“And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
And you may find yourself in another part of the world
And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife
And you may ask yourself, “Well, how did I get here?”
You may ask yourself, “What is that beautiful house?”
You may ask yourself, “Where does that highway go to?”
And you may ask yourself, “Am I right, am I wrong?”
And you may say to yourself, “My God, what have I done?”
David Byrne / Phoebe Esprit / Tina Weymouth / Jerry Harrison / Christopher Frantz / Brian Peter George Eno / Ronald Amanze
This week’s blog may seem odd.
“All of your blogs are odd !”
Thank you Brenda.
It is 6.09 am , my Soulmate and I drove to Kildare and back yesterday evening to commiserate with old friends on the passing of their father. We had a late supper and I went to bed early to try and write something. When Eileen came to bed I hadn’t written a single thing, I’d got distracted by an article on Kurt Vonnegut, and was now too tired. I started listening to a book on Hermeticism , alchemy, and biblical codes and set it to go off in an hour. An hour later I extended it for another hour…and then I dozed off. At some indeterminate time Tuna quietly jumped on to the bed and silently crept up to my pillow and started purring. Tuna’s purring vibrated through the pillow and I woke. I opened one eye and was greeted by a husky ‘Miaooow?’.
“Hermeticism.” I answered.
Miaow ?
“Yes it does mention John Dee.”
Miaoow, miaoow, miaoow.
“Yes , I know you think he was a dupe for Edward Kelley, but as I said before there had to be something to Kelley, as Emperor Rudolf II fell for him too.”
Miaow !
“You say that about every Holy Roman Emperor !”
I gave a loud ‘Ssssh !’ , and Tuna sloped off and I went back to sleep. And now I’m here, downstairs, and after apologising to Tuna for dismissing her opinions too lightly, wrapped in a blanket, writing this.
Before I go any further I should explain that my sleeping habits vary between poor and terrible. All three of my Ologists have endeavoured to determine the root cause and provide care and remedies. I think the main reason for sleeping lightly is that since that operation I now sleep with a tube connected at night and I think I’m always aware of it subconsciously. And probably more importantly, since that same operation my Soulmate and I had to swap sides of the bed , which I’m still getting used to. But even I still sleep in patches, I do feel rested, and am quite content.
Most of the time when I wake during the night I’ll catch the end of a dream and think ‘Oh that was good, I should write that down and use it in a story.’ But invariably I don’t . Most times I just go straight back to sleep, but on the occasions I don’t I start thinking of people I’ve bumped into that day, things I noticed, little wonders of the day.
On Tuesday my acquaintance, Jamie , sent me a link to an old song I hadn’t heard in ages, ‘Big in Japan’ by Alphaville, with a text saying ‘This came on in the car today and for some reason I said I bet Paul loved this back in the day.’
I replied ‘I did ! I was a first year in secondary school and a gang of us camped out at Halloween in my Granda’s old farmhouse and , this being shortly after the introduction of electricity and before the internet, we had that week’s ‘Song Hits’ magazine which printed the chart song lyrics. And we sang ‘Big In Japan’ a lot…and badly, but with great enthusiasm!’
‘I just knew there would be a story ! I hope you’re well my friend.’
‘I am exceedingly fine and dandy. And hope you are too.’
‘Hunky Dory..more Hunky though !’
‘ Eileen called me Dory this morning as I’d forgotten to put my mug in the dishwasher and switch it on last night before I went to bed, despite having promised to do exactly that as she went to bed 10 minutes before me.’
At some point during Tuesday night’s sleep I thought about going to school in St.Macartan’s and getting the bus from Ballinode into town and then waiting for the next bus out to the school. While most of my friends were ‘liberating’ sweets from Mary Fealy’s shop I would wander round to Hamills newsagents and flick through the pop song lyric magazines to find out what they were actually singing on the radio rather than what I thought they were singing.
At another point I remembered more about that few days in Granda’s farm.
When I was 10 or 11 , a first year in St.Macartan’s College, a gang of us stayed for a few nights over the Halloween break in my Granda’s old farmhouse in Dernaseill , about three miles from Scotstown. The farmhouse had no electricity, running water, or furniture, but it was dry and became our place. We were on our own and had great fun. After the second day we’d run out of all the biscuits, chocolate and cereal we’d brought with us, were fed up cycling to Scotstown for cans of Coke, Major cigarettes and crisps, and had nothing to eat except two dozen eggs that none of us knew what to with. On the third day Granda and Uncle Terence arrived to check on the few cattle in the backfield. He had a tin of Spam with him and got a bunch of twigs outside and made a fire in the old grate, put a pot of water on it and when the water boiled cracked in a few eggs. They were ready in a minute. Terence put some slices of bread on forks and toasted them by holding them to the fire. Granda looked around to see six 10 year olds salivating. He put on more eggs, Terence made more toast, and he divided up the Spam. I think I will go to my grave never having dined on a more sumptuous meal.
