More School

We had two rooms at the school for classes. Even though we had four classes in each room the teachers treated them as two classes. The Master would give one group some excercise to complete and teach the other group. When anyone was finished the exercise, they were invited to "sit in" on the other group. When I was in the younger group I loved to sit in on the older class. The Master would sit on a desk at the front so he could hear us and we could hear him without having to speak very loudly. We would have considered the Master the smartest man in the village but he made no secret of the fact that a neighbour of his was much smarter than him. The only reason the neighbour was not as educated was because his family could not afford it. This neighbour, and his wife, wrote poems about local events. Usually about important hurling matches but not only.
We had a herd of dairy cows, about 8 usually, sometimes 12. Mom and Dad milked them by hand. We kids used to bring the buckets of milk across the yard and pour it into churns. The churns were kept in a half barrel of cold water. The water came from a plastic pipe which in turn was supplied from a well on a hill in the field beside the house. We don't use the well anymore but it had the sweetest water I ever tasted. Dad would bring the churns down the lane to the road where a neighbour with a tractor and trailer would collect them . The neighbour would help Dad lift the 15 gallon (almost 70 litres) churns into the trailer. Dad has a story about lifting them by himself into a horses cart once! The usual neighbour was not going to the creamery in the village one morning. Another neighbour was passing with his horse and cart and churn. Dad asked him if he could put his churn in the cart. The neighbour make no comment, so Dad lifted the churn and put it in. The neighbour still made no remark but Dad went with him to the creamery.
I remember the sound of milk against the galvanised buckets as Mom and Dad milked the cows. I remember rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I emptied the buckets early on Summer mornings. I remember looking at the mice running along the top of the wall in the cow shed silhouetted against the rays of the rising sun. That world only exists now in my memory.

School

My first taste of school was at the local village primary school. For the first four years I was taught by a kind lady who was very close to retiring. She was more a mother to her students than a teacher. She always made sure we were warm and if it was raining when we arrived to school, she took our coats and hung them to dry in front of the coal stove in the room. It was a two teacher, two room school. We learned to write with pencils and ink. The ink was in “ink wells” on the desks. We drank as much ink as we used I think,lol. She was a very religious woman and each morning we all knelt down to say prayers before starting class. It was in those years I brought my first “girl-friend” home. We have a farm and Daddy kept some pigs. One of the sows had a litter of piglets and I was allowed to stay with him as each little pig was born. On the way home from school the next day I asked a classmate if she would like to see something really great. She walked up the lane to my house and I took her over to the shed where the pigs were. I showed her the sow and little pigs. She did not share my enthusiasm, to put it mildly!
The last four years in primary school I spent under the tutelage of the “master”. He was very different from my first teacher. He gave us a good a foundation as he could in Maths and English. I remember he smoked cigars which came in a little metal box. As a prize he would give us the empty boxes. We were very proud to get those “trophies”. At the age of twelve I finished my education in the village school. The master shook our hands as we left the classroom for the last time and wished us all well .
I may post some more stories from the village school before I go on to my secondary school experiences . Bye for now.

Back again

I have been remiss in blogging here.
In my life there are many "firsts" I remember with fondness. The first "classical" music I remember was Le Bolero by Ravel. I remember hearing it, on the radio as we had no record player, as my Mother worked in the kitchen. I must have been just 3 or 4 at the time. I knew the music long before I knew what it was called. I find it a very uplifting composition.
The first joke I remember was one Daddy told. I think I was about 8 or 9 years old. We had a power (electricity) fail. Daddy was getting a tilly lamp set up. We all sat around fascinated by this "magic" lamp. Daddy started to tell us a sort of ghost story. This is it. An elderly lady was being tormented by a couple of teenage boys. They would go to her house at night and rattle windows and doors. They pretended to be ghosts. She believed the house was haunted. She went to her local priest. He listened to her story and figured out that someone was playing tricks on her. He also had a good idea who was responsible. Deciding to speak with the boys parents the next day, he also decided not to tell the lady about it. Instead he gave her a large container of Holy Water, about a gallon, and told her to sprinkle some of it where she heard the noises and say "Satan I renounce you!" The lady still a bit nervous went back home with the Holy Water.
Later during the night, she again heard the windows rattling. She got a bit excited and encouraged by the possession of the Holy Water, opened the front door, ran over to the window and exclaimed "Keep back snotty nose or I will drown you!!!"
We fell around laughing.
Time I went to bed. Good night and sweet dreams.

Petal fall

I have always considered this time of year both beautiful and sad. The early flowers on the cherry and blackthorn trees are shedding their petals. They are falling like confetti on sidewalks, hedges, fields and gardens. I think there is something magical ,almost spiritual ,about it .
Their short couple of weeks of glory is over. Now lots of other trees and shrubs are flowering. The cherry and blackthorn disappear in the green background.
As I listen to the constant murmur of traffic on the M50 my mind is elsewhere. I am in the countryside, looking at the fresh green of the grass and trees; hearing a distant cuckoo, seeing magpies squabbling, and scenting the aroma of the furze bushes. Simple things, some might say even common things but still beautiful. Anyway, tomorrow I get to go home for the weekend and hopefully get to enjoy the beauty.
Thank you for spending time here.

Analysis

It is difficult to describe one but I will try by using the words other people have used about me, and the definition of the words
Nice: adjective meaning pleasant, commendable, kind or friendly.
Nice is the most common word used by people to describe me. Sometimes it is used because people can’t think of a more precise word. Other times it is followed by an inevitable….but…. It is a word used by people in work and socially. I am not sure I deserve the accolade. I just think I am being normal.
Naïve: adjective meaning having or expressing innocence and credulity.
The second most common word used. It is funny that one person who used it about me, laughed when I claimed to be an innocent Irishman!!!,lol. I believe that the vast majority of people we meet in our lives are good, honest, and decent, and that is how I treat the people I meet.
Silly: adjective meaning lacking in good sense or absurd.
Again I am sometimes guilty of this charge. We should all be guilty from time to time or life would be very boring. I love being able to be silly, I love the joy that comes from it and I love the freedom to experience it.
Smart: adjective meaning astute, clever or bright.
Ok I will wait a moment for the inevitable laughter to die down……………................................................................
And the giggles…………………………………………..
Yes, believe it or not, it is used quite a bit about me. Again I am not sure if I deserve it. There are many times I wished I was a lot smarter.
Quiet: adjective meaning the state of being silent.
I don’t talk a lot. Sometimes that annoys people and other times people prefer it; a good note on which to end this self-analysis.
By the way I am expecting comments on this!!!!

Sunny Days

The past few days have been fantastic. The weather could not have been better. I am hoping it can be repeated next month when I will be on vacation. The Phoenix Park is looking it's best now and the lines of flowering Horse Chestnut trees are magnificent. It was a bit chaotic there yesterday evening. Lots of traffic and a new Taoiseach (Prime Minister) getting his seal of office , along with his new ministers. For those who do not know, the President of Ireland lives in a house in the Park and she gives the various seals of office to the new government ministers.
Life is full of surprises, some good and others not so good. I think we need to keep hoping no matter what dark clouds might lie ahead. Life never remains the same and it is very easy to fall into the trap of wishing for past experiences or moments to be relived. The past is over, the future is unknown, all we can do is live in the present and make the most of it.
Goodnight dear reader.