“In this short Life
That only lasts an hour
How much – how little – is
Within our power.”
Emily Dickinson
“I am tired, I am weary
I could sleep for a thousand years
A thousand dreams that would awake me
Different colours made of tears”
Lou Reed
“And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.”
Liam Shakespeare
How do you entertain a small crowd of fifty kids and adults in a Park on a Saturday lunchtime with a budget of €62.90 ?
Tell them a story.
Tell them how you come up with stories.
Get some of them to read their stories.
Then have a water fight !
“A water fight ???”
Yes ! When our kids were of ‘birthday party’ age and our home and garden would be filled with a dozen or so of their friends, poor weather could put a dampener on things, so we turned it around and told everyone in advance that they were going to get wet regardless of the weather, and to bring a change of clothes. It’s a wonder I have tops left on any of my fingers, with the amount of tiny water balloons I filled and tied over the years. At Jake, Robyn, and Elliott’s parties the water balloons usually lasted 5 minutes before we resorted to cups, buckets, and the hose. I would retreat inside and lock the doors, and then throw buckets of water at the kids from the upstairs windows…until my Soulmate would escort me by the ear back outside, and lock the door behind me , leaving me at the mercy of the kids for another hour.
Waterfights then became a feature of any event at our house, visiting Liddys, communions, confirmations…I think it was at Robyn and Eimear’s confirmation that I accidentally started the water fight early, while still wearing my suit, and Dad had a hissy fit, about getting the ‘good suit’ destroyed.
As our kids got older, I thought that they’d grow out of the water fights, but I remember Robyn asking me before her 13th birthday, when she was a first year in the Convent, to make sure that we had plenty of water balloons, as her friends wanted a water fight.
Our water fights travelled to Macroom on one occasion, where we gathered for Tadgh and Maureen’s 50th wedding anniversary. All of the proper grown ups were busy getting the food prepared and the teenage cousins were a little bored , so I started a water fight ! This was great fun …until Barry and Gerry started cursing at me for chasing all the kids through the kitchen.
Anyway, don’t underestimate the power of a water fight.
So that’s what we did last Saturday in Rossmore Park as our small part of the fantastic inaugural Drumlin Storytelling Festival organised , inspired and lead by Francis McCarron.
We bought 2 rolls of red and white barrier tape in Screwfix, €13.45 each, and 6 x 25 litre tubs in JYSK , €6 each. We borrowed picnic tables from the Council, a mic and speaker from Joycey, 100 tumblers from Monaghan Town Runners, and 20 electric fence posts from my neighbour Chrissy.
Creative Monaghan had bought us Drumlin Giant sweatshirts to give as prizes, so it was all pretty straightforward really. The Hannon was there to be the responsible adult.
I marked out an area on the grass between the carpark and the River Muireann with Chrissy’s fence posts, artfully threaded the tape around them, and then filled the six tubs in the river and placed one on each table.
Like all events in Monaghan, it was due to start at 1pm and at 12.55pm only one adult and one child had turned up, but by 1.10pm we had a respectable crowd and 4 of the 6 winners present, so we kicked off. I welcomed everyone and told Muireann’s story , of her command over all the water throughout the Park and meeting John McKenna, later Juan Mackenna, and his exploits in Chile. I explained that all of our stories about the Drumlin Giants feature some history of the Park, the Westenras, Monaghan, historical characters from Monaghan, folklore, a little fantasy, and a lot more Monaghan.
I told them the power of stories.
The river beside us in the Park is known as the river Muireann. It’s known as that because I tell everyone that’s its name. My evil Goddottir, no not that one, the other one, Caitriona, rang me one evening a few years ago when she was working on a school project to ask what the name of the river in Rossmore was and I said I didn’t know but that I’d ask Donal in the Council. I asked Donal and he said that it didn’t have a name, so I told him that I’d heard it was the river Muireann, and he didn’t object , so it became the river Muireann.
That name was in my head because we’d bumped into the best teacher in the world, Mrs.Haraghey, out in the Park one time and she’d mentioned something about her daughter Muireann, and I thought, that’s a great name for a Giant…and subsequently, a river.
Then I called the winners up to join me and to read out their stories. They were fearless ! Their stories were each very well received by a great audience, and each subsequent reader got a little braver, seeing how well the previous one had been received.
When they finished, we presented them with their limited edition sweatshirts and then we passed tumblers around all of the tables, our winners filled a tumbler each from the tub at our table and when I counted down from 3,2…they all pored water down the back of my neck and over my head and I shrieked like a Banshee. The water fight had begun !
