We found the perfect rice cooker!

August 15, 2012August 15, 2012 | Mairead

14 8b

(Sky over Strangford Lough)

From time to time we buy gadgets and I don’t mean the computer type of gadgets, I mean the kitchen ones. For a time these beauties take pride of place on the kitchen counter but eventually one by one they all make their way to the back of the larder. We always have very good reasons to buy them in the first place. They promise to cook food in a healthy way (the steamer and the George Foreman), they promise to help prepare healthy food (the instant shredder/dicer and the food processor), they promise to make a particular yummy food (the bread maker and the smoothie maker). But no matter how excited we are about the potential outcome, the journey to the back of the larder is always their destiny.

14 8d

(View from our boat trip)

The latest to make the journey to the larder spent about eight weeks on the counter, a relative short time when you consider the smoothie maker’s eighteen months. It was the instant shredder/dicer, a beautiful and colourful piece of engineering. In fact it’s attractiveness was probably the reason it remained in view so long, but it had a flaw – it didn’t instantly shred or dice. It squashed and spat. If you’ve ever bought a gadget that didn’t do what it was supposed to then you will know the sinking feeling of regret. Your dreams dashed and yet you have some hope so you keep it on the counter. Until the next gadget finds its way into you home.

14 8e

(Island on Strangford Lough)

We were on that cycle again this week but something different happened. We were looking for the next gadget – a perfect rice cooker. We had begun the research and had visited a kitchen gadget shop. Although their model was attractive we have been fooled by beauty too recently so we took a step back and went home to the internet. Well, there’s a lot to read about rice cookers but mainly they allow for the steaming of rice. Steaming…. a memory floats back into consciousness, don’t we have a steamer in the back of the larder?

15 8a

(Flowers in the garden at Mount Stewart)

We put the beautiful gadget into the larder and pride of place on the kitchen counter goes to… our old steamer and surprise, surprise it steams rice perfectly. Not as pretty as the last occupant but it keeps its promise – to steam.

I think I’ll have another look at the bread maker, Mairead.

Hens are great teachers… listen to a hen today.

July 20, 2012July 20, 2012 | Mairead

(The menu)

It’s very early in the morning as I write from our hotel in Swansea. I seem to have jet lag without crossing a time zone, probably the traffic noises, the pillow and the light peeping in around the curtain. We had dinner last night at an American Italian chain called Frankie and Benny’s. There were old black and white pictures all over the walls and on the menu of the original Frankie and Benny, who will be turning in their graves if they ever find out. It was an imitation of an Italian run American diner.

(The deals)

Our server worked hard entertaining us like an American server would and I was bothered when I realised we had no change to tip him. I left some euro. In this country the euro is fake money and next to useless, but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? Except I was thinking, “I have to give him a tip.”

(Hello real hen)

All this reminded me of my hair and the hens (most things remind me of the hens :)) How we humans imitate something (or someone) we think is great when all along there’s something great right under our hat. Sometimes we do the imitation so well we don’t even realise we’re doing it. We straighten our hair, we curl our hair, we comb-over our hair, we dress in a certain way, we act in a certain way, we step into a certain role and we pretend it’s us… We’re fooling no one and anyway the real us might just be a little more attractive.

(Hens get tired too and need to rest a leg)

The hens walk their own funny walk. They hug no one they don’t want to hug. They go to bed when they want to and they ignore all unwanted interaction. I’m on the hunt this morning for a hen-experience! An ordinary real Welsh cafe for my breakfast. One where my table might be a bit sticky to touch, might not be the same colour as all the rest, may even have a wonky leg… but the person serving me is real… and possibly a little cranky. And I’ll be paying attention to what it is I find attractive about that!

Be your own cranky self, Mairead.

Sunshine, water and an excellent lawnmower.

July 10, 2012July 10, 2012 | Mairead

(Some blue sky)

Yesterday provided a few little challenges for me… or maybe I provided them myself. It was sunny again so I figured this was a perfect opportunity to cut the grass. Two days of rain followed by a day of sunshine caused a grass growth spurt and I could only imagine how much taller it would grow if left unattended. (Maybe that was my first mistake… imagining something bad.) So, I put down my reading and went in search of the lawn mower. It was a petrol one and I’d used one before so I pressed the button in the front three times, moved the safety handle to the main handle and pulled the string. It started first time, excellent. That was the last excellent of the experience.

