“I could leave you, say goodbye
Or I could love you, if I try
And I could
And left to my own devices, I probably would
Left to my own devices, I probably would”
Lowe/Tennant
Every wedding is magical and special in it’s own way and aren’t comparable.
That being said ,obviously, some stand out …but all pale into insignificance compared to the wonderous alignment of the planets, the forging of stars, the availability of Cabra Castle on a Saturday , and my Soulmates eventual surrender to my puppy dog dependence and enthusiasm, which led to our BEST WEDDING OF ALL TIME !!!
If you were there , you know. And if you weren’t….
Anyway , possibly a good 4th to that glorious day was last Friday’s soul alignment between our closest neighbours, Shauna and Chrissy. Literally, they are closest. I could, and have, thrown a stick from my garden to theirs… which is always retrieved by the best thing about them…their furry companion, Molly.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
I do that.
It is very strange to go to the wedding of someone you’ve known since they were 10.
Or maybe it isn’t.
It is for me.
We moved into our home here in 2004. The very next day we met Chrissy for the very first time. He arrived with his parents, Hilda and Kieran, and his siblings to welcome us to the neighbourhood. For the first few years Chrissy’s relationship with us was relatively benign, except for Christmas, when we would attend the Christmas concert at our kids school in Threemilehouse, and Chrissy would murder the Kerry Polka… every year !
This set a pattern.
Chrissy is , second only to his Dad, the kindest and most helpful person I know. But, despite all of my best efforts, he has grown up to be…I can’t quite bring myself to say it…here goes…a fan of Country & Irish music, also known as Cow Shite music. For years I thought it was just a rebellious fad, but sadly he genuinely seems to like it.
Not only that , but he found a girlfriend who is similarly afflicted, Shauna.
Shauna is quiet , kind, and determined.
When we first met her I thought she was very shy. I was wrong.
Back in the early days of living here , we were away one weekend and returned to find that Kieran and Chrissy had levelled the rubble heap at the side of our house, cleared it of stones, and sown a lawn for us. So when Chrissy moved in to the house next door to us, which had been his Granny’s house, I mowed his lawn whenever I mowed mine. I’ve done this happily for years. Shortly after Shauna moved in she gently told me that I’d been doing it wrong, and showed me how to do it properly.
Shauna has been a gentle force for good in our lives since we have known her. She conducts breathwork sessions in her spare time and I’ve been to several of them, and it’s hard to describe what she does, and harder to describe how she does it, but she guides you on a journey to yourself. It’s an hour of heaven.
They are kindred spirits.
We were delighted for them when they got engaged, and honoured to be invited to their wedding last Friday.
It was also my Soulmate’s birthday.
The wedding ceremony was completely, utterly, and beautifully their own. Chrissy’s brother Cathal played guitar, and his sister Christina played the harp…and they weren’t country songs. They exchanged heart felt vows surrounded by an intimate crowd of people that loved them dearly.
Afterwards Chrissy said a few words standing at the bar beside his soulmate Shauna, that were beautiful and sincere…just like them.
At the reception we caught up with neighbours and friends we hadn’t seen in a while and had a great time. During the meal music played, after a moment or two I said to my Soulmate “Didn’t they just play this song ?” she said they didn’t.
After having the soup I said “That’s definitely the same song again.” I was told ‘No’ that they were different songs…and then I realised that they were all CowShite ! After the meal I chastised Shauna for the songs played during the meal, and she told me that it was her playlist. I told her that she had ruined an otherwise great day.
I think we may have been the first ones to leave. We were trying to be kind to ourselves, as we had the Dublin City marathon to run on Sunday. We gave Chrissy and Shauna one last hug and thanked them for inviting us. It was a privilege to witness the beginning of the rest of their happy lives together.
That was Friday.
Saturday, the day before the marathon should be spent resting, and eating carbs.
