One of the many wonderful features of blogging is that posts can reach near and far in almost every sense. I was thinking about this early yesterday morning as I headed down town to get a few groceries.
I realised that even though I feel I know many of my readers well, I have no real insight into what their going ‘down town’ is like, especially if they live in far flung places at the other side of the globe.
While I never, ever take Tramore’s beauty for granted, I often assume that you all know exactly what it’s like just as you probably assume I know how your place looks when you’re ‘running errands.’
Tramore is built on a steep hill and we live at the top of the town so going down town sums up the situation very well.
As one stands at the top of Main Street, there is a clear view of the sea below and I tend to find it extremely difficult to resist the temptation to just let off the brakes and take a look at the waves.
So it was yesterday morning and here’s how it unfolded:
I’d love to hear about and see your ‘Down Town’, ‘Up Town’ or ‘everyday place.’
I was pretty much car-less during the blogging break and returned to cycling after years and years of being away from it.
It has been stunning to find that while distance may be far more restricted on a bike, one’s senses are much more active.
Tramore Bay from The Cliff Road.
It’s hard to beat the sensation of freewheeling out along the Cliff Road here in Tramore with the sea breeze kissing one’s face; the warm embrace of the scent of the dazzling gorse; snippets of conversations of couples walking; the singing of the birds as they watch from their chosen perches …..
Every journey on the bike brings back memories of other times: Mother waiting at the school gate when I was in Junior Infants and wheeling me home on her big black bicycle that she’d had since she was a teenager; Dad regaling us all with his party trick of cycling backwards; the journey to and from school in Drogheda on my natty blue bike with the little wheels and big basket; hot Summer cycles with my big brother when we’d invariably find a forbidden river, lake or beach in which to take a cooling dip; pedalling home at all hours during College
days nights in Dublin …..
More than anything, the bicycle has re-alerted me to the ups and downs of life; and the importance of forward momentum!
Flow of Life
We’re having a two referendums here in Ireland next Friday. One is about gay marriage (and I’m very much in favour of that); the other is about amending The Constitution to reduce the age at which a person can stand for the Presidency of the country from thirty-five to twenty-one.
99.9% of the debate thus far has been about the gay marriage referendum and hardly anyone is talking about the age of eligibility to stand for the Presidency.
My initial reaction to reducing the age to 21 was that it was nonsensical because I felt that a twenty-one year old couldn’t possibly have the wit or wisdom required to be President. But then I started having second thoughts as I saw all sorts of great young sportsmen and women flashing across my radar and none more than Boris Becker when he took Wimbledon by storm aged 17.
And then Anne Frank crossed my mind ~ what an amazing girl ~ surely she’d have been fit to be a President at 21 years of age.
I think I was a bit of a flibbery-jibbet at 21 but then found myself being plunged into a very grown-up world at 22 when my boyfriend was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I ended up minding him at home ~ pretty much just me as that’s how he wanted it ~ for the ten weeks or so that he had remaining to him. It amazes me now that I actually rose to that challenge and managed as well as I did. I reckon that being President would have been a walk in the park compared to that situation and all sorts of tough circumstances that so many young people find themselves in.
So, I’ve swung from being a definite ‘NO’ voter to being a ‘YES’ on this one as well.
I doubt we’ll ever have a twenty-one year old President BUT maybe it’s time to stop seeing twenty-one year olds as being big toddlers?
Tulip and Valerian
I’ve just been out gardening and it felt like nature was urging me back here to Social Bridge which someone once described as being like a garden. I remember being thrilled with that observation as I like to think of it as a place of creativity.
I really want to thank everyone who left comments and contacted me behind the scenes while I was off doing other things. Somehow the connections one makes through blogging are a lot deeper than one often realises.
I come bearing a poem which makes me think of my late mother who had such a passion for writing, nature and gardening. She loved this time of year and is very much in my thoughts as her anniversary is on May 31 ~ hard to believe it could be almost 6 years ago now.
I'll Sit by the Red Valerian
I'll sit by the red valerian
with my cup of tea. Early evening.
If it comes at all, it will come
punctually, having remembered
this place in summer's geography.
Ah,look! And it's brought another.
They punch the florets. I lean
to the hum of invisible wings.
Inches only between us.
What do their nerve-cells recall
of the waves biting up, salty?
That inkling they must have had
of all this - somewhere else - existing.
(Anne Cluysenaar: Migrations, 2011, Cinnamon
I’ve decided to take a Blogging Break so that I can sort out the computer issues that are making posting very time consuming and tedious.
Also, have a yen to do a bit of old fashioned writing and see where that leads, especially on the poetry front.
Look forward to seeing you all in a while. Good health and happy writing.
My poor old computer is reaching the end of its days and I would be delighted if you could give me any idea how good, bad or otherwise tablets are for blogging.
I’ve been used to a desktop so it would be a matter of making that switch but only if it makes sense from other people’s experience.
Thanks in anticipation. Please bear in mind that photos are important to me.