Seventy-two Today
It started as usual with my late morning Kefir -- full of fruit, nuts and veggies. Combined with a largely gluten-free diet, I attribute my general wellness at the ripe old age of 72 partly to this marvelous concoction. Then we pack Molly the dog and some cameras and walk along the Strandhill beach and around to Ballysadare Bay. It is cold but clear with just a few drops of rain from passing clouds. The dusting of snow on the hills a warning of more weather to come. On the way back we call at Mammy Johnson's for coffee/tea and almond croissant. One day I will try the pancakes they are famous for but so far I've never gotten past the croissants.
Freezing in the cold before hiding in Mammy Johnson's
All three of us love to walk, Molly most of all. The day before, Helen had taken us to Slishwood by Lough Gill, a beautiful freshwater lake and forest. The cold weather is fabulous for walking, with trails everywhere, not only around Strandhill but out at Slishwood and pretty much everywhere.
Fairy Island, Slishwood
Helen's birthday present to me is a meal out at the local upmarket burger joint, Flipside. We arrive early but it is booked solid and so we go around to Connolly's pub for a while. On the pavement by the river is a piano man. Just a guy with an old piano that sounds surprisingly in-tune considering the life it leads. Helen drops a few coins in his hat. At Connolly's there is a group of older musos playing in the corner: guitar, Irish bazouki, bass and drums -- American blues and early rock. Tight and very precise, the way older musos used to play in places like Frank Traynors when I was young. Not loud, small amps or just acoustic, and pure pleasure for the ears. Then 2 young lads join in. We actually saw them play a few days ago with another local artist, Eddie Lee (google Eddie Lee Photography Sligo), at a popup in the local shopping centre and were mighty impressed. One lad is on keyboards and the other on trumpet. They are a bit out of their depth with these older guys but some of their solos are very good.
Back to Flipside and the burger is fabulous (gluten free), the chips ok (too small, but tasty -- whatever happened to big chunky crispy chips?) and the salad generous. I wash mine down with an Old Hag and then a few glasses of cheap and excellent Portuguese red. Thus fortified, we head off to Shoot the Crows.
Shoot the Crows is a famous Sligo pub and was Jimmy Barr's old haunt. Jimmy was Helen's husband for 43 years until he checked out 3 years ago, dead on the living-room floor from a heart-attack. It was a shock for her, but also a release. She has not had the courage to go back to his old haunts since, so this is a brave move for her and a memorable event. The regulars she knew from Jimmy's time are all still there and to say the welcome we receive is warm is to damn the Irish with faint praise. I am immediately accepted. Ronan, the publican, comes out and tells me some of the history of this famous irish pub and the amazing art on the walls. Mickey entertains me with witty sailing stories and Fabian brings up the rear. I'm given a Shoot the Crows hoodie and neither of us get a chance to pay for drinks. People pass by and say hello or exchange a few words with Helen or me, one guy says he lived in Melbourne for a while, another asks about sailing. It's a tiny place and we're pressed into the middle to be greeted, questioned and welcomed by everyone, it seems.
All thoughts of driving have long since departed so we abandon Helen's car in the carpark and catch a taxi home to Strandhill.
I wanna be 72 every year.