A while ago, I noticed that a brick in the wall hidden behind a light post on my round the block walk has a very inspiring little mural on it. It took a bit of doing to grab a photograph of it as the pole is pretty much obscuring it and I had Puppy Stan pulling impatiently to trot on.
It catches me by surprise every time I pass and that could be three or four times a day!
This photograph which I took a few days ago brings me to Claude Monet and from him to Dad.
See, it was during Summertime when I was 7 or 8 that Dad first introduced me to The National Art Gallery in Dublin. We used to swap houses with his sister, who lived in Dublin, and that was when we tended to visit places that Mother and Father loved.
It was Dad who was into art galleries and I adored going to them with him. Whenever he came to Dublin in the years that I lived there we would head for The National Gallery, view the art and then dine at leisure and chat contentedly.
He loved that he had passed on his enjoyment of art to me and could more than understand how I savoured going on guided Gallery tours on Sunday afternoons and taking a year long evening course in art history.
Every New Year’s Day for years and years, I gave him an Impressionist calendar which had its special place in his bolt hole.
How can one ever thank a parent enough for sowing the seeds of love for such precious things as creative arts and sport?
I guess one way is to try and pass on the love to future generations in a non-pushy way and hope that it will take root.
Undoubtedly my favourite book as a child was one which Mother passed on to us. It had an off-white hardback cover and the heroine was called Roberta. She was the ultimate tomboy, just like me, and would only answer to Bobby.
The fairy door out the Anne Valley, with ‘Bobby’ on it always makes me think of the umpteen times I read that book and longed to be called Bobby. I had notions of calling a baby girl, if I ever had one, Bobby and certainly not Roberta. I wonder how that would have gone down!
The book is still with me but so well stashed away that I can’t quite remember where.
I’d love to meet the Bobby of the door creation. I imagine she has short curly fair hair, freckles and is wearing shorts, sandals and a raggedy T-Shirt in this weather. No doubt, she has a big dog and is part of a gang of young lads who admire her courage, daring and wild achievements.