The end...

All the visitors have gone home.  The holidays are at an end.  I have finally got to sit down.  In Cork! I'm here for the New Year celebrations.  And before the festivities start all over again,  I just want to say...

Happy New Year!

Very original, but there is not really much else to say!

Hope 2015 is a good year for everybody

And thanks for reading!

A grand day out.

Tradition denotes that on St Stephen day, all the Brennan's that are still standing after the Christmas day festivities, go for a walk.  But this year, due to inclement weather (it was lashing rain!), we had to stay indoors.

Our annual outing was postponed until yesterday, when we braved the heavy frost and went for a walk in the Phoenix Park, and fed the deer.  The herds are used to humans and are quite friendly.  Especially when you bring a bag of carrots to feed them with.  We tried to find Rudolph, but to the children's disappointment, he was nowhere to be seen!

We had Rusty with us.  He sat quietly and watched, until the stag got too close to the children, then he got quite annoyed.  Although I'm not sure if he was annoyed because the stag got too close or because the stag got a carrot and he didn't!

We soon ran out of carrots and had to move on.  We made for the Boathouse where we had coffee and cake.  And even though it was freezing we sat outside beside the lake, so that Conor could watch the ducks swimming.  I don't have a picture of that, my hands were too cold to take any more photos and stayed clamped around my coffee cup to keep warm!  But it was lovely, and the trees around Farmleigh still had Christmas lights in them adding to the atmosphere.

Pity it got dark so early and cut short our day out.  We got fish and chips on the way home so that nobody would have to cook!  I think that should be a new tradition!  No more cooking!

Don't think I would get away with that...??

Christmas with the Brennans (and Faheys and Behans!!)

For those of you that asked, here are the photos of the peaceful, calm and quiet Christmas at my house:

Before:

 During:

After:

That's poor Fergus, exhausted after making all that cinnamon soup!!  We did eventually wake him, but only when we needed the table to eat off again...

Of course, Mam almost ruined Christmas by forgetting to make the traditional sherry trifle, lucky Dad was on hand to give a speech about how proud he is of us all, which made us a 'trifle' emotional and saved the day!!

A big thanks to everybody who:

chopped vegetables

peeled potatoes

stirred gravy

smoked salmon

sliced ham

boiled puddings

stuffed cannelloni

baked cakes

minced pies

whipped cream

And to the rest of you who came along and ate, well, you're welcome!!

Can't wait to do it all again next year....

Ghostly greetings.

My Christmas card tree is filling up nicely.  Thanks to everybody who sent a card.

My favorite one comes from my 8 year old niece.  The usual Christmas and New Year greetings were enclosed in the card.  She has adopted a stray cat which she feeds every day and has named Fudge.  There was a greeting from Fudge enclosed also.

But, spookily (is that even a word?) if you look closely, you can see the ghosts of her two deceased cats Korky and Tigger, in the drawing too.

I suppose they were just getting into the Christmas spirit....

It's beginning to look a lot like...

....Mince Pies!

And here are the first batch.

As tradition denotes, we all get a baking job at Christmas.  Mam makes the puddings, Deirdre makes the Christmas cake, and my job is to make the mince pies.

The mince meat was made a couple of months ago and left to mature in glass jars at the back of the cupboard.  Every time I opened the door of the cupboard to get something mundane like rice or a tin of tomatoes or stock cubes, the mince was there, maturing, looking back out at me!  Tempting me.

So tonight I gave in to temptation, and made some pastry to go with the mince.

But I couldn't eat one from this batch. No, these are for donation, to a very special cause.  Dad's men's group!  They have their last meeting before the Christmas break tomorrow evening, and now they have an extra special treat to go with their obligatory cup of tea!

I had to resist the urge to eat one.  But I was good, I resisted.  I packaged them up and delivered them safe and sound.  Well sound anyway, I'm not so sure they are safe.  I am sure I heard the kettle being put on as I left...

And speaking of kettles, I must put my own on.

You don't think I made just one batch do you?

A hat trick.

I've decided to de-clutter.

I know it's not spring, but I thought it was a good time for a clean out.  In fact, not being spring is the reason for the clean out.  It's gotten cold over the last few days, especially out walking the dog in the evenings.

So I thought I'd look for a hat.

And I found one.  In fact, I found 32 of them!

Two of us live in this house, that's a sum total of 2 heads.  How on earth did we end up with, and why on earth do we need 32 hats?

I decided to put some (most) of them into a bag for the charity shop.  But it was kinda hard to decide which ones to throw away!

This one I have had for 20 years!

I probably haven't worn it for 15 years!  It was my rallying hat.  It's leather so it was great for keeping out the wind and rain, much better than the baseball cap that the rally team supplied.  My colleagues loved it.  They used it as target practice.  Because it had a rim, they could throw things (usually food) into it and they would collect there.  I didn't mind, you could be a long time waiting around in a ditch for a car to go by on a rally, so having food stored in your hat could be quite useful...


This one, I bought at a Bon Jovi concert.

I know, don't ask.  And I wasn't even smoking anything funny!  My only excuse is that I might (!) have had a drink, and it was a very hot day, and I wasn't the only one that bought one...

This one, I wore every day when I worked in the Dungeon.

I had to pass the guy with the Metro paper every day, and he always had a newspaper a smile and a good morning greeting for the girl in the pink hat.  At least he was happy with his job...

This one I wore on my trip round Ireland on the back of the Harley.

OK, I know it's not really a hat, but it did the same job!  It kept my head warm under my helmet and it was pink!  There wasn't much pink to be seen among all the black leather that the other bikers wore on that trip!  It was easy to spot me...

This one Kevin bought for me.

He went on a trip and this was the present he brought back for me.  If you look closely you can see the Manchester United badge on the front!  No prize for guessing where he went on the trip, but it was nice that he thought of me...

OK, I wont go through all the hats, but I suppose I have answered the question of how we have managed to accumulate 32 hats.

It's hard to throw out a memory!

I should really put them all in that bag for the charity shop.  If I do that, I won't have the hats anymore, but I'll still have the memories! (And a de-cluttered press!)