I got up at 7 and headed out to Rossmore Park to set up the Parkrun. This is normally a straightforward operation that I could do blindfolded. But this particular Saturday we were sharing the park with The Haunting of Rossmore, and our route traversed theirs in several spots. Extra tape was needed to guide runners away from the Hill Billy massacre, and the bus to hell, which was parked in the middle of our normal path.
I had planned to lay out the route and then head home , but I ended up spending the next couple of hours out on the course telling people to be careful running around the bus as it was slippy, and NOT to look in the windows of the bus…everyone looked in the windows and were greeted by freaky clowns.
After Parkrun, Ray and I were positioned in the nearby retail park to help people onto the shuttle bus for the Haunting that afternoon. Helping out the Haunting during daylight, and a mile from it, is perfect for me. I’m a big, fat, scaredy cat. Ray and I had fun measuring up kids for the pop up coffin we had at the bus stop, telling them that this was just in case anything bad happened to them out in the Park. I also got on the bus and took a photo of them all waving before they headed over saying that we needed the photo the help identify the bodies later.
This was the day before the marathon when Ray and I should have been sitting down somewhere eating pasta. Instead we were soaked to the skin standing in a retail park scaring children. It was a novel approach.
We were replaced in the carpark by Dominic and Brenda who both commented “Shouldn’t you be at home resting for the marathon ?”. They had both been in Dublin to cheer us on in last year’s marathon, but said they wouldn’t this year, because they no longer thought I was going to die anytime soon, and also that they didn’t believe us when we said it was going to be out last.
No one believes that this is, now was, our last ever marathon.
It was.
We’re not giving up running, just that insane distance.
We thoroughly enjoyed our last.
My Soulmate and I got up at 5.00 am, had breakfast, went and collected Ray, then collected Grainne, and drove up to Dublin. I’d booked the car into the Stephen’s Green car park , forgetting that every bridge across the Liffey was closed because of the marathon. After being turned away from the third crossing Ray said just turn at the next one.
“But it says ‘Buses Only’ !”
“Don’t worry, if anyone says anything to you just say that I’m Robbie Gallagher’s election agent and we’re on Dail business.”
Thankfully after that illegal crossing, and breaking the next two red lights we made it to the car park. We sorted out our running gear, our clothes for afterwards, and headed for the bag drop area. Dublin was quiet. Ray hates a void, so he started playing the Venga Boys on his phone. Grainne started singing “Boom ! Boom ! Boom ! Boom ! along with him, and Eileen and I hurried on ahead , pretending that we didn’t know them.
Bags dropped, the girls headed off to the portaloos and Ray and I sauntered towards the start line. We found each other again, and bumped into some other Monaghan folk, took selfies with everyone , and waited…
I always hate the start of races. I know I’m never going to win one, or finish in the first half, but I still get nervous. The last few minutes seen interminable.
And then you’re off.
We wished the girls well, and then I focused on holding back Ray. He gets very giddy at the start and just wants to overtake everyone, while I’m happy to wave at them and wish them well as they overtake me.
We started well, and weren’t overtaken by a fully costumed charity runner until we got to Phoenix Park, where a Minion overtook us. Eileen and Grainne overtook us in Chapelizod. We stopped for photos with Gareth, Angie, Catherine, and Ella, and then Dev overtook us, running her first ever marathon as we ran our last. We stopped again to take selfies with our neighbours, and harp player, Christina and Matthew. Near Kilmainham we thought we saw the lady , Colette O’Hagan, who was running her 1,000 marathon. Another runner ahead of us had asked if she could take a selfie with her. “That must be her” Ray said. She we ran alongside her and asked if we could take our photo with her. She smiled and said “Yes , of course.” We wished her well, congratulated her, and as we ran off we heard runners behind us congratulate her and ask if they could take photos with her.
“I thought that 1,000 marathon lady was going to be dressed head to toe in pink ?”
Ray looked back. Several more people were now congratulating and to her.
“You’re right, it’s not her at all.”
