The Leaky Teapot and the Presidential Election

In the last few days I've been to the Leaky Teapot a few times. Drinking tea while doing paperwork or waiting for things. 

I enjoyed seeing the Shannon as I sat in the window. In the summer the trees are in leaf and they block the Shannon out. I didn't know if I'd see my second winter in Limerick, but here I am. The Shannon has been fierce like the Corrib in the last few days and I've sat and watched it from the cafe and stood down there on the Quay as well. There was some filming going on down there. 

The Leaky Teapot was busy this second time, and I was lucky to get a window seat. I sat with my tea, I was waiting in between my messages and errands, and the afternoon Mass, and so I had a cup of tea, can't usually afford food, but to my surprise, people who knew me were eating and got me a meal. This is my Limerick, and this is how kind and generous people have always been to me while I've been in Limerick. I enjoyed curry, rice and chips. Chips with curry and rice is an Irish thing and very pleasant. 

leaky teapot

On the subject of kindness. I watched the presidential race with interest. I am not supposed to be political or personal or biased, but it was a very clear cut race. There should have been more candidates, yes, but the winner won. 

The man who left me on the streets of Limerick in the beginning is a strong FG personality. I found out through him about politics, about FG, and about where things are going wrong in Ireland. He claimed to be friends with the FG presidential candidate and have her number, before she was a presidential candidate of course. 

The independent candidate Catherine Connolly, carried herself well throughout the campaign, was clear on her mandate and very human, able to reach people. She is very natural and friendly and people warmed to her. The desperate mudslinging by Right Wing Fine Gael backfired and made them look very bad. 

Something I found a bit shocking when I came to Ireland and especially when I went to college in Dublin, was women of grandmother age trying to be sexy. I've not seen this in the UK or France or any country, but figure hugging and revealing clothes, lots of makeup, accessories, scarlet nails, in older women, it has made me sad to see, because they shouldn't need to be trying like that. It's my opinion and I'm totally natural myself and have never tried to attract men. What stood out about Catherine Connolly was that she's totally natural, didn't try to hide herself behind any kind of paint, and didn't try to show herself off, she conducted herself much as President Higgins himself would. I think people saw this. She presented as a person, not a mask. Anything in life that depends on wearing a mask is hollow. 

Her win was deserved. You have the Irish Times and the Irish Sun reading similar headlines of her win, but the Times, Right Wing, are adding about the spoiled vote, trying not to gain the disapproval of the nation while having a quiet sour grapes moment, while the Sun, Left Wing, adds a little bit about her rival giving her best wishes. The little difference between tabloid and broadsheet this morning.

The clocks changed last night, they still look the same to me but I got to stay in bed longer and laugh at the comments on the Journal headlines. 

That's the Shannon yesterday when I left the Leaky Teapot. A low rapid tide, often a paradise for kayakers. 

So Ireland has a new President but it was a messy and controversial election which left a number of potential candidates and candidates looking bad. It was an Irish breed of disaster.

The end result was okay. I guess at the moment I could say the same about my bumpy landing in Limerick. There has been a lot of bad but certainly some positives. 

The story of The Road to Shannon

I linked to the new parody blog recently, but recent posts don't really belong on here so I'm moving them. If you want to read our comedy about Michael G.Tierney, Property Tycoon turned Shaman, he is still here: 

 https://beyondshannon.blogspot.com/?m=1

Likewise, poetry has been moved to: https://castletroywords.blogspot.com/

Shannon has been an important part of my life, but people don't know everything. They know we insult 'Newtown Shannon' in Castletroy, or that I lived there, or that I have a manuscript called The Road to Shannon. And I'm asked 'Is the Road to Shannon paved with good intentions?'

Last night, coming back from Shannon, I cried most of the way. Probably the fact I was listening to 'We had it all' by Ronnie Drew. If you ever need a crying song, there's one. Last night was very significant. After 15 years the final act of something significant to me was finally played out to closure, with strange sweet poetic justice. Unexpectedly, softly, and after so long of waiting. Things have changed significantly in recent months, not least because I'm finally telling my story and no longer alone with it, although there is a long way to go. I expected torrents of emotion, but maybe I didn't expect how that would feel. And so much has happened recently, not least JM and what happened being in the news.