(This tree is the cat’s favourite scratching post)

Although I did notice that the garden was big, I only noticed it in an appreciative way… what great space and what wonderful possibilities. I didn’t notice it in the square yardage kind of way. I had completed about a tenth of the area when I decide to take a break. Thinking I had been cutting for at least an hour I checked the clock… twenty minutes had passed. Even though that probably indicated the whole job could be finished in three and a half hours and not ten, I still felt disappointed… it would feel like ten hours! This might have been a good time to stop cutting the grass. Instead, I had a big glass of water along with a couple of pages of reading and then returned to the job.

(Seedlings in the greenhouse)

A few more twenty-minute slots (remarkably I always seemed to be ready for a break in twenty-minute slots) and I came across a conundrum. In order to water the plants in the greenhouse there was a garden hose running between it and the outside tap. It ran across the lawn. When I realised it was in my path I wondered what the best possible course of action might be. I wondered would I un-plug the hose and lay it beside the lawn until I had finished cutting. I wondered would I just ignore it – it lay in a shallow groove which could mean it had been in place for previous cuttings. I wondered would I lift the lawn mower over it, like lifting a buggy up over some steps. I wondered all this while continuing to cut the grass. (Notice I didn’t stop to make a decision…. I continued to cut which was also a decision) And before long I was cutting more than the grass. I cut the garden hose. It was spectacular and very wet (the water pressure here is excellent.)

(Great sprinkler… not so great garden hose)

I changed my clothes and then continued to cut the grass but my heart wasn’t in it. I was imagining how the plants in the greenhouse would die because I couldn’t water them. I’d seen two watering cans in the shed but what if they were the special watering cans used only for weed killer, there might be some weedkiller left in them, I couldn’t use them either. I was very glad of the distraction of a phone call from my friend. In a very unsympathetic tone she asked Why would you cut the grass? I’m going back to my Stop Thinking Start Living book, it’s possible I’ve been thinking too much….

Oh for the simple life, living in the country with some cats and some hens…. oh yea, Mairead.

Horas non numero nisi serenas!

June 8, 2012June 8, 2012 | Mairead

(A bit of the sundial and fountain. Sorry, I chopped off the pretty parts…)

In the end we went to Powerscourt House and Gardens. The house for lunch and coffee, the gardens for flowers and graves. One of the other choices was Wexford and we picked well because they got an awful lot of rain in Wexford on Wednesday. We got the sun… and then some shade because it was too bright and then some breeze because it was a bit hot and then some sun because it got a little chilly. I suppose we got everything we needed except rain (which we didn’t need anyway).

(The Dolphin Pond)

We began our adventure in the gardens and the leaflet told us that this first section, called the Italian Gardens, was designed in the 1840’s by Daniel Robertson and that it took 100 men over twelve years to complete. Well then… seems like all the best gardens take more time than you might think sensible to complete….

(One of the gravestones in the pet’s graveyard)

I looked up Daniel Robertson and I read that he went bankrupt in England and afterwards moved his gardening business to Ireland. The gardens at Killruddery, where we went to the food market, were designed by him also. The latin inscription over the sundial in the Italian Garden, says “Horas non numero nisi serenas“, I do not count the hours unless they are tranquil. Because of his previous difficulties (with the bankruptcy) I thought Daniel’s choice of Latin quote might be significant, maybe an insight into how he coped, but for the life of me I couldn’t make sense of it…. if you were tranquil why would you bother counting the hours at all!

(The Pepperpot Tower – built for the children of the house. It was modelled on a pepper pot from Lord Powerscourt’s dining table.)

Turns out (thanks Google!) that this latin inscription is on a fountain in Venice also and the word count can be replaced with remember…I do not remember the non-peaceful hours. In other words I put my attention on the times that I have been at peace, when all was well, I carry the peace from my past with me. If Daniel hadn’t found a way to carry the peace with him we might have been walking through fields yesterday.

Nice work, Daniel. Mairead.

We’re Back in Ireland

May 31, 2012May 31, 2012 | Mairead

(We didn’t take think it was worth the risk)

We’re back on Irish soil again and for a few days it’s been very hot and sunny. Today is rainy but I have high hopes for tomorrow. I also have high hopes for getting back to regular blog posting. Like any habit, it takes a period of time to build and no time at all to break. Fortunately, I really do want to write so I’m at an advantage when it comes to being willing to build the habit. I’m very willing.

