the Bay of Biscay on to Marinella Beach. ( Two of our number did discover however that the signs on the beach reading ' DANGER COURANTS ', was not a warning about the imminent arrival of our family , but a serious warning of the genuinely dangerous currents on the local beach .).
By Monday most of our group had arrived , we calculated that at our peak we would be 21 or 22 people in number ( 7 or 8 children including 2 tiny babies under 3 months ).
Some of the family travelled from Texas , some from Dubai , Zurich , Dublin , and Athy....some came by car , some by train , apart from those of us who flew....
We began to explore the area , first of all meeting again with the bride's extended family . We were greeted warmly and invited to meals . As I am unable to speak French at all I was not able to fully participate in the conversation but I think that my wife ( www) who resurrected her school French fully compensated for my ignorance . She used the language as often as possible , even when she knew that some of her listeners fully understood English , she enjoyed it .
The bride's gracious parents and her gentle sister were the perfect hosts having been fully involved in all local preparations and we thank them sincerely.
The Wedding Day.
The weather for the first few days was mediochre but as the wedding day itself approached it improved dramatically beautiful sunshine showed Anglet and Biarritz in all its glory . The excitment inside the house grew , starting with 'the hairdo's' for all the females including the youngest , the men were a bit calmer ....the cars started to arrive ....as the wedding ceremonies were to be in two parts .....first the CIVIC marriage in the Anglet Town Hall , performed by the Mayor of Anglet followed an hour later in the Eglise Sainte Marie , Anglet ,performed by Abbe Peyo Bordagaray .Because of the numbers involved we had to travel to the Town Hall in relays and it so happened that when the car came to collect myself we became stuck in traffic and consequently I arrived late for the civic ceremony and the Mayor had completed the marriage of my son and his beautiful new wife but somehow my wonderful wonderful wife ( www) managed to persuade the Mayor, in her newfound French , to REPEAT the ceremony for me .......what a remarkable gesture.....truly a strenghtening of Hiberno/French connections...for which I will be forever grateful ......the scene ...the couple sitting in high-backed throne-like chairs ,the groom sitting tall and handsome beside his incredibly beautiful ,petite young wife ....the Mayor in his official regalia ,his wide red-white-and blue sash.....speaking entirely in French of course, for THE SECOND time performed the marriage.There were about 50 family and friends present and the Mayor who fitted perfectly my image of a typical French town mayor ...tall ,portly , slightly bearded , looking imperious....who wished to discuss Rugby...but because of my lack of knowledge of both language and the sport I was unable to oblige...
And then to the Church .....the sun was now ' burning in the sky ' , the nervous best man ( the groom's brother ) , the groomsmen nervously walking up and down , all guests arriving , the organ playing , the marvellous choir ...the groom also nervous .......and the arrival of the bride with her father , preceded by her 5 Demoiselles d'honneur...Victoria, Rebecca , Sophie , Amber , Gracie .......but wait ....? some one is missing ....ah le Garcon d'honneur ...who , bureaucracy decreed , because his passport was out of date , could not travel with his parents to another European Union country and even though all the rest of his family were travelling to this wedding , this was NOT an emergency in the eyes of the bureaucrats ....God only knows what mischief this four year old would get up to in France....
A marvellously tear-jerking ceremony, the choir excelled , all in French of course , but this for me added to the whole athmosphere....and Luke Kelly's '' The Sun is Burning '' gave it the Irish touch at the very end....
One surprise....when Rob , Stevo , and Sammy decided to have a 'SILENT' collection...
Everyone , including the Maids of Honour behaved themselves....I'm sorry that I am unable to descride the brides lovely dress , but I know that photo's to come will take care of that....
The Reception
By this time I was beginning to realise just how much detail the couple had gone into when planning their wedding , as well as doing their jobs and attending other friends weddings during the year......but in terms of entertainment the best was still to come...