Planes at Shannon Airport (model ones)

With the first anniversary of my arrival in Limerick approaching, all I can say it's been a rollercoaster, some of the best and worst days of my life have been spent in Limerick. It feels like 10 years not one, and I've grown older, changed, and had experiences that have changed me.

Even my playlist has changed. When I arrived it was the 198 playlist. 'Snow in August', 'Long before your time', 'Ship to Shore', 'Goodbye Yellowbick Road', 'Limerick you're a Lady' and 'By your side' - the Limerick Love Song'. Then it was Shannon songs including 'Are you right there Michael' and 'Phil the fluter's ball' 

Then we went to the JM Golden Days: 'You never learned to Dance', 'Staten Island', 'The Ballad of John Williams' and 'By your Side'. And now 'The Old Bog Road', 'The town I left behind', 'The Ballad of St. Anne's Reel', and finally 'We had it All' - the song of the Road to Shannon. Life is a sound track. 

So the Road to Shannon was there a long time ago when I used to house sit in County Clare, but it didn't mean much to me, back then Ennis was a kind of Mecca, long ago. Now as some will know, I hate Ennis. 

The origin of The Road to Shannon could be told in legend form. It began when that man left me with nowhere to go when he'd told me he was moving me to Limerick. I'd moved my life to Limerick and he left me shattered and with nothing. In despair I went to my old home town and ended up at the hospital with my heart affected by the stress. 

'We stood there in the rain. Three of us. The Keeper of the Purpose is first to speak. 'You came home, and the Blessing is always honoured, you are called to Limerick, the Purpose is not the man who came to guide you, it is Limerick'. I consider this 'I have no connection beyond what I've built and I'll be homeless in a strange city'. He replies 'You will never be alone and you will be met in Limerick, follow the guides that come'. I turn to John, who is standing in the shadows. John speaks 'Go to Limerick, but you must know The Road to Shannon Airport blindfold as soon as possible'. 'How?' I ask, confused. 'You'll see' he says. 

I look towards the warm dry bus, the lights shining in the rain-starred darkness. I turn back to them 'I'm afraid I'll be coming back for your funeral'. The Keeper of the Purpose laughs 'You'll be home many times before I pass'. I bow to the Keeper and the Lantern-bearer 'I go first to the South, may I return when in need?' 'You will always return to the Town of the Blessing of the Purpose, O Wanderer'. They bow and are gone and in the rain I board the bus to Limerick. 

If you want to know what my Fantasy genre work is like, its on that theme. Rooted in reality. 

I arrived in Limerick as the 343 route was reinforced to bring a 24 hour regular service, and I learned the road to Shannon Airport in the dark before long. I learned with, music, with my playlist in my ears, alone, shattered and hopeless. 

I used to have many dreams and nightmares about the man who left me homeless in Limerick, my whole life had been in his hands. One of the most significant of these dreams was dreaming he took over Shannon Airport. I guess he does, when he takes his posh holidays in Lanzarote, but in the dream he just decided he would own Shannon Airport and wasn't listening to objections, which sounds like him. In my dream there was ski slope or ice slide down the middle of the airport, I'm not sure how he'd manage that, but in the dream he introduced flights to Madeira. Funnily enough, flights to Madeira were introduced shortly after this dream, I may have been dreaming of Madeira for other reasons. In the dream he sat with me at the restaurant there and he said to me 'I'm here'. But it was someone else who was there last night. 

For a while I went to live at Shannon with a friend, and the planes flew low over the house. I remember one day she said that someone who had been working on the house was just leaving, and I said yep, here's his plane. I got to know Shannon very well indeed. 

