I try to keep this retirement blog Brexit-free but, given we’re in Ireland, I can’t entirely avoid a reference. I’ll make it Brexit-lite. I saw in the news that that nice man Nigel Farrage had been covered in milk shake presumably by a disgruntled Remainer. Funny really I’ve been half expecting the same thing to happen to us. Or at least an egg thrown at the Defender with its UK licence plate. Same as with Nige I sometimes imagine that a disgruntled Irish person, seeing the licence plate, might see us as a legitimate target for an egging.
I have thought of hanging a sign – I voted to Remain – but never have got round to it. So I hope for the best. Generally I avoid bringing up the B word at all but, despite my best efforts, every now and again it rears its definitely ugly head. Up in Leitrim, near the border, they’re (Mrs Summerhouse’s cousin and other relatives) more worried than down here in Kerry but it’s an issue everywhere we’ve been. In Leitrim it’s a combination of worries about the border and farming and exporting to the UK. Down here in Kerry it’s more about tourists. True most of these tourists are, it must be said, American, so maybe not so bad, but they’re still nervous.
In the last few years we usually see a few British licence plates. This year, not a one, at the time of writing (Tuesday). Maybe they thought the potential complexities of Brexit (after the identified leaving date – now changed of course) made the trip just too much hassle. Or perhaps they thought they might not be welcome. So far we haven’t felt unwelcome but I suppose there’s time yet. The European and Local elections are taking place this Friday, as in the UK*.
The leaflet not above (on account of technical difficulties), was one of four left on the table in a bar, the legendary Krugers, where we stopped for a drink. I read it with some curiosity (it was the only one of four than was in English). Sure enough, and, as would be expected in a European election, there were several references to Brexit – ‘Sinn Fein is standing up for the South East (not sure where the South West fits in). We need to see real investment, stronger support and better strategies to defend the region from the effects of Brexit’. And similarly on the back of the same leaflet.
The one thing I was disappointed not to see mentioned in the election was any reference to the banshee (bean si). Bit of a leap maybe but, staying in the county of Mrs SH’s relatives, Leitrim, reminded us of all those tales told by her uncle about the banshee when we visited in the old days. The ones that scared the bejeepers (is that right?) out of us. I remember his description of the banshee he’d seen was that of a large bird sat on the gate post at the end of the lane, screeching away – like Nigel Farrage again.
When I saw the (above in photo – sorry it might be on its side again) book for sale (The Banshee, sub-titled : The Irish Supernatural Death Messenger) in the bookshop of the excellent Blaskets Centre museum, I couldn’t resist it. I’m still reading it so summaries are premature. It’s a very academic book, apart from the title, full of references and foot notes and completely lacking in any form of sensationalism. Which I thought was a shame, but there it is.** It’s based on the findings of research using questionnaires (mostly of school-children, strangely) and interviews with adults.
As luck would have it, we’ve been living with a nest of birds in the cooker hood. My first thought about this squawking mass was the poster image from Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. But then there was the section of the above book dealing with the form that the banshee took when it was seen around the house of the person soon to be dead, bearing in mind that most people only hear the banshee rather than see it.
Sure enough there it was – One instance of the banshee appearing (was) in the shape of a bird (and) sat on the window-sill of the room in which the person lay ill. She came regularly for a week before the person died. Nothing about cooker hoods but then I guess they weren’t common in those days.
We have more than one bird so hopefully this doesn’t signify we’re all doomed. Is there a banshee that comes if a person is about to be milk-shaked? A crow was the bird most often mentioned and, with just one, of a robin. Which was good in that we didn’t think the birds we had were crows. But the robin hopping around the garden of the pub where we were having lunch took on a different meaning after the book.
So there we are on this trip, modern Ireland and Ireland of old. I know which I prefer. But I daresay that’s just me leaning towards the mystical again. I dare say the average Irish person much prefers today’s version of Ireland even if it does include Brexit in all its many guises. And other issues, again, according to the election pamphlet, the need for a motorway between Limerick and Cork and the importance of setting up a Technological university of the South East, the development of the ports of Rosslare and Waterford (again more South East than South West but there we are) and along with that railway access to the port, among other election requests.
It makes a change for me to write a retirement blog about fairly serious matters on this trip. And, with the banshee waiting in the wings to make a comeback, this blog might just represent the best of both worlds, the old and the new. Here’s hoping Nige gets his visit from the banshee quite soon although his name wasn’t on the list (see below) unfortunately.
*A bit of a puzzle even when we bought the Irish Times to try and understand what was going off. We’re confused because we’re in the South West but all elections seem to refer to the South East as above. Maybe that’s just the European ones. Don’t know. Sorry.
**Perhaps the most sensational bit of information was in the list, as above, of the names of the families that the banshee is said to follow. Yes, apparently they don’t just appear to any old family, they’re selective. Mrs SH’s family name was on the list, my family’s name was not. Make of that what you will. Sorry I said I would stop writing in this retirement blog about the mysterious / magical side of Ireland but it just keeps on cropping up.