Now where's that bag of scarves...  And that drawer full of gloves...


PS...  the KORN hat is not mine!

Encore!

I'm on duty again!

Always the understudy.  I've done this enough times now to be given 'main player' status, but alas, that title still eludes me.

And, this time, much to my disappointment, there's no cake!  I can only hope that that will be substituted by great music?

I'm at another of my Dad's musical evenings.  A very different settings to the last time.  No twinset clad permed haired ladies tonight.  We are in a local community center with a mixed audience.

And we are off to a good start with the opening joke and a lovely gentle waltz.  I've had a look down the playlist and my favourite Humming Chorus track is there. Looking forward to that.  I also see quite a few numbers (can you call them numbers?) by the great Bellini.  Apparently he died very young, 34 years old I think, I should have paid more attention when Dad was talking about him.  But before he died he managed to write 30 Operas.  Imagine!  He also had a drink named after him.  A Bellini.  I don't know much about his music, but I am very well acquainted with his drink. In case you don't know it's made with Prosecco and peach snaps!  I didn't know that the drink was named after a composer.  (Maybe he didn't either!) You learn something new every day...

He, Bellini, is appearing six times tonight on the playlist.  Imagine if one of his drinks appeared for every one of his tracks that was played? Jeez... I might miss my cues and then I'd loose my very prestigious job as assistant to the Maestro.  Can't have that.Most of the composers on the list tonight are, if their surnames are anything to go by, Italian.  And so are most of the artists too.  So the Italians don't just make great ice cream. Or great sparkling wine.

I really should take up Italian, Dad is struggling with the translations of the titles of the tunes!  He normally has a friend who attends these evenings and translates the song titles for him.  But if I did it, the translation that is, then I'd be double jobbing.  Can't have that either.  I'll have to introduce him to Google Translate.  There's a few French names on the list also, this could get confusing.  Probably best that there's no Bellini's on the menu after all.

There is a good turnout this evening.  We have an Opera boffin here, another one besides my Dad, who has very kindly explained where the Humming Chorus fits into the story of Madam Butterfly.  I'm no going to tell you where it fits in or why 'cos then I'd have to put a spoiler alert on this blog on the off chance that you might go and see the Opera.  But I will say that it's tragic!!  There's a track here also from an Opera about Ann Boleyn, sung by Maria Callas.  Two tragic women in the one track.  They could have done with being introduced to Bellini...

And in the middle of my favourite track, the translator turned up.  Hurrah.  Or should that be 'Evviva'!!  (I used Google translator for that).

Sure what else would you be doing on a wet and windy Tuesday evening?  Let me think?

Prosecco anyone?

Yum!

I've been to Marks & Spencer.  The food hall.  I don't normally go there, it's a bit out of the way and also, it's far too tempting.  I don't know how they do it but make a bag of plain old tomatoes look like a delicious bag of treats that beg to be eaten straight out of the bag.  But I don't fall for it.

Anyway, I avoided all the temptations, got what I went in for, and made my way to the check out.  The very helpful sales assistant checked all my purchases through the till.  Then I packed my bag, and was just about to pay for my goods and make my getaway smugly because I didn't fall for the temptations, when I spotted something I haven't seen for yeas.

These:

Yum!  Walnut Whips!  And three of them in the one packet.  Triple yum!!

OK, I admit it, I'm weak, I fell for it.  I just couldn't resist.  I bought them.  Now I'm going to have to eat them.  Not all three of them together, obviously (but it will be hard not to).  Right I'm off to put the kettle on...

Dog gone...

JACK

I'm a bit sad.  I had a lovely time here, but I have to go back to my real mammy today.  I'll be glad to see her but it was great here.  Every day I got up early, had some breakfast, then went for a long walk in the park.  Everybody we met said hello to me, some of them rubbed my head and one even gave me treats.  And when we came back from the park I went to work with the small blond one and Rusty.  Although it didn't seem very much like work.  I didn't have to wear my jacket and I had lots of toys to play with, and I also got to snooze in a nice warm bed.  I did want to sleep under the desk like Rusty does,

but the blond one said that there wasn't enough room for me, Rusty and her legs, so I had to sleep beside the filing cabinet.

I tried to eat it but it didn't taste very nice.  I did find some very nice apples in the garden to eat, but there wasn't very many of them.  We also had loads of visitors who brought things for me to play with.  One of them brought a toy that was only for Rusty, but I took it when he wasn't looking.  Then I ate it.  Another small visitor brought some balls, she threw them for me and I chased them, it was great fun for a while, then I ate them too...

I'll miss the blond one, the tall dark one and my best pal, Rusty.  I think he'll be lonely when I'm gone.  I hope I can come back here again for another holiday soon.

RUSTY

At last, I'll get some peace.  The young pup will be gone tomorrow and I will once again reign supreme!  There will be no more fighting for my place under the desk!  And I won't have to listen to all that 'ooh-ing and ah-ing' that goes on in the park every morning while I'm trying to get on with my walk.  Some good did come out of this episode tho', I finally got the recognition I deserve for my years of good service and was rewarded with a lovely toy by one of the visitors.  But, I can't seem to find it now...

ME

It was a very quick week!  Jack's gone back to his full time walker.  The house is very quiet now.  We had a storm here on Sunday night and it did some damage to my garden.  But it was nothing like the damage that hurricane Jack did.  He ate the apples off the tree (lucky there were only two) and when he was finished them, he ate the tree!  He also ate a rose bush, thorns and all.  And whatever he didn't eat in the garden he brought into the kitchen.  The floor in the kitchen is covered in chewed up bits of plants.  The floor in my office is covered in chewed up tennis balls and string from a rope that somebody brought for him.  It will take me a week to clean up, if I can ever find the energy.  I'm exhausted from the 6.30am wake up calls!