The reception was booked at Espace de Ocean , Esplanade de Docteurs Genthile , Anglet or in other words a reception centre right on the beach in Anglet.The preliminaries were served on the roof-top area , fully catered , drinks served , all overlooking the sea , in glorious sunshine ,just like being on the top deck of a luxury cruise-liner , everyone relaxed and mingled , the bride and groom arrived and were beginning to relax themselves seeing how all their plans were working out so well .
We all went down to the meal , speeches , entertainment the day could not have gone better, we thanked God and the planners . And I thank those who came , some from long distances , some with great difficulty , the bride's relatives and all my own family who by being there helped make the occasion such a success .......God Bless you all
The Aftermath
The following day , Sunday , we had a barbecue on the deck outside the beach house , beer , blazing sunshine , beef burgers , bangers , more beer , kebabs and no one over-ate or got drunk....wow......
We had still a week left to see once again the sights around Biarritz and the little towns and villages around the area particularly St.Jean de Luc and Espellette world famous for its little red peppers , the weather remained glorious , strolling on the beach watching the surfers riding in on the huge breakers , making sand-castles with the children , it has added about ten years to my life to see my work together so well to make wishes come true....
Ryanair
The fact that Ryanair fly into Biarritz helped enomously to make this wedding work but like almost everyone who flies with that airljne we had our Ryanair experience .We thought that we had obeyed all the rules re; bags , weight , boarding passes ...we had passed through security , with all the baby stuff , some of the family obviously had priority boarding because of the baby ....however myself and my youngest daughter were almost last on board...just before we presented our boarding passes my daughter was called aside and told to test her hand luggage in the 'measuring box',she was not permitted to force the bag in and was told that as the bag did not fit she must pay €40 cash extra AND hand over the bag , I was also called over to be treated likewise , even though many other passengers , some whose 'carry on' bags could hardly fit in the overhead compartment on the aircraft when they eventually got on board, were allowed to pass unchallanged . The company seem to leave it to individual members of staff to decide who gets challanged and of course when one is about to board a flight as almost the last passenger he or she has no opportunity to resist or rejig the baggage and the choice is pay up or don't fly and they then take your most precious items off you and dump them in the hold.
I was one of those people who cheered O'Leary and wanted Ryanair to get the second terminal at Dublin ....but no more ..I can see now with their sneaky, catchpenny , take it or leave it policies now enthusiastically pursued by the most humble members of staff , Michael O'Leary
would have turned the second terminal into a hell-hole and screams of pain and anger would daily emanate from there courtesy of Ryanair.....please please ...don't let them get their hands on it ....
Finally....or Finale
The family has dispersed....back to their countries , jobs, normal family life.......in Biarritz just like here the evenings are drawing in ....its getting colder...the famous light house is casting its beams out to sea , along the now- deserted beaches ,the huge leaves scraping the pavement and even the tiny sparrows have gone elsewhere for their food scraps. The house on the beach is probably deserted , shuttered the huge winter waves rolling in from the Gulf of Biscay the only sound .........but listen ..hark ....what's that other sound I hear ? Yes ! Its the sound of the laughter of children AND adults that will echo , maybe forever , from that wonderful place....
Its time for this old man to head back to his papers......
Thursday, December 30, 2010
The stand-off
The man only gradually became aware of the cat when he felt that SOMETHING was watching him . He had been half-sitting , half-lying , on a comfortable cushion of moss and dead leaves in the afternoon sun . The sun shone through gaps in the tall trees and the man was almost nodding off to sleep .
He had set out earlier in the day with his companions , his son , his daughter-in-law and his older brother . They had parked their car close to the sign that marked the beginning of the trail up the mountain , which would eventually lead to '' spectacular views of the surrounding countryside '' at the top.
Shortly after crossing a 'rustic' bridge and starting to ascend the trail , he realised that this excursion was not for him , so , slightly embarrassed (after all his brother WAS older than him), and not wanting to spoil the outing , he had suggested that he would find a comfortable spot , near a stream to sit and read his book and they could 'pick him up ' on their way down.