As soon as Granda and Terence left we got on our bikes and went to McQuaids shop and bought all of their Spam, seven tins, two Tip Top batch loafs, 20 Major, and a half pound of butter.
We had Spam, toast and poached eggs for tea, supper, breakfast, lunch for the next three days.
When we went home I asked Mam if I could have Spam for my lunch at school. I had Spam sandwiches from Halloween to Christmas. I’ve never had a Spam sandwich since.
Poached eggs on the other hand, I’ve had almost daily since that day Granda and Terence made them in the old fireplace in Dernaseill. They were the first thing I ever cooked for myself. And possibly until the age of 25 were still the only thing I could cook for myself.
Which is all wonderful.
And then I thought…we didn’t sing ‘Big In Japan’, we sang ‘Turning Japanese’ by The Vapors ! I’d muddled the memory. I do remember ‘Big in Japan’, but not from that few days.
Bizarre.
I still hate Spam though.
While listening to Kurt Vonneguts talk he mentioned his uncle, Alex.
“But I had a good uncle, my late Uncle Alex. He was my father’s kid brother, a childless graduate of Harvard who was an honest life-insurance salesman in Indianapolis. He was well- read and wise. And his principal complaint about other human beings was that they so seldom noticed it when they were happy. So when we were drinking lemonade under an apple tree in the summer, say, and talking lazily about this and that, almost buzzing like honeybees, Uncle Alex would suddenly interrupt the agreeable blather to exclaim, “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”
So I do the same now, and so do my kids and grandkids. And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, “if this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”
Jeepers ! Is that the time ?
Toodles,
Paul
P.S. Jamie is a friend , rather than an acquaintance, but I don’t want him getting notions. This is for the good guys ‘Over Everything’.
P.P.S. I actually finished something ! My book of ten short stories about the Drumlin Giants. We’re rolling out an art competition to Primary schools next week for illustrations.
Here’s the story of Druid and Mary Westenra
Druid
When Mary was six she was woken in the middle of the night by the sound of something landing with a thud in the fireplace in her bedroom. Yes, I know, it is odd to have a fireplace in your bedroom, but this was a long time ago, 1896 in fact and Mary lived in a castle, Rossmore Castle. Her father was Derrick Westenra, 5th Baron Rossmore, and to be quite honest, not the most pleasant man. He loved animals and birds, but not the way like you or I would, no, he loved to hunt them. He was terrible in lots of other ways, but for now we’ll get back to Mary, in her bedroom and her fright in the middle of the night.
Like all very clever people, when Mary heard the thud in the middle of the night in her bedroom, she lay perfectly still, pretended to be still asleep and hoped that whatever it was would go away. It didn’t. It made a noise. It wasn’t a terrible noise, or very loud. It made it again, and Mary, although only six, realised that it was a little bird. She goy out of bed and lit a candle and walked slowly to the fireplace. Bringing the candle close to the fireplace she saw a small pile of twigs and dried mud and in the middle of it a little bird, a baby Starling. She went and got a shoe box from her wardrobe and placed some socks in it to make a wee nest for the baby Starling.( I should point out at this point that Mary used clean socks in her Starling’s nest. This is very important. In case you ever have to rescue a baby Starling , do not use dirty socks ! )
After a few minutes the baby Starling stopped shivering, and then started to chirp very loudly.
“Sssh ! Ssssh!” Mary whispered. “Don’t wake Father !” She was panicking now. She placed the shoebox under her bed and crept downstairs to the kitchens and found a hard boiled egg and some milk and brought it back to her bedroom. The baby Starling pecked manically at the egg , spreading more of it around the bedroom floor than she was eating, and then seemed to be bathing in the milk rather than drinking it. Mary laughed, the bird seemed happy. She decided to call it Gabby. After a while she got tired and put Gabby back in her shoe box nest and placed it back under her bed and went to sleep.
The next morning she got up, checked on Gabby, ran down for breakfast, gobbled up some porridge and put another boiled egg in her pocket to take back up to her room for Gabby. She was very happy and excited. She’d never had a pet before. She bounded up the stairs two at a time and ran along the corridor. When she was almost at her room she could here Gabby chirping frantically, she burst into her room and then froze in horror. Her father was sitting on her bed with the shoe box on his knee and holding Gabby in the air , in a pinch between his finger and thumb. Gabby was chirping and flapping her wings in distress.
“Let her go !” Mary shouted.
“I beg your pardon !” Her father answered coldly. “What is the meaning of this..this thing ?”
“It’s a baby Starling, it fell down the chimney, I’m nursing it.”
“Are you indeed ?” Her Father wasn’t even looking at her as he spoke. “Well, this is my house, and everything in it belongs to me. So I’m keeping this thing, and I’m going to use it as live bait to catch that damn fox that keeps evading my hounds.” He got up to leave and was putting Gabby in his pocket when, before she even realised herself what she was doing, she’d jumped on the bed, grabbed a pillow and whacked her father with it. He let go of Gabby. Mary caught her before she reached the ground and ran out of her bedroom , down the stairs, and out into the Park.