Peter McGarry's book 'Falling Stars' about Shannon Aviation disasters, is grim but a must-read. The real stories and lives behind the crash. Unfortunately for me, I dream of plane crashes often, as there was one in my past. Planes, airports, crashes, are significant to me. To me it has more meaning than the lucky ones who jet off on holiday and business without knowing how lucky they are, while I live in poverty and can't dream of choosing to fly. And despite all that, Shannon Airport has been so important to me and may well be more so in the future, if John knows anything. 

On Christmas Eve, the Departure and Arrival boards at Shannon read that Santa would arrive at 1 am and depart at 2 am, Special Flight. 

That road to Shannon with my friend ended in a sad and painful way, but the Shannon link continued, and I will know that road in my sleep forever. John's instruction was for something that never happened, perhaps, or maybe it will, in a different way or maybe he knew about last night. Last year something changed dramatically in my situation, with one of the men responsible for injustice to me being dramatically toppled for other injustices, and the pressure I was under became less and I felt safer, the emergency flight that created John's road to Shannon didn't happen, I think the slow road to healing started there. But last night at Shannon Airport, a long open wound was closed. 

'The Road to Shannon' is the diary story of my life in Limerick, started last year and on 40,000 words. To avoid confusion, it is not the same book as the novel I set in Limerick 'My arms are holding you' a fiction work, named in honour of the people of Limerick who from the moment I arrived, held onto me and held me to life. 

Limerick on a Saturday

I am neglecting 'The Road to Shannon' to write on this blog again, tut. And in case you're not indoctrinated, it's not because The Road to Shannon is paved with good intentions, it never was. I just prefer 198 to Shannon now. 

I've not been well. Quite a bad relapse. I have a metabolic or autoimmune condition which relapses and remits, it can hit hard and I am usually in relapse well before I realise it. The condition presents with aches and pains, tiredness not relieved by rest, increased difficulty walking, muscle fatigue and sudden muscle failure, depression, flashbacks, nightmares and disturbed sleep or trouble sleeping at all. 

Relapse isn't surprising as I've been out it very cold and wet conditions all week. It's been an endurance. And it's not just me, a rough sleeper friend who has been homeless most of his life was saying to me he's absolutely sick of this homeless life and the relentless weather.

I did wonder if I've also picked up a cold or virus and the cheap place I stayed recently had someone coughing and sneezing everywhere as well as slamming doors and shouting into their phone all night. I haven't felt well at all. 

I had a bad night and was having bad dreams about the man who left me homeless in Limerick. I went into town in a miserable mood, tired and aching. And then there I was in Limerick and the world became magical again.

As soon as I was in Limerick, people who I knew were around, there were hugs and chats and fist bumps and handshakes and laughter. My mood lifted straight away. I went to church as usual for my Saturday prayer, and sat on my wall as usual. I enjoyed the hustle and bustle of town on a Saturday and I said 'Limerick, I love you'. Limerick whispered back 'My arms are holding you'. As always, every day I'm in Limerick, the Limerick Love Song is in my head. 

Someone who went past told me they'd bring me food, so I waited, and my friend came and sat with me, he wanted to go for coffee but I told him someone was bringing me lunch, so he came back later and we went to a new coffee place, good prices and good coffee, so that was nice. Last week I told him about the man who left me on the streets, and he said 'That's not a friend, this is what friends do, we have coffee, we chat, we relate to each other'. 

Getting out and talking to people is important, especially when you're feeling bad and want to hide away, it can change things. I have had a lovely day in town. Life is tough but good people make it more bearable. Saturday is the best day to be in Limerick, everyone's around.

My arm is being twisted to tell the Clarecastle Mass story, someone in Shannon is going bright red at the thought while she is in Vigil Mass. Go on then.

So in Clarecastle, Mass is the third sport after Hurling and Hurling Missiles. Paddy is a well-known figure in Clarecastle, the missiles miraculously avoid Paddy, everyone loves him, Paddy, he likes his pint, he's a man. 

Paddy is always at Mass 10 minutes early and he has his seat at the front, no one else will take Paddy's seat, it's a small community and everyone knows their place. 