As they made their way to a likely place they passed some signs declaring '' Beware of Bears and Mountain Lions '' . He had laughed , saying that these signs were there just to add spice to the visiting tourists and that the likelyhood of these wild creatures being anywhere close to a road , was remote . He even told the old vaudville joke , '' I have a spray that keeps wild elephants away ''. The stooge answers '' But , there aren't any elephants around for THOUSANDS of miles '' , joker replies '' Yes , very effective , isn't it .''
But there was no humour in him now . The big cat ,( mountain lion ?, cougar ? ) was crouched nearby , having apparently crept out of the woods shortly after the sound of voices ceased and the man was alone .
He had looked into the eyes of big cats before , on his visits to the zoo , usually in winter-time when he was one of few visitors . He had marvelled at the design of the creatures , and the wildness in those eyes , wondering what they were thinking....
But then he had had thick iron bars separating him from the animal....
This was different , the lion ( or was it a lioness ?) was so close that he could smell the creature .
The man didn't panic or move , after all he was already an old fart with a bad heart and none of that would help . He considered shouting but as all around him was deadly quiet , because when the big cat came on the scene all the other woodland creatures , mammals , birds and even insects had gone silent , almost as if they had formed a viewing circle around the man and the cat and were awaiting the outcome , a sudden shout might cause the big cat to pounce .
What should he do ?
On the way up he and his companions had been discussing , jokingly , what one should do if suddenly confronted by a wild bear , his daughter-in-law said the 'rule' was ....stand absolutely still , the bear can't see you if you aren't moving , his brother said , no,no no,, ...if confronted by a bear ...run .., run like blazes ...bears can't run very fast .......But his son said they were BOTH wrong ....you must run AT the bear in an agressive manner the bear will ( probably...PROBABLY ), run away because he is not expecting an attack....
Even in his present predicament the man could hardly supress an hysterical giggle thinking of his response , that he would write all these suggestions down in his note-book and refer to it if attacked by a bear....
He had thrown his back pack and his greasy stetson beside the stream ...too far to reach without serious movement , not that they would be of much help if the lion attacked , his arse was growing numb , despite the moss/leaves cushion....he had to do something.
Was the cat a lion or a lioness ? , he could'nt see ...unless it turned over ....and even if it did he probably would'n t know anyway.....lionesses were more agressive , particularly if they had cubs ....no sign of cubs ...thank God for that , what he didn't need now was a brace of cubs scrambling around and putting mum more on edge.....
The big cat lowered itself , about to jump , a perfect killing machine ,the man looked deep into the yellow,wild, merciless eyes. The man was not afraid of death . Like most men of his age he had peeped surreptitiously around the corner of life and death had no real fear for him .
But the process of DYING was different .
He had expected when that happened it would take place in a warm bed surrounded by a loving family.
Not in the open at the mercy of an animal , red raw in tooth and claw , just as he had seen his own domestic cat hunting in the garden at home where small birds and field mice were the prey...
Now HE was the prey , HE was the expected meal ...
The big cat curled its lips and and spat just like his own domestic cat , only twenty ( thirty ?) times bigger.....this was it !!!!
Suddenly he got angry and started to shout ''GET AWAY YOU BITCH .......I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU.........I'M NOT WORTH EATING , I'M OLD , CRUSTY AND I'LL PROBABLY TASTE AWFUL''.....
He closed his eyes and put his hands over his face and waited for the pain....
Nothing.....he opened his eyes....the beast was gone
The cowardly woodland creatures started to make their noises again and in the distance he could hear the faint sound of human voices as his companions made their way down the trail....
He had set out earlier in the day with his companions , his son , his daughter-in-law and his older brother . They had parked their car close to the sign that marked the beginning of the trail up the mountain , which would eventually lead to '' spectacular views of the surrounding countryside '' at the top.
Shortly after crossing a 'rustic' bridge and starting to ascend the trail , he realised that this excursion was not for him , so , slightly embarrassed (after all his brother WAS older than him), and not wanting to spoil the outing , he had suggested that he would find a comfortable spot , near a stream to sit and read his book and they could 'pick him up ' on their way down.