But I don't care.  We had great fun with him.  His crazy antics kept us laughing,  And much to Rusty's annoyance he followed him everywhere.  And if Rusty paid him no attention, he would nip one of his back legs, and then all hell would break loose!  Jack was the toast of the park, where everybody had time for him and wanted to know how he was getting on.  But we had to follow all the rules and keep him 'working' so I couldn't really let him play too much while he was on the lead and 'training'.  It seems a shame that he can just be a pup all the time.  But as my Dad said he (Jack) is going to go out into this world to do great work.  We are all wondering who will get him when he is fully trained, or what his duties will be.  It's hard to imagine this mad puppy being somebody's eyes or ears.

Anyway, I'd love to stay and chat but  I have some cleaning up to do, although you'll have to excuse me for a minute, 'cos I think I have a little tear to shed first....

Jacks journal.

JACK

Hello.  I am loving it here at my holiday house.  I wake up when the birds are singing every morning so that I can spend all day with the blond one.  She brings me for three walks and the tall dark one plays with me.  Today we had loads of visitors.  And one of them brought a toy for me to play with. Me and Rusty had great fun with it.

RUSTY

How come I've been here for seven year and nobody every brought me a toy!?

ME

Up at 6.30 every morning...  Jeez I'm exhausted!!

A new kid in town...

JACK.

Hello!  My name is Jack and I'm four months old and I got a new mammy today.  She's very nice. She is only going to be my mammy for a week, because my real mammy had to go away for a few days.  It's OK I don't mind, it's nice here, I got treats when I got here 'cos I was a very good boy in the car and sat still for the very long journey.  There is another boy here for me to play with.  He loves me.  He chased me all around the garden when I got here barking very loudly.  So I barked back and put my paw on his shoulder and he fell over and I jumped on him and everybody laughed, except him, I think he was a bit cross, but it was great fun!  There's loads of toys for me to play with too, I love them, I can throw them up in the air and one of them even has a bell in it.  I liked throwing that one the best.  So I kept throwing it and the bell kept ringing.  The other boy, I think his name is Rusty, he wanted to play with that toy too, but I had it first, my new mammy said that we had to share and she threw it for us and we both ran but I got it first.  Rusty was very cross....  There's lots of lovely things to eat in this garden too.  I was really loving here, until my new mammy put me in jail...

Well I didn't mean to eat the flowers, they just looked so lovely, especially the big yellow ones.  I said I was sorry and she let me out, but I was tired then, so I had a rest in this lovely bed that I found in the kitchen.  Rusty was very cross again, so I had to get out of the lovely bed and let him in.  It's not fair!!  I like the floor in the house, it's very slippy, I can run in from the garden and slide all the way into the kitchen and I only stop when I hit something.  It was great fun, so I did it over and over and over, until my new mammy put me in jail, again....

She let me out after a while, because we were going for a walk.  Woo Hoo!  My favorite game.  And we didn't bring Rusty, it was just my new mammy and me.  He was VERY cross this time....  I was delighted, until she made me wear that stupid jacket.  It's not fair!  It doesn't even suit me and makes me look like such a dork.  Oh well, I suppose if it means I can go out I'll wear it.   My new mammy said that I have to get used to wearing it because when I grow up and go to work I will have to wear one all the time.  But that won't be until I'm one year old, and that's millions of sleeps away yet.  And speaking of sleeps, I'm very tired now after my walk, I think I'll put myself in jail for a while and have a rest....

RUSTY.

It started off like any other day...  I had a walk before breakfast, a snooze under the blond one's desk while she worked, another trot around the block at lunchtime, and back under the desk again for my afternoon nap.  Bliss.  Then, the doorbell rang.

She, the blond one, didn't let me run down the stairs in front of her, me shouting "who's there who's there", like I usually do.  No, she lifted me up and we went down together.  We opened the front door, and it all went horribly wrong...

A young pup, that's the only way I can describe him, bounded across my door and straight into the kitchen.  My kitchen!  The blond one didn't seem in the least bit concerned, she even opened the back door and let him out into the garden.  My garden!  I did my best to scare him away, by running round and shouting "get out get out" at the top of my voice, but he just tripped me up and stood on top of me.  Everyone laughed.  Oh the indignity.

Things got worse, he found my toys.  The blond one is throwing a ball for him.  My ball!  But then things got a bit better, for me anyway.  He ate some of her flowers, the prized yellow one's and she put him behind bars.  At last I have the blond one's attention again, now maybe we can get back to our usual routine.

How wrong could I have been.  The ultimate insult.  She took him out for a walk.  Without me!!  And he has a lovely coat to wear while he goes out.  So unfair, I don't have a coat.   I hope the tall dark one gets home soon, I don't know how much more of this I can take.  At least I know I can depend on him for attention....

ME

I decided a while ago that I would do something with the spare time I seem to have now at the weekends.  I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but I did think that I would volunteer for some worthwhile charity.   Then I saw a tweet from the Irish Guide Dogs Trust, looking for volunteers to be puppy walkers.  Bingo!!  

I downloaded the form, filled it out, gave glowing reports about my very sociable dog, sent it off and waited.

I didn't have to wait long.  Two very nice gentlemen from the Guide Dogs Trust paid myself and Kevin a visit.  They came to check us, Rusty and the house out.  We passed on most of the criteria. Well me and Kevin did anyway.  It was Rusty that failed.  And he failed spectacularly.

Without going into all the details, basically to be a puppy walker, you need to have the right environment for the puppy to learn good behavior.  Do you see where I'm going with this.  Me and Kevin are well behaved.  Unfortunately, Rusty is not so well behaved.  He is, as the two gentlemen remarked, a lovely dog, but very 'vocal'.  He likes to bark!  He also likes to chase birds flies and bees. And he demonstrated this very well while the guys were here.  All that running and barking and crazy behavior would be a very bad influence on a dog that is supposed to learn the sort of behavior that would eventually lead him to be a working dog for a visually impaired person.

So we failed.

But all hope was not lost.  They did say that from time to time they need people to take puppies for a week at a time to give the long term walkers a break, or a holiday, and that we would be eligible for this if we were interested.  So we signed up and waited..

And waited...

And today we got Jack.

Fruits of the forest.

I've been stealing from the park, again!

But his time no wild flowers or tractors were harmed in the process.  The only thing harmed are my fingers and arms, which are now covered in scratches and thorns.