Paddy never misses Mass and is always in his seat. But one Saturday night, one drink turns into another and one story turns into another, and before Paddy knows it, it's morning. He's far from the first to go from drinking to Mass, Philip and the lads used to do this, but poor Paddy, he's taking it slowly down to the church, he's a little weary. 

Paddy is late for Mass! He goes in, his seat is empty, waiting for him. Mass has started but it's only in the first few minutes. Paddy walks up the aisle. He walks to the front. The priest is speaking. 

Paddy goes up, he says to the priest 'Look father, I'm late, you're just going to have to start again from the beginning',

The priest starts the Mass again from the beginning. 

Thanks for being good sports, Clarecastle. I'll do Ennis next.

+++++

When you feel at your worst, don't hide away, go and be among people a bit, even Angela did in The Limerick Love Story: 

Angela looked out into the dark, snow was falling lightly. 4 am. She dressed and headed out quietly, walking down the hill into town. Standing on O'Connell, she gazed at the Christmas lights as she did every day, with the wonder of a young child. She loved the silver teardrops, the coloured tree lights, and the Christmas trees. She watched the snow fall gently through the lights 'Beautiful'. She gathered snow off the low walls and benches to build a small snowman.

The Garda truck was taking it easy in its journey along O'Connell and slowed even more to see a woman building a snowman at 5.30 in the morning. Angela looked up and waved at the watching Gardai. The driver raised his finger and they moved on, deciding she was harmless enough. 'I have to get away from the nightmares' she told the retreating back of the Garda truck, but no one heard her. After a while she went into the gossip cafe and got a tea to take with her to her doorway. 

----

Michael was drained but relaxed from making love to Graeme as he walked through town to work with his coffee, enjoying the pre-Christmas atmosphere and lights. He tutted at Angela sitting on the step in the cold. 'You have a warm bed and breakfast and you've had a chest infection, Angela'. He shivered and pulled his wool coat round him, cold just to look at her in her cloth jacket. 

She sighed 'I have to get away from the nightmares, the bad feeling sometimes' .

Michael nodded 'I'll come and talk to you at lunchtime if you're around. I do understand what you're telling me. Try not to sit too long in the cold or bite too many legs'. 

----

At 12.15 Michael arrived with tea and coffee and a bundle. He handed Angela her tea and sat beside her. 'Drink your tea' he told her when she looked at the parcel he had with him.  She drank some tea, he opened the parcel. 'This is called a coat, it's designed to keep you warm'. 

'Ha'. 

'If you wear your coat, you get your treat, if not, you don't'. 

He could see she was interested but she wasn't going to ask what the treat was. Eventually she held out her hands for the coat, and he gently helped her to put it on, she didn't object. She made a lot of interesting faces and muttered her thanks. 

'Good girl, now gather your things and we'll go to your treat'.

'Where?' 

'I've finished work for the day, I only had a board meeting. We're going home to Graeme for the rest of the day to chill out and relax, have some fun and food'. He saw Angela smiling and he knew she was happy with the arrangement. They drove through the light snow, the snow wasn't impeding driving and didn't make great headway in settling, but enough to delight the children who were already getting hyped up for Christmas, Michael felt sorry for the parents, but remembered he'd have all that to look forward to. 

Angela's O'Connell Street in the snow. 

Patchworld

It's a patchworld, not perfect. My mother was a patchwork quilter, she patchworked like mad, and all her creations were unique. I once read a story about a woman who was creating a patchwork from life, the dark patches and the light. I didn't know my birth mother well, but I remember she was an outstanding quilter, and it's quite a skill, making each patch fit and belong. Life can be that quilt. 

I get dropped off in Limerick and I walk over Sarsfield Bridge in the early morning. I always stop and look at the Strand Apartments in the dark. I love looking at the Shannon in the dark with the lights shining but I also look over at the Strand Apartments, which tend to be mostly in darkness at all hours, even though the 2017 scandal where a corporate landlord tried to evict all their tenants there was so long ago.