Her father raced down the stairs after her, stopping in the hall to call his butler to release the hunting pack and to bring him his gun.
Mary ran down the hill, past the walled garden, over the tin bridge and turned right, and right again, and was running along the path before Priestfield Lake when she tripped and fell. She was holding Gabby in both hands, so when she fell, she couldn’t use her arms or hands to break her fall. She hit the ground hard. She was dazed. She tried to sit up. She could feel something warm running down her forehead. She feared it was her own blood. She could hear hounds barking , getting closer and her father shouting, “Damn child !”.
She sat in the middle of the path, still holding Gabby in her hands.
Her father was now only metres away. He called off the dogs. They prowled around him.
“Place the bird on the edge of the path and step back.” He said angrily, raising his gun.
“No !”
He fired a shot above her head. “Place the bird on the edge of the path and step back.” He repeated , louder this time.
“No !” she said again.
“I will not miss this time. I’m shooting that bird with this next shot , whether you are holding it or not.” He raised his gun to take aim.
A bird swooped down and pecked at him. He batted it away. Then another bird, and another, and several more swooped down from every direction , taking off his hat, and knocking his gun. After a moment of two of frenzy, the birds all landed forming a circle around Mary. After a moment or two Baron Rossmore composed himself. He was livid !
“How cute. They must be your bird’s Starling cousins. Well, I have plenty of shotgun cartridges with me and twenty Starlings will be no challenge……” His voice trailed off. The sky had darkened above them. He looked up. It was a giant thundercloud, except it wasn’t. It was moving in several directions all at once and there was a large rhythmic sound. It took him a moment or two to figure out that it was the sound of wingbeats …thousands of them. The thousands of Starlings formed a giant murmuration, and became one giant Starling, and landed on the path behind Mary.
It spoke.
“I am Druid. You are one. I am many.”
Baron Rossmore was staring open mouthed. The dogs were all cowering behind him, edging back towards the Castle. He was about to say something when Druid opened her beak and roared “GO !!!”, and as she did so hundreds of Starlings flew directly at him. He dropped his gun and ran terrified , back to the Castle.
Some Starlings flew together and lifted his gun and dropped it into the lake. Then slowly they all drifted away until Mary was left, still sitting in the middle of the path, and still holding Gabby in her hands. She could feel Gabby gently peck at the palm of her hand, she opened then slowly and Gabby stood there.
“Thank you Mary for saving me.”
Mary looked around, she couldn’t see anyone.
“It’s just me.”
She looked down at Gabby.
“Yes. It’s me. You can hear me telepathically. Fun isn’t it ?”
“Yes. But how ..or what..or who…?
“I am a Starling. When Starlings are troubled we form a murmuration, a giant gathering of thousands of us that keep all of us safe and terrify larger creatures, such as your Father. In this Park we are part of The Drumlin Giants family and when we combine together we become Druid, a giant Starling made of many small ones. You were so kind to me, that we wanted to help.”
“This is amazing !” Mary said smiling. “I’d love to fly away from here myself. I hate it all.”
“You will one day.” Gabby said. “Now I must go. Your father will not be happy with you, but he will think twice about mistreating you in future I hope.”
“He’s never happy with me. He can’t wait to send me away to school.”
“Well. That may be for the best. But know that wherever you are, one of us is nearby, and we are always willing to help.”
“Thank you Gabby.”
And with that Gabby flew from Mary’s hands and she never saw her again.
Mary was sent to boarding school the following month.
She developed an interest in cars and motorbikes, and was arrested , aged 14 for speeding on the Clones Road. When she heard about the Wright Brothers first flight she tried to stow away on an ocean liner to get to America.
During World War I she volunteered as an aviation mechanic with the Royal Flying Corps. In 1927 she was the first woman to fly across the Irish Sea, and later that same year she set the world altitude record, flying to a height of 5,268metres.
In 1929 she set out from Croydon, near London, on the world’s longest solo flight to Cape Town in South Africa and back. During the return leg her plane got into difficulty flying over the Sahara Desert. Her engine failed. She was drifting in to land when a Starling landed on the wing, then another, and another, then hundreds, then thousands. They lifted the plane back up and glided it to the edge of the desert where Mary could get help and refuel. Before it landed, one of the Starlings landed on her hand. It cocked it’s head to one side and nodded and in her own head Mary heard the words “Druid and Gabby send their regards.”
She set many more world records.
She married, and became Mary Bailey.
She was a founding member in 1930 of the Women’s Engineering Society, supporting other pioneering women scientists and engineers.
She always wore a broach on her lapel of a Starling and when asked what it was, she would simply say “Druid”.