I've been picking blackberries.  Here's my booty:

 

I have been looking at them over the last few weeks, going from flowers to green berries, then bright red, and at last, black.  I was waiting...  And today I couldn't walk by and leave them there, it's such a lovely day and they were begging to be picked.

I know all the rules for picking blackberries, as my Dad used to bring us out on chilly September Sunday afternoons, when we were small, armed with our little plastic bowls, and our wellingtons.   We'd end up in some farmers field and hope we didn't get chased by the cows.

The rules:

1. Don't pick from the bushes near the road.

2. Don't pick from the lower down branches.

3. Don't pick the squishy ones.

4. Don't pick the one's with the spiders on them.  (That's not actually a rule,  I just made it up now, cos I don't like spiders)

You could eat them if you wanted, and we used to, without even washing them first!  Such rebels.

So.

Don't pick from the bushes near the road, well I was in the park, so that's OK.  

Don't pick from the lower down branches?  Well being vertically challenged this rule was hard to stick to.  And all the best one's are up high.  I had to be careful, firstly not to fall into the brambles as I was reaching, and secondly not to fall into the river, as the bushed all hang over it.  Two old men came by and offered to help me with the high up berries, by lifting me up!  I did consider this offer, but then after a further examination of the two gentlemen, I declined.  I though that if I took them up on their offer one of them might have a heart attack from the strain of lifting me and I didn't have my phone with me to call an ambulance.  (And I also thought I might have to share my harvest with them if I let them help).  They also offered to help the pie when I make it.  I also declined that offer informing them that if I did make a pie, there was no way it would make it as far as the park!

Don't pick the squishy ones.  Well sometimes you don't know they are squishy until you pick them.  Hence, I've ended up with purple fingers!

I'm not going to mention the rule about the spiders.

Now, what to do with them is the question.

I thought I could make an apple and blackberry tart, as usually at this time of the year I have a good crop of apples on my tree.  But this year I got these two miserable offerings.  

I'm not having much luck growing things this year.  (I won't mention the Amaryllis, of which mine still doesn't have a flower, or even a bud).

So I think I'll put them in the freezer and keep them until I have a crowd here at Christmas (can't believe I mentioned Christmas in September!!) and then everybody can sample the delights of the Dodder.

Might go back tomorrow and get some more...

Eine kleine nachtmusik

I'm at an ICA meeting.  For those of you who have no idea what ICA means, it stands for the Irish Countrywoman's Association.  It's a meeting, a bit like an AA meeting, with cake!  (And only women).

I'm surrounded by women with permed grey hair wearing pearls, lilac cardigans and sensible shoes.  I forgot mine.  I'm drinking tea out of a cup with pink roses on it.  I never drink tea.  Especially out of cups with roses on them.  I was afraid to say no.  Imagine being in a room with 20 Mrs Doyles?  You trying saying no, these women are formidable!!  One of them was even wearing a chain around her neck akin to one a Mayor would wear.  I think she was in charge.

Also, I was afraid that if I said no to the tea, I wouldn't get any cake. There's a whole table full of cake, homemade cake, like your granny used to make, wrapped in tin foil, on paper plates...

No, this is not my new "Monday night out" for the winter.  Tonight I'm part of a double act.  I'm the silent part.  I'm also the technical expert.  Stop laughing, I'm with my Dad, so that qualifies me as the expert.  Normally this is Kevin's gig, but he had to work, so tonight the understudy (me!) gets to play the part.  I get all the good gigs...

Anyway, what am I doing here, in this classroom, surrounded by chattering old women?  I'm helping my Dad with one of his musical nights.  An Opera musical night. This is the second time I have helped with one of these evenings of music.  I really enjoyed the first time and this is already shaping up to be a better night than the last one.  Because there's cake!  These ICA women really know how to make a great cake.

We set up our equipment and it was on with the show.

Don't you just love the tragedy of Opera!  Dad, while taking command of the room full of chattering women (brave man!), had a great opening line.  It was quote from a film where an old opera singer explains the meaning of Opera to a young rock star:

"Opera is a play where a fella gets stabbed then sings all the way to the floor as he falls to his death."

Very tragic.  But it got them interested and they stopped talking and sat down.

And speaking of tragic, they also cleared the table of cake, before I got a chance to get second helpings.  

I suppose I should really be telling you about the music.  

Well, Dad compiles the tracks from various Operas, makes a playlist, then speaks for a couple of minutes between each track about the singers or the composer.  He does have notes with him, but he doesn't read them, just refers to them occasionally and ad-lib's the rest.  He has some very interesting an amusing quips for each track.  It's very Impressive!  And the ladies laughed in all the appropriate places.  They listened eyes open, while he spoke and then listened eyes closed, while I played the music.  

I do like Opera music, and I have been to a couple of Operas, but I know nothing about it.  I prefer a bit of Coldplay myself.  But I can appreciate the musical talent and vocal prowess of the artists.  For instance, you wouldn't want to leave your best champagne glasses out while Maria Callas was practicing her scales, cos when she hits those high notes it would shatter Waterford crystal and leave dogs running for cover.  I did recognize some of the tracks, but I couldn't name the singers or the Operas that they are from.  But half way down the play list, I did see one that I knew. 

The hour went by very quickly and we even did an encore.  The lady with the chain approached with an official looking envelope and a request for another performance in November.  Jeez...  This could become a habit!  I'll have to invest in the proper uniform of a cardigan and pearls and brush up on my cake eating skills!

The track that I recognized, and my favorite from this evenings performance, is this track.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0f1k14GQmNE

And my favorite cake was the coffee one!

The plot thickens

"The mystery of the Purple Amaryllis" 

(Or "how we've been duped by cunning Dutch flower sellers")

by

Siobhan Brennan

Chapter Three

(Well, you've already read chapters one and two, remember -  Chapter one, we planted them, Chapter two, one was pink!)

"The plot thickens"

Deirdre awake to a lovely sunny morning in Cork.  And, as it was Saturday, she stayed in bed for a whole extra minute.  After the minute was up, she got up and wondered what she would do for the day.  I know, she exclaimed, so loudly it stopped Vincent snoring for a second, I'll check on my Amaryllis to see if the bud that was on it last night has flowered.  