I'm just recovering from an episode of my life where someone took me over, messed with my head, gaslit me, and among other things, promised me a wonderful HAP tenancy, in the many changes of potential tenancy, he offered me tenancies at the Strand Apartments, but in the end I realised there was no tenancy, he was messing with me. He left me on the streets of Limerick, shattered.

I am very grateful to all who stepped forward and helped me when I landed on the streets of Limerick and helped me towards what may be a more hopeful future. The patchwork of life brings both dark and light patches. We are not superhuman, things that happen to us affect us, and we have to find ways of finding the light patches, easier said than done when you're shrieking 'What light patches?!' I know, I've been there. 

My days on the streets of Limerick quickly developed into a routine. I always had my music in my ears and I would listen to songs such as 'By your side' by 10th Avenue North as I walked around the town, stood on Sarsfield Bridge or walked down to my storage unit at the Docks. That song is a real Limerick song for me now, it's great for walking to, and I'm autistic so I play it on repeat. I used to go in the church and pray for help in the early morning, and even when help came, I have always included the church in my early morning routine. I stop on the bridge, I go the church, I get my cup of tea, and I go to Arthurs Quay, in that order. I am typical autistic, I like my routines. 

I was hungry in my early days in Limerick, I found the daily soup run unwelcoming and too chaotic, and I have a tendency to hang back when there's noise and stress, I was going hungry, so as I sat on the street, I put up a little sign saying 'Hungry, please feed'. You know how autistic people put things exactly how they are sometimes. 'Hungry, please feed'. Someone obliged, and I was so happy to have a full tummy that I put up a sign with a smiling face saying 'Smile!' At the time, a female drug addict who was constantly bothering me came along and started abusing me for the sign. 

It turned out all I had to say to this addict every time she bothered me was 'Stop making a fool of yourself, addict, go home' and she'd go. A lot of addicts don't like someone saying to their face that they're an addict. I'm autistic, no one else would actually call someone an addict out loud, I'm very naughty, but she was being hurtful. 

Anyway, a few weeks later, I was sitting there watching the world, and a lovely young woman came along, she told me she'd seen my 'Smile' sign and she'd been feeling down, and she was inspired that a homeless woman with nothing could hold up a sign like that, and she'd gone away smiling. She was really nice, we talked for a while and she got me some food, but it made me think, I managed to get some bright patches alongside the dark ones.

I have survived all kinds of hell and horror and I have to live day to day with flashbacks and terrible memories, nightmares, night terrors and self doubt, but I live, and I rejoice in life. I love seeing the Shannon and the lights in the dark first thing in the morning and as I walk back in the evening. I love the cold dark winter days and nights, beautiful, I love the Christmas lights, I love Limerick. There is so much in life, and as I learned when I was youngster being used as slave labour on a farm, there is always more, this isn't it, and things won't stay like this forever, no matter what your situation. In my case, I want things to stay as they are, I want the long days in Limerick and the rest days in that little place out in the countryside to be forever, but they won't last, winter will pass and I will move into the town and onto the next step in my life. Live every moment and find reasons to live, and do as I did with the fake tenancies man, at great cost, get away from people who hurt you, the hurt will last, heartbreak is real, yes, but find ways to live with it, maybe write a blog. Writing things out, drawing it, painting it, cartooning it, talking it out, will help. 

As I said, I don't get paid to mention anything, I'm not advertising, but as I mentioned the song earlier, I find music essential to soothe and cope with daily life, and I'm always reading helpful books. A recent one is 'You will get through this night' by Daniel Howell. It's very comprehensive and if you're struggling you may find it helpful.

Stopping and looking at the world rather than hurrying past it can really help when you're feeling bad. I find looking at the Shannon so helpful. Life isn't just problems and looking and seeing the world doesn't need to wait until holiday time, if you have any holiday. Stop and see the world now. Even big inner city built up areas have charms worth looking at, indeed you can ponder for hours on how long and how many people it might take to remove all the rubbish.