(Last week in Edinburgh)

I’m at a bit of a disadvantage when it comes to actually starting the habit though….. I have a long history of thinking about doing things. Including considering doing things. Then there’s meaning to do things and feeling a bit guilty that I haven’t done them. Followed by downright embarrassed when I’ve completely forgotten to do something and it’s too late to do it then. I feel some of that guilt and embarrassment right now as I ponder my lack of doing and it doesn’t encourage me, no, not one little bit.

(Right in the centre of the city of Edinburgh there’s a beautiful park)

Fortunately, I’m not going to be putting my attention on the times I didn’t do something, that’ll just get me more of what I don’t want. I’m going to be putting my attention on what I do want – I want to write. Oooh writing. I love to write. It’s just sometimes I forget how much I like it. I forget how it clears my mind and brings me calm. I forget how it makes me feel sparkly inside! I forget how it communicates with me and makes my experiences richer. I forget how it pushes me to complete. To completion, to fulfilment, to creation.

What are you forgetting to do today that makes you feel sparkly inside? Remember! Mairead.

We’re going to the Zoo, Zoo, Zoo

August 19, 2011April 12, 2012 | Mairead

Berlin Zoo today. Up early was the plan. Plan failed. After a breakfast of orange juice, coffee, custard Danish and currywurst (the boys only) we set off. By midday we had arrived. It’s a very old Zoo in the heart of the city, the trees and plants are as interesting as the animals. We saw the elephants first, followed closely by the giraffes and then the monkeys.

My favourite animal was a female gorilla who was born in 1957. Well I think that’s what it said on the sign…. it was in German. If you’re a regular reader you’ll remember my language ability leaves a lot to be desired. But German is different…. it’s easier to guess…. Anyway, she sat watching all the people watching her, in the manner of an old man sitting on the street corner watching the world go by.

(Two young Orang-Utans didn’t let a cage and a glass partition keep them apart. Right after this picture was taken the Mum of the one on the left swung over, picked up her baby and swung upside-down from the ceiling of the cage all the way to the other side of the huge space.)

Then we came to the nocturnal animals. They were underground, in a long winding corridor with glass fronted rooms on each side containing the animals. The lighting was very dim and the walls were painted black. When I walked in first I couldn’t see anything. I could only take very small steps, holding the wall and feeling uncomfortable. These animals normally only come out at night, but the zoo is closed at night, so…. day is turned into night down here in order that we get to see them. After a few minutes my eyes had stepped up to the challenge and it seemed like the lights had been turned up.

(Nice cobbles in Berlin Zoo)

When you really want something you may have to turn your world upside down and get a bit uncomfortable but soon everything will seem brighter!

Auf Wiedersehen, Mairead

Thank you Aunty Phil!

July 4, 2011April 11, 2012 | Mairead

(Butterfly in Powerscourt Gardens)

The Happy Pear cafe/restaurant/vegetable shop in Greystones has come up with another healthy idea. They are asking people to donate their old bicycles, no matter what condition. They will fix them up and then make them available free-to-ride around the town, just like the blue bicycles in Dublin and other cities. Then you can leave your car on the edge of town and borrow a bike and ride around to get your groceries or to just meet friends.

(No pictures of The Happy Pear – a happy cabbage instead?)

That got me thinking about when I first came to live in the big city (Dublin) when I was nineteen. My mother organised that I would live with my aunt, who was (and still is!) just three years older than me. I had just got into a computer course with a small software house and she was at university in Trinity. She travelled in each day on her bicycle. At home in Cashel, I used my bike once in a while and usually only rode it on the footpaths…. nevertheless, it was decided I would need my bicycle. As my course was on her way and I didn’t know (for a while…) how to get there, we rode together most mornings.

(Old stone wall on the Aran Islands)

It would probably have been the bravest thing I ever did, if I thought it was dangerous. But I didn’t. My aunt taught me how to weave in and out through the traffic – there were no cycle lanes then. She taught me that it was essential to be at the front of the traffic when the lights went from red to green. She taught me that I had as much right to be using the road as the cars, buses (no bus lanes either) and trucks, and she taught me to believe that. Because, once I knew I belonged on the road, the other road users knew it too and they gave me space.

(Old stones on the beach)

She did all of this without telling me anything. But in her every behaviour she told me by example.

Be the example of what you want in the world, Mairead.

PS. Thank you Auntie Phil!