She ran excitedly out of the bedroom, skipped down the stairs, ran across the hall, bounded into the kitchen, clicked her heels together, spun around three times and she was... eh... still in her kitchen!   She opened the curtains, and there it was, in all its glory, face turned to the sun that was streaming in through the back door lighting up the kitchen, the so longed for flower of the Amaryllis.  (If this was a movie, the next bit would be in slow motion).  Her hands flew to her face, she gasped in amazement, she couldn't believe her eyes, (well she couldn't actually, because she didn't have her glasses on) she had never seen anything so, so, so.... Pink!

She sank into a chair (eh... how do you sink into a chair?  I've never really understood that phrase).  Oh no, she cried, but not loudly enough this time to stop Vincent snoring, it's all gone horribly wrong....

Meanwhile, in another part of town (or another part of the country to be precise), Siobhan was also waking up on that sunny Saturday morning.  She looked at her bedside clock, it said (well it didn't actually speak!) 8.15.  She too thought she would stay in bed for another minute.  One hour later, she eventually got up and promptly fell over Rusty, who had been waiting beside her bed, patiently, since the clock went off.   What will I do for the day she wondered, after I let Rusty out that is!  I know, she exclaimed, so loudly that Rusty flew for cover, I'll check to see if there are any e-mails for me.

So, she ran excitedly out of the bedroom, skipped down the stairs, ran across the hall, bounded into the kitchen, clicked her heels together, spun around three times and she was... eh... still in her kitchen!   (If that last sentence seems familiar, it's because I copied and pasted it from the paragraph above.  I did that so that I wouldn't have to think of something else to write.  The only difference is that Rusty was with me and thought it was a great game, and also, my house is completely different to Deirdre's and I can't actually run across the hall as my stairs finish up in the sitting room....).  Then, after searching for the keys, that were in the door all along, she finally let Rusty out to do some eagerly awaited barking, and whatever else dogs do when you let them out in the morning!  Siobhan did have to walk along by the dining room table where her Amaryllis plant is sitting, but she didn't even glance at it....

Back in Cork,  Deirdre took a picture.  In fact, she took two pictures.  And then she e-mailed them to Siobhan.

Siobhan drank her coffee while she waited for the computer to boot up.  Finally, she had access to her e-mails.  Ah, here is one from Deirdre, what news has she got for me today, she wondered?  She opened it.  Her hands flew to her face,she gasped in amazement, she couldn't believe her eyes even tho' she was actually wearing her glasses, she had never seen anything so, so, so (yes, OK, I stole that sentence from above too, but it did actually happen like that)... Pink!!

So that's two out of three.

She put down her coffee, walked round to the dining room table, and looked at her own Amaryllis plant.  Yes it was still there, and yes it had grown, but no, there was no flower, and on top of all that there wasn't even a bud.   Siobhan had definitely lost the 'first to produce a flower' race.

But could there still be a happy ending to this sorry tale?  Could Siobhan's miserable plant turn the race around and get a bud which would actually turn into a purple/blue flower?  And because this isn't a movie, or a fictional book, it's hardly likely at this stage.  But she will live in hope (and maybe buy some dye from the hardware store!).

Never mind, Deirdre and Siobhan still have the tulip bulbs to look forward too.  They bought two bags of 50, mixed colours and varieties and are going to share them with their Mother.  So, they can all look forward to a very colourful garden next February/March.  

But Siobhan is not letting this go, she is back on her computer, (and if this was a movie, this part would be in fast motion and you would see Siobhan's fingers flying over the keyboard) furiously writing a strongly worded letter to the Dutch Flower Sellers Association.

Her face is purple with rage and she is using purple ink...

Pink is the new purple...

We've all been fooled!

I knew I had no chance.  The third Amaryllis has reared it's (not so) ugly head.  And not only does it have a bud, but as you can see, it has flowered.

Not to be beaten in the flower power race, my Aunt sent this picture today.

But!  Look again.  The flower is pink!!  Woo ha ha ha ha.... (Evil laugh!!)  It was supposed to be a lovely dark blue/purple colour.

So, have we been beaten??   I think not.  We can still pull victory from the ashes...  Or in this case, from the potting compost.  If either myself or Deirdre can produce a purple/blue flower, then I will declare one of us the winner!

I just remembered, we also bought Tulip bulbs...  God knows what they will produce!!

Game on!

So, I told you during our trip to Amsterdam a couple of weeks ago, that we went to visit the flower market.  And I also told you that we bought some bulbs?  Right?

Well, here are our attempts to grow the beautiful blue/purple Amaryllis bulbs that we purchased:

Deirdre's:

Mine:

Look!  Even tho Deirdre lives 160 Km's away from me, and there was no collaboration, we both put them in the same colour pots!  Although Deirdre did go out and choose a pot for hers, while I just rooted in the shed and found one that would 'do'.  And in another unbelievable co-incidence, we even planted them within a week of each other.  Deirdre read all the instructions, while I found mine in a bag on top of the washing machine, just before I went to Spain, and thought I better do something with it before I left, or it would die while I was away!  She very kindly sent me the attached picture of hers yesterday, to show me it's progress.  (Not that she was bragging or anything...  Hmm....)

And look again!!  Deirdre's is bigger than mine and already has a flower bud.  Jeez, where did I go wrong?

Not that it's a competition or anything (of course it is, we are Brennan's after all!) but I have some serious catching up to do here.  

I'm going to have to read up about Amaryllis bulb/flower care and sort this out.  I can't have big sis beating me in the flower race.  I will have to resort to cheating (or Miracle grow!!) to fix this.  Watch this space.

Oh wait!!   I just remembered, my Mother also bought one, to give to my Aunt Mary, the most green fingered Brennan that I know.

I've no chance...

What a day!

Apparently it's Apostrophe Day!

Two days ago it was Left Handers Day.

One day last week, (and being a dog lover I don't remember exactly which day it was), there was a day called National Cat Day.