As they made their way to a likely place they passed some signs declaring '' Beware of Bears and Mountain Lions '' . He had laughed , saying that these signs were there just to add spice to the visiting tourists and that the likelyhood of these wild creatures being anywhere close to a road , was remote . He even told the old vaudville joke , '' I have a spray that keeps wild elephants away ''. The stooge answers '' But , there aren't any elephants around for THOUSANDS of miles '' , joker replies '' Yes , very effective , isn't it .''
But there was no humour in him now . The big cat ,( mountain lion ?, cougar ? ) was crouched nearby , having apparently crept out of the woods shortly after the sound of voices ceased and the man was alone .
He had looked into the eyes of big cats before , on his visits to the zoo , usually in winter-time when he was one of few visitors . He had marvelled at the design of the creatures , and the wildness in those eyes , wondering what they were thinking....
But then he had had thick iron bars separating him from the animal....
This was different , the lion ( or was it a lioness ?) was so close that he could smell the creature .
The man didn't panic or move , after all he was already an old fart with a bad heart and none of that would help . He considered shouting but as all around him was deadly quiet , because when the big cat came on the scene all the other woodland creatures , mammals , birds and even insects had gone silent , almost as if they had formed a viewing circle around the man and the cat and were awaiting the outcome , a sudden shout might cause the big cat to pounce .
What should he do ?
On the way up he and his companions had been discussing , jokingly , what one should do if suddenly confronted by a wild bear , his daughter-in-law said the 'rule' was ....stand absolutely still , the bear can't see you if you aren't moving , his brother said , no,no no,, ...if confronted by a bear ...run .., run like blazes ...bears can't run very fast .......But his son said they were BOTH wrong ....you must run AT the bear in an agressive manner the bear will ( probably...PROBABLY ), run away because he is not expecting an attack....
Even in his present predicament the man could hardly supress an hysterical giggle thinking of his response , that he would write all these suggestions down in his note-book and refer to it if attacked by a bear....
He had thrown his back pack and his greasy stetson beside the stream ...too far to reach without serious movement , not that they would be of much help if the lion attacked , his arse was growing numb , despite the moss/leaves cushion....he had to do something.
Was the cat a lion or a lioness ? , he could'nt see ...unless it turned over ....and even if it did he probably would'n t know anyway.....lionesses were more agressive , particularly if they had cubs ....no sign of cubs ...thank God for that , what he didn't need now was a brace of cubs scrambling around and putting mum more on edge.....
The big cat lowered itself , about to jump , a perfect killing machine ,the man looked deep into the yellow,wild, merciless eyes. The man was not afraid of death . Like most men of his age he had peeped surreptitiously around the corner of life and death had no real fear for him .
But the process of DYING was different .
He had expected when that happened it would take place in a warm bed surrounded by a loving family.
Not in the open at the mercy of an animal , red raw in tooth and claw , just as he had seen his own domestic cat hunting in the garden at home where small birds and field mice were the prey...
Now HE was the prey , HE was the expected meal ...
The big cat curled its lips and and spat just like his own domestic cat , only twenty ( thirty ?) times bigger.....this was it !!!!
Suddenly he got angry and started to shout ''GET AWAY YOU BITCH .......I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU.........I'M NOT WORTH EATING , I'M OLD , CRUSTY AND I'LL PROBABLY TASTE AWFUL''.....
He closed his eyes and put his hands over his face and waited for the pain....
Nothing.....he opened his eyes....the beast was gone
The cowardly woodland creatures started to make their noises again and in the distance he could hear the faint sound of human voices as his companions made their way down the trail....
Friday, October 8, 2010
Podger and Tony
Not many people know this , but school teachers have a secret benefit-in-kind , especially primary school teachers . Most children remember all their lives , their first teacher . The first person they came to know after their parents and immediate family .