It was just a lovely little old lady , who was thrilled with her spontaneous fame.
We saw the McElroys next, took a selfie. Then saw Ray’s sister, took a selfie.
We passed the halfway mark and my phone pinged. It was a photo of our friend Patrick Meehan with his medal at the finish line. “Bastard ! “ we both panted.
We then saw Linda’s friend Aoife in Crumlin, took a selfie.
Walkinstown, saw Dublin Dave and Tracey, took several selfies.
Terenure, saw the Connollys, selfie.
Near Bushy Park we met Gareth, Angie, Kate and Ella again. Ray had arranged with Gareth to have a fresh tee shirt for him, I said I’d walk on. I must have looked uncomfortable because Kate and Ella ran after me to make sure I was OK. I said I was, and asked Ella for drugs. She said “No!”.
I walked past Bushy Park. I always associate it with loneliness. I used to walk around there , aged 18, when I was in the Holy Ghosts, pining for Eileen. It was a poignant moment for me. Took a selfie.
Ray caught up, and we jogged on until , as we approached the 20 mile mark and that hill, which Ray always calls “That fucking hill !”, someone called out “Paul !” , it was Georgie Crawford, with Jamie and Tahlie. Big hugs were exchanged. Selfies were taken. Georgie is magic. Some of it rubbed off. We ran up that hill.
Near Clonskeagh we were cheered on by the Litte Sisters of The Poor, we circled back, and took a selfie. They were lovely and giddy, and gave us hard boiled sweets from their pockets. We told then we were on a mission from God. They said they’d pray for us.
As we jogged away Ray was sucking on his sweet, “What kind of sweet is this ?” , I looked at the wrapper from mine. “I think that factory closed in 1972”.
Further on we met the Lucasessess, of Clogherhead. Took a selfie.
We were nearly there.
We saw the Monaghan Phoenix tent, manned by Brian and Una every year. I’ve never enjoyed a flat Coke as much in my whole life. Hugs and selfies were exchanged.
On Pembroke Road we were shouted at by the Molloy clan. We held their baby , took selfies.
We were really nearly there.
I told Ray to slow down so that we could soak up the last kilometre of our last marathon. It was raining. I started to cry. Happy crying. He pretended not to see. Fist bumped me and said “C’mon”.
Someone roared “DAD ! FFS!!!” It was Elliott and Teresa. I ran over and hugged him very tightly indeed. He said he’d been at the halfway mark, but that we hadn’t seen him. I hugged him again and said I’d see him at the end.
We stopped with 100metres to go and smiled. This was our last marathon. Took a selfie.
We waddled back to the car.
We changed into dry clothes.
We all swapped stories of who we’d met, how we’d felt.
We felt great ! Delirious almost. Content.
It was my 10th marathon, and Ray’s 20th.
Nice way to finish.
We will be there next year…on the sidelines, cheering…and perhaps taking the odd photo or two.
That was Sunday.
Monday , thankfully was a bank holiday.
Tuesday and Wednesday were consumed with finalising a major contract, and Thursday was spent in the Museum, telling stories, and scaring children…and myself.
And yesterday we went to Hillsborough to attend the funeral of my friend Paul’s Dad. Kim Cox had lived a wonderful life, a lot of it underwater, he was a sub aqua instructor. His passing was sudden and unexpected. He was a year older than me. His cancer was the same.
When we hear I sent this message to Eimear :
“Hey Kid,
Heard your terrible news, don’t know what to say. Seamus Heaney messaged his wife when he knew he was passing away ‘Noli Temere’, It means ‘Don’t be afraid’. I can’t beat that. We love you loads , and Paul, a little bit. Give him a hug for us. Not much of a god botherer these days but I went into St.Josephs this morning and lit a candle for Mr. Cox.
Love,
Paul & Eileen”
Life is very short.
Be kind.
Take a minute.
Take selfies.
Embrace the chaos.
Toodles,
Paul
P.S. This ‘Everything is Everything’