I really must pay more attention.  Today we are supposed to celebrate one of our "most useful, yet sadly misused, punctuation marks".

Exactly how do you celebrate a punctuation mark?

I suppose hugging a cat on National Cat Day would be a good way to celebrate that.  Although Rusty might not be too pleased.  And hugging a left hander would be easy in my family, as there are several of them.

But I'm at a loss as to what to do with an apostrophe!

On further investigation, I even found a Apostrophe Protection Society, who dedicate their lives to the correct use of apostrophes.  The results of a survey they conducted showed that the apostrophe was the punctuation mark that caused the most frustration for people in the UK.  Seriously?  How can such a little squiggle cause so much frustration?  Anyway, in light of that, they have even devised a 13 question quiz to see if you know your shit from you're shit.  (Sorry couldn't resist that one!!)  I didn't take the quiz.

But here's somebody who should:



Arianna Huffington (Huffington Post) even dedicated a whole column to the Apostrophe and it's misuse.  I got confused reading it.

Anyway, instead of being frustrated by people's (Hmmm.... is that apostrophe in the right place???) lack of understanding and misuse of the great Apostrophe, I'm going to celebrate it's use with coffee and chocolate.  Or maybe I'll make that chocolates (without the apostrophe)...

Genie-us!

What sad news...  Robin Williams gone.

I felt like he was part of our lives when Kevin was growing up.

He was introduced to Kevin as the Genie in Aladdin, which he watched over and over till the video tape eventually wore out.  Then there was Hook and Jumanji and Mrs Doubtfire and Flubber and so on. I don't need to name them. Then when Kevin was a bit older I found a copy of Popeye, which was a bit dark, but nevertheless he loved Robins wacky portrayal of the character.

There's nothing I can add to all the tributes being paid to him today, but I saw someone say this on Twitter last night and thought it made sense.  He was "Someone who brought so much happiness and obviously struggled with his own"

I know what it's like to live with somebody who suffers from depression and my thoughts are with his family now.

RIP Robin.  "We ain't never had a friend like you..."

Thanks!

Don't you just love it when your friends say 'thank you' with flowers?

I didn't do much, it took me 5 minutes, and it really was no trouble at all...

And my reward?  This lovely bunch:

Thanks!  (And they are really brightening up this rainy Sunday afternoon...)

Best aunty ever!!

I'm in an airport again.

I'm on my own.  Having travelling with a group last week, it's a very strange experience.  I keep looking beside and behind me to check for my travelling companions.  Also, I checked in a bag! So I have no bag and no people with me, very strange indeed.

I'm off to Spain.  Via London,  where I pick up my 10 year old niece Eliza, and she will be travelling on with me.  Not sure who will be looking after who? We're off to meet up with my other niece Rachel (8years old) who is waiting patiently at the other side for her, with her parents obviously.  I will vaporise on arrival, my job done.  Actually, I think I have already vaporised, the heat in Dublin is great, and they say it will be the hottest day this year today.  I have brought along extra strength ear plugs, as I imagine the noise level will go up considerably in Girona airport when those two girls meet?

My 'Aunty' brownie points are clocking up big time.  I am only doing this so that they will look after me when I'm old, and in the home for the bewildered.  (Some would say that I'm already there, but that's just mean...) They can come and visit me, on a Sunday afternoon, with chocolate, and we can reminisce about all the lively trips we had together when they were young.  

I'm also meeting my Nephew Adrian, in London, armed with millions of birthday cards (full of cash, as he's a poor student) for him from home.  Aunty brownie points will sky rocket!  Although there's not much chance of him coming to visit me in the home, because apparently I'm far too embarrassing.  Funny how the small girls love me and the large lads find me embarrassing?  I'v no idea why.  The girls love when I hug and kiss them ruffle their and tell them they look cute...

Ok, they are calling my flight, better go.  I hope I remember to pick up my bag, with all the flight tickets and birthday cards, at the other side.  Imagine if I forgot!  Now that would be embarrassing.

A sad day.

After a lovely few days in Amsterdam, we came home to sad news.

Dad's brother, Tom, died last night.  I suppose I should say my Uncle Tom died, but I didn't really know him very well.  Chatting to Dad today, he said that he really didn't know him very well either.  Tom left home when they were both very young men, and like many young men of that era that went to the UK, or further afield, he didn't come home or keep in touch very much.  I thought that was a bit sad.  But that was the way of their generation.

When I was growing up I knew my brothers and sisters very well!!  The less said about that the better!  And my generation were (are?) a bit better at keeping in touch.  We had the telephone, which, as my Mother will tell you, I spent hours on concocting up all sorts of schemes and plans.  And when we went away, to live or on holidays, we wrote letters or sent postcards.

And now there is Kevin's generation.  He doesn't have brothers and sisters, but he does have my brothers and sisters and all their siblings as his family.  He is so familiar with my brothers and sister that he doesn't even call them 'Aunt' or 'Uncle'.  But that's they way of his generation.  And as for keeping in touch?  Well, I don't have to tell you how they go about that!

I know I give out about Facebook etc., and Kevin and his generation being constantly connected to their mobile phones, but I suppose at least they are keeping in touch.

When I think about it, I suppose this is my way of keeping in touch now.  Instead of picking up the telephone, I sit here and write...  It saves me repeating myself and it saves on the phone bills!!  It also means that if you don't want to hear from me, you can ignore me, without me knowing!

But what I am really trying to say is, it's good to stay in touch.  Especially with your family.

RIP Tom.

At last!

The last day of the holidays and the famous five set off excitedly on their bicycles (or a Dacia Duster if your reading the 2014 edition) for their last adventure before it was time to go home...

Our first stop today was the lively little fishing village of Volendam, where we ate ice-cream while watching the yachts sail in and out of the harbor, bought tacky souvenirs for our friends, and tried on some shoes!

Next stop, after a row with the satellite navigation system in the car, was Zaanse Schans. And, at last, what I had been waiting for for the whole trip.  A windmill!  Or several.

Obviously I was delighted!  And so were the bus loads of Chinese people who also came to visit the windmills.  I airbrushed them out of this picture.  We had to wait for a gap in the crowd to be able to take this!