Larkfield School on Clareville Road in Dublin was my primary school , between 'babies's' school and the Primary Cert.
Our Headmaster was Mr. Sheehan , and of course , as all headmasters have , he had a nickname ....Podger . He would stand in the entrace hall , underneath the school clock each morning as we arrived , dressed in a neat three-piece suit , his waistcoat straining against his pot-belly , checking his turnip warch against the school clock for accuracy .
He had neat glasses , a pork-pie hat with front brim turned up slightly , balancing on his heels , ocasionally flexing the bamboo cane behind his back as he rapped out instructions on behaviour and appearance to each of us as we trooped in . He had a tiny trimmed moustache and rolling eyes . For all the world like Agatha Christie's description of her famous detective Hercule Piorot .
It was a well run school and although Podger was easy to characture , he was well respected .
My class teacher was a Mr. Taaffe , nicknamed 'Tony' ( it may have even been his true christian name ). A brilliant teacher , dealing with a class of about 40 ,twelve or thirteen year old boys , and still finding time to encourage youngsters to advance their education to second level ( which was by no means the norm at the time ) and even to consider third level which was unusual at the time except for the very well off .
He ran a 'tight ship'and although corporal punishment was order of the day , he seldon had to use his bamboo cane ' although I clearly remember a daywhen a note was being passed around the class with a rude word on it , the note was unfortunatly in my possession when Tony swooped . Outside , in the corridore , a few serious words of censure from Tony followed by a few 'biffs' from the bamboo cane , I seldom used rude words following that ( however with the chaos in our society at the moment I have started to use those words again ) He used tecniques well ahead of the times to encourage and motivate his pupils and advised myself at the time of the Primary cert to consider teaching as a career ( advice which I did not take , however ).
Tony often charactured Podger , but in very good humour ( Podger's son was actually in the class ).
I remember these men very well and appreciate the interest and guidance they gave all of us .
They are both probably long gone now but men like these have given a legacy to the country that is beyond measure . God Bless them.....
Larkfield School on Clareville Road in Dublin was my primary school , between 'babies's' school and the Primary Cert.
Our Headmaster was Mr. Sheehan , and of course , as all headmasters have , he had a nickname ....Podger . He would stand in the entrace hall , underneath the school clock each morning as we arrived , dressed in a neat three-piece suit , his waistcoat straining against his pot-belly , checking his turnip warch against the school clock for accuracy .
He had neat glasses , a pork-pie hat with front brim turned up slightly , balancing on his heels , ocasionally flexing the bamboo cane behind his back as he rapped out instructions on behaviour and appearance to each of us as we trooped in . He had a tiny trimmed moustache and rolling eyes . For all the world like Agatha Christie's description of her famous detective Hercule Piorot .
It was a well run school and although Podger was easy to characture , he was well respected .
My class teacher was a Mr. Taaffe , nicknamed 'Tony' ( it may have even been his true christian name ). A brilliant teacher , dealing with a class of about 40 ,twelve or thirteen year old boys , and still finding time to encourage youngsters to advance their education to second level ( which was by no means the norm at the time ) and even to consider third level which was unusual at the time except for the very well off .
He ran a 'tight ship'and although corporal punishment was order of the day , he seldon had to use his bamboo cane ' although I clearly remember a daywhen a note was being passed around the class with a rude word on it , the note was unfortunatly in my possession when Tony swooped . Outside , in the corridore , a few serious words of censure from Tony followed by a few 'biffs' from the bamboo cane , I seldom used rude words following that ( however with the chaos in our society at the moment I have started to use those words again ) He used tecniques well ahead of the times to encourage and motivate his pupils and advised myself at the time of the Primary cert to consider teaching as a career ( advice which I did not take , however ).
Tony often charactured Podger , but in very good humour ( Podger's son was actually in the class ).
I remember these men very well and appreciate the interest and guidance they gave all of us .
They are both probably long gone now but men like these have given a legacy to the country that is beyond measure . God Bless them.....
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