What followed can only be described as glorious mayhem. The kids took to the water and throwing it over each other with gusto. Most adults ran for the security of the fence and the red and white barrier tape. The kids enjoyed soaking me with their tumblers, and I in turn enjoyed picking up the tubs from the tables and soaking them.
It was over too soon.
As we were packing up a car slowed down and lowered the windows and a boy from the back roared “THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE !”.
I’ll take that.
Last week as well our daughter Robyn told me that a friend, James, whom she hadn’t heard from in a year or so had contacted her with this message :
“Your Dad’s ‘Chicken Ball’ article is amazing, someone had to do it, and your Dad stepped up.”
He was referencing an article I’d written in 2017, and Robyn had no idea how he’d come across it. I’ve reprinted it in the P.S.s. I got a kick out of the fact that anyone at all read it.
I also got a lovely email from a friend in France, Mike, sparked by a random email asking him if he wanted to stay subscribed to another email list. He said that he’d always found it difficult to face health or medical concerns but that my regular outpourings had given him a different understanding. He also mentioned a bit of a story I’d written almost 4 years ago and wanted to know what happened next. This prompted me to look it up as well, and I’ve written a bit more, and then a bit more and well, Mike will be the first person to see it when it’s finished..
Thanks Mike !
Maybe all I’m supposed to do with my hour is to encourage others to write their stories, face their fears ?
I’ll take that too.
Oh, and if anyone is curious to know who won the water fight on Saturday…
IT WAS ME !
Toodles,
Paul
P.S. My Soulmate and all her mad friends in Emy Dippers would like to thank you all for your generous donations to their ‘Dip In The Nip’ fundraiser for NECRET cancer research. Their total raised is over €15,000 !!!
P.P.S. This foot stomper is for all the AMAZING writers out there ! It’s ‘Dirty Paws’ by Of Monsters & Men
P.P.P.S
Chicken Balls
When is a Chinese take away not a Chinese take away ? When it’s an Irish Chinese take away apparently. It was on a trip to that London that I discovered that what we consider to be delicious Chinese food in Monaghan doesn’t appear on the menu in a Chinese restaurant in London.
An example ?
Chicken Balls !
Yes, of course the Chinese restaurants in Monaghan serve what you’d expect in terms of curries, beef, chicken, pork, and even vegetables for the wierdos. But the most popular dish is chicken balls with chips and curry sauce, or with half & half which is a half portion of rice and a half portion of chips. God bless the hallowed ancestors of the proprietors of the Happy Garden on Park St. for introducing chicken balls to the gastronomic landscape of Monaghan in the 1970’s !
The first time I brought them home Dad looked aghast and asked what the hell they were, ‘Chicken balls’ I told him. His jaw dropped before he replied , “That was one hell of a chicken !”
For those of you who have not had the pleasure of a chicken ball, it consists of a piece of chicken, roughly the size of two thumbs, dipped in batter and deep fried to deliciousness . And, no, before you ask, it is nothing at all like a chicken nugget. You take your chicken ball and dip it in your curry sauce, then dip it in your rice and devour it in Cookie Monster style. I’m salivating here just thinking about it.
I rate it second only to the Great Wall in the pantheon of fantastic Chinese contributions to world culture. Hmm , I suppose the Great Wall was in fact an attempt to keep their culture to themselves and a symbol of fear. OK, the chicken ball is second only to fireworks in the pantheon of Chinese contributions to world culture.
So you can imagine my surprise as my brother Stephen and our friend Macca and I were sitting in a proper Chinese restaurant on the Old Kent Road in that London and were handed a menu which did not feature chicken balls….or the English language. The waitress spotted that I was in some difficulty and handed me a menu with pictures. None of the pictures were of chicken balls, or chips. Practically all of the pictures looked the same to me , a pile of something brown-ish on a plate glistening in a translucent sauce, although that shine may have come from the plastic that the menus was printed on , with the odd pop of green or red, which I imagined were spring onions or red peppers….they weren’t.
And so I pointed at a picture and 10 or 15 minutes later a large plate of duck tongues with noodles and vegetables that I still can’t define arrived at our table. Duck tongue is a lot crunchier than I’d previously imagined…not that I’d ever actually sat at Holywood lake looking at the Mallards and Swans and thought “I wonder if their tongues are crunchy”. And to be completely honest I’d never even thought of ducks having tongues at all.
Anyhow, so Chicken Balls and Chips, the bestselling item on the menu in every Chinese take away in Ireland is not in fact Chinese. They were invented in the kitchen of the Happy Garden in Monaghan in 1971.