Then it was time to go home...

I think we wore him out.  But, at last, we got a reprieve from the terrible jokes.

Although before he dropped of for a snooze, he did say that he wished he had more daughters who would bring him away on trips like this one.  And I'd like to think that that wasn't one of his jokes!!

Ps... Mam never did find that cake shop!

Flower power!

On the fourth day of Christmas...

Well, even though I didn't think it was possible, the jokes are getting worse.  It's like Groundhog Day.  We get up, there's a terrible joke.  We have breakfast, there's a terrible joke.  We get on the tram, there's a terrible joke...

Yesterday we were very cultured and spent the day in the recently refurbished Rijksmuseum.  Apparently it was closed for ten years to allow for the refurbishment to take place.  I'm very glad that it was open for us to visit, as it is a beautiful building to walk around.

And it was very informative.  I brushed up on my Dutch history.  I learned how to import Opium, I learned how to conquer a far away land and create a Colony, and I also got some very useful tips on how to improve my painting skills.  How or where I'm ever going to use these skills is beyond me, but lunch in the building was definitely worth learning about.  I could practice that skill everyday.

Today, we were even more touristy and saw Amsterdam in all it's glory from a riverboat.  Or should that be a canal boat?  We got on a hop on hop off boat, and hopped off at all the best places.  The flower market being the best one! We strolled through oohing and ahing at the variety of bulbs and plants and cut flowers on offer.  We stopped for longer than we should have at the stand with the cannabis seeds and plants.  Did some more doddering, but in the end being the straight laced oldies that we are we opted for some tulip and (a very unusual blue coloured) amaryllis bulbs.  We will have to bury them in our bags to get them through customs.  Perhaps I should have paid more attention yesterday in the museum at the Opium importing exhibit!

We're sitting now as I am writing this, beside the water, having a drink, in the sunshine, after a(nother) great day in this busy city.

Apart from the terrible jokes, and the fact that I haven't seen a windmill yet (unless you count the hundreds of tiny ones that you can stick on your fridge), it's been a lovely few days.  We still have one more day, so I haven't given up on the windmills yet.  And my mother hasn't given up on the cake shops yet either!!

A mad shower!

Day three in the big brother house...

So far I'm loving The Netherlands.  Despite the face that I haven't yet seen seen a windmill or a tulip. Or am I just stereotyping? When people come to Ireland to visit do they really look for Leprechauns or Shamrock?

The people are lovely too.  Very friendly and accommodating.  They even laugh at Dads terrible jokes.  But I am slightly curious about their showering habits.  This sign is hanging over the bath in our hotel room:

It says: We kindly request you to take your shower in the bath.  Eh...?

You know when somebody tells you not to do something...

Tulips...

Tulips...

...from Amsterdam.

Day two of the Brennan road trip.

I forgot to bring the b*****t deflectors!  So my ears are hurting now from Grandads terrible jokes.  I won't tell you any of them, I wouldn't inflict the same pain on you.

We're on the road back to Amsterdam, having spent the night in Maastricht.  Our visit to Maastricht was to bring my parents to see the well oiled machine that is Andre Rieu.  And what a machine it is! He is the 'One Direction' of classical music.  We enjoyed, as the man himself would say, a 'fantastic' evening.  As I am sure any of you who are familiar with what he does knows, he tours the world with this show, so you get exactly as it says on the tin.  It's like the Disney fairy tale for adults.  Mam and Dad really enjoyed the show, as did I and Deirdre and Vincent, despite a drop of rain towards the end, when we all donned the plastic ponchos kindly provided by Andre.  Dad was so delighted with the whole experience that he wrote a poem in Andre's honour:

When Andre Rieu was a young boy

He couldn't play a note.

So, he bought a fiddle with a hole in the middle,

To keep his show afloat!

I can't add to that!   But I can add that Dad mentioned that myself and Deirdre brought the average age of the audience down considerably.  So that makes up for his terrible poetry.  Unless of course, that was another of his terrible jokes...

And can I just say, Maastricht is Andre's home town and he is playing live shows in the Vrijthof Square in the town for two weeks.  That's 14 nights in a row.  No licensing issues here.  The square is surrounded by residential properties.  Nobody objected!  Quite the opposite in fact they open their windows and sit on the sills watching and listening, enjoying the fireworks that close the show.  And this event takes place every year.  People of Drumcondra, are you reading this?  We Irish have a lot to learn.   (And I wrote that paragraph without mentioning Garth Brooks once!  Oh wait...)

So we are on route now to Amsterdam for a few days.  Making a stop off in Hoorn, to visit some extended family on the Fahey (deirdre's husband) side.  I was in Hoorn once before in a former life.  I don't remember much about it but I do have an old photo of myself on a bike to prove that I was there.  I might try to recreate that image today.  I wonder do they still have the same bike?

There's a game of Scrabble going on in the back of the car as I'm writing.  Somebody has invoked a three kilometre rule.  You have to play your turn before three kilometres have been driven.  Jeez! There's always some new rule that has to be adhered to.  I better stop writing and take my turn, or I'll be banished from the game, not that I have much of winning...

The Stewart on the flight on the way over told me to make sure I kept my parents away from the 'cake' shops in Amsterdam.   Hmmm..  You know when somebody tells you not to do something...

Hello Kitty!

I'm off on my travels again.

And it's not just me that's travelling this time.  We are a bunch of Brennan's travelling and for the next few days Holland, or as I should really call it (after the in depth geography lesson I received from my Dutch colleague) The Netherlands, will be treated to an influx of us!

Hmmm...I wonder what the collective noun for a bunch of Brennan's is?  I suppose for now until I come up with something better I'll loosely use the term 'family'.

Kitty's also coming with us.  I like Kitty!

She's very generous and always willing to go along with whatever we want to do.  If you want coffee and cake, she's right there with you.  Lunch?  Dinner?  Taxi?  You name it (eh... within reason) and she always manages to sort everybody out.  On previous trips, she has been more than generous.  She has even been known to visit the bar, and co-incidentally she has the same taste in fizzy wine as I do.  What luck!  Her only downside is that she requires supervision.  Usually Deirdre (the big sister) supervises Kitty, they get on very well together and can adapt quickly when the situation requires it.

But, as usual, when there is a family of Brennan's together, there is always a power struggle.  And I fear on this trip that the struggle will be for supervision of Kitty!

I have no interest in supervising her.  But I think Deirdre's qualifications for being in charge might be brought into question by my Mother, who claims to have much more experience dealing with Kitty over the years.

I'm happy not to get involved, and just sit back and be looked after for this trip.  Of course, if my Mother wins the power struggle, and I find that Kitty is coming back from the bar with red wine, then I will have to step in...

I know an old woman, who swallowed a spider...

They're gone!

I evicted them.  Well not so much evicted, but, with the help of my vacuum cleaner, dismantled their homes.  So now because they literally have no homes to go to, they are gone somewhere else.

My house is now a spider free zone.

While I was busy with the vacuum cleaner, it got me thinking that I should do some research and see if I could come up with a reason as to why I don't like spiders or am 'afraid' of them.  Any excuse to get out of housework!

It's hard to do research on this topic, as every article has one, or several, pictures of the creatures included in it.  And none of them are pretty!  Anyway, I persevered and managed to get through a few articles by quickly scrolling past the photos.  (Shudder)

Firstly, I discovered, that I have inherited it, my fear/dislike, from one of my parents.  So thanks Mam, it must have been you.  It can't have been Dad, because I remember when we were small children he used to pick them up and pretend to eat them so we wouldn't be afraid.  (Well at least I think he pretended!).  And speaking of children, apparently, according to one study, some children are more afraid of spiders than they are of being kidnapped!  Jeez, what were their parents telling them?  And in more worrying research, one Professor concluded that females are 'genetically predisposed' to fearing potentially dangerous animals, and are four times more likely to have a phobia for spiders than males.  (Oh wait, I just re-read that last sentence.  It should say that females are more likely to have a phobia for spiders than males are.  I didn't mean that females have a phobia for males.  Or did I....) So basically, I had no chance from the start.

Secondly, he (the Professor) suggested that we deal with our fears by trying to sympathize with the spiders getting to know them and understanding them better.  Hmm....  Does that mean the next time I see a spider in my house that I have to take out a bottle of wine and sit down and have a chat with it?

He also discussed the fact that we need to train the next generation not to be afraid of spiders.  Well too late for the next generation in this house!  The 6'2" (male) that I produced has inherited my dislike/fear of the creepy crawlies, and is right there behind me when I am wielding the vacuum cleaner behind the curtains or underneath the kitchen cupboards.

Lastly, the Professor concurred that the best way to appreciate spiders, is to eat them!

Here concludes my research.  I gave up after that!  Although I think Rusty (and my Dad!) must have read his research, as he is quite happy to sample the delights of my dusty corners.

But, I don't have to worry about spiders being in my house anymore, they are gone.

Now, if I could just find a way to get rid of the big fat slugs that are taking over my garden?  Stir fry anyone...?

After the deluge.

It's a lovely day today.  Funny that, after such a rainy one last night.

Well, the industrial strength anti-frizz hair wax didn't do exactly as it says on the tin.  Because my hair looks like Side Show Bob's today.  Side Show Bob having a bad hair day to be exact.

And my 'wet' gear didn't do what its job description entails, because I got soaked through.  Time to make it redundant and search for new wet gear, or maybe that should be dry gear, that actually does what it is supposed to do.

On the other hand, or should that be foot, my new wellingtons did exactly as they promised, because I had lovely dry feet.  In fact, my feet were the only things dry.  I won't go into details, but everything else, yes, everything else was soaked!!

But, who cares?  We had a great time, Kings of Leon and Kodaline didn't disappoint.  And I don't even mind the pile of wet clothes that I have here today.

But, if I catch the person who walked all round my house last night leaving a trail of muddy boots behind them...

These boots were made for...

It's raining!

(So what, I hear you say, it is Ireland!)

Why did it have to rain today?  I wasn't able to have my breakfast outside this morning, which is one of the perks of working at home in the summertime.  I love having my coffee outside and being serenaded by the birds while I drink it.

Sometimes they do more than serenade me, but I won't give out about that at the moment, because I am giving out about the rain.

I know I shouldn't complain about the rain,  because it's good for everything and we need it etc. etc....  But do we really need it today?

I'm also not going to complain about the nonsense going on here at the moment re the Garth Brooks concerts.  Or maybe I will complain about that.  I'm fed up listening to it/reading about it/discussing it.  I've nothing against Garth, I even went to see him when he was here the last time.  I'm not unsympathetic to the people who bought tickets and are wondering what is going on.  I know they are disappointed.  But please, no more.  Please?!  When the nation went mad a couple of months ago as the concerts were announced, my work colleague, who is Dutch, called me and asked me could I explain to him why the whole country had been whipped into a frenzy because some concert tickets were gone on sale.  He thought we (the Irish) were mad.  I had no explanation for him then.  I'm hoping he doesn't call today....

Anyway, speaking of concerts.  That's why I'm giving out about the rain.

I'm going to see Kings of Leon and Kodaline tonight.  Outdoors!!

I've been looking forward to it since February, when I bought the tickets, without any frenzy!  And we have had the most glorious weather here for the last three weeks, beautiful sunshine, nice warm temperatures and lovely calm balmy evenings.  Great, I thought, we will have a fantastic evening for the concert.  But oh no, not today, because it's raining.

So instead of the standard festival uniform of flowers in our hair, huge sunglasses, shorts, floaty tops with fringes on them and flat strappy sandals on our feet, we will be in galoshes, sou'wester's, rain mac's, fleeces and Wellington boots.  Not to mention the industrial strength was for my hair so that it doesn't go frizzy.  Not very fetching.  Unless...

Unless you have new Wellington boots to wear!!

And, I am now the proud owner of a very stylish pair of the aforementioned articles.

I can't wait to wear them!!

Now, all I need is a field, muddied by rain, loud music and plastic glass of beer to go with them...