Monday, June 30, 2014



I have had a Galaxy Samsung 3 phone for approximately two years, but have NOT used it except for the occasion when my beloved little pink Nokia phone found its way to the bottom of the toilet bowl for the third or fourth time. Thank goodness for rice. My daughters have been nagging me to get with the plot and take it out of its cute little black box and USE it.....but I love boxes! Imelda Marcos loved shoes....I love boxes....polka dots, stripes, flowers, leaning towers of Pisa and Blackpool, scantily-clad women etc I have them stacked in my office (woman's shed!), the toilet, the bathroom, the bedrooms, the kitchen....just don't stand still. The point being that they are both useful and pretty. Anyway back to the phone. I suppose it all boils down to the fact, that I am not one for reading instructions....boring! I am not interested in playing with the damn thing to find out what it does or does not do, but everyone else is doing it. Doing what I ask myself? Sometimes, when I hear about an app for this and an app for that, which has just earned some young whizz kid a huge amount of money (I don't begrudge a cent of it) and I am surrounded by 100 plus children trying to get them to move in one direction....together and then no voice for four weeks into the Summer, I ask myself why wasn't I born with a scientific brain. Anyway to borrow some lyrics from the musical Les Miserables....'The time is now, the time is here...'

I suppose the awakening began on the day I was flying out to Crete to celebrate my birthday. It was a day that had been planned and organized in an efficient manner, or so I thought. We have a holiday rental property called Honeysuckle Cottage in Ballinahinch, Golden, and I was driving over that morning to clean it and put in fresh linen, welcome pack and flowers etc etc before finishing the last minute bits and bobs of packing such as toiletries, phone, camera chargers and then the shower, the travelling gear on and the make up done. How quickly the best laid plans of women can be f....f....fouled up. Picture it if you can, driving along thinking of Crete; the sunshine; my birthday treat which was to watch the sun come up over the White Mountains the next morning, thinking about what outfit to wear travelling, when disaster struck. I heard a hissing from the passenger side front tyre. A puncture! Head in my hands against the wheel and freshly laundered towels and bed linen on the back seat; I spend a few seconds in suspended disbelief. Got out of the car and walked around to the other side of the car to look. A pancake....this was not funny at all and said so to the cows in the field beside me. It didn't cost them a thought though, as they continued to munch away; their tails swatting away predatory horse flies. You see they were quite happy to stay in that one field....perhaps I should be taking a leaf out of their book. What does a woman do in a situation like that,? She rings her husband of course. And of course what does he say? The usual....'How in God's name did you manage that?' I did ring him and then walked back up the road to take a look at what it was that had interrupted my reverie. There it was the smallest, but sharpest little grey rock. 'Bastard!' I thought and kicked it. Well you have to vent your frustrations in some form or another....poor rock. I then found myself muttering obscenities towards the farmer, whose wall was crumbling down onto the road. Walking back towards my car, I noticed that the back tyre was also punctured. Can you believe that....a double puncture. Now I wouldn't mind, but I had already suffered a double puncture caused by a sneaky rain-filled pothole last December. I mean I had never heard of anyone having a double puncture before, but here I was with my second. Anyway, it meant taking off two tyres and rushing to Cashel to buy two new tyres to replace two tyres that had only been bought last December, as we were driving to Dublin Airport in my car and had to be there by 3 in the afternoon. It was sorted, but there was no time for shower, wash hair etc. Hadn't time to fish out my camera charger, which had been put into a hat box with all the rest of my IT paraphernalia and mislaid during the woman shed set-up. We arrived at the airport by the skin of our teeth, and as the flight was delayed, I was able to buy a universal camera charger. All set now as I thought.

Watched the sun come up over the White planned gift to myself! Camera battery had been on charge all night ready for a visit to the German cemetry in Maleme, which I had wanted to visit for five years. Unfortunately, the battery wasn't charging and I presumed that the charger was to blame, so there were no photographs taken throughout the entire holiday. I was kicking myself for not having brought the Samsung. I'd have had time to play with it after all on holiday or perhaps my Greek friend would have shown me how to use it. He has all those I...wotsits!

Back in Ireland again, I discovered it was the battery that was at fault, but that the store no longer stocked that particular battery, because as I was informed, the cameras are being updated all the time. Yawn....yawn! I've learned since from another I.T. friendly friend that I can source it online. Thank God for I.T.....yeah! The point was however, that I was doing the flowers for a wedding last Friday and wanted to take some pics of my work, having finally conceded to my girls, that the only way to get on in business of any kind in this day and age, is to set up a website. No camera. I had no other choice but to find the cute little black box and take out the Samsung. I put it on charge overnight, and yes, you might have guessed, it hadn't charged. Something amiss with the charger I thought, but since I was collecting the wedding flowers from Limerick, I dropped into Harvey Norman and bought another charger. I needn't have bothered actually, because the Samsung was charged by the time I got home. I managed to take some pictures of the bouquets and button holes and my photographer friend, Caitriona very kindly came at very short notice to Bansha church and Kilshane House and took some professional pics. The Samsung went back into the cute little black box, but I am rather excited to announce that I have ordered a flip case for it from Amazon, as I discovered that as we are now up to Galaxy 5, it's difficult to buy a case over the counter for a Galaxy 3. So getting there....slowly but surely.

Today probably provided the final push mind you. I have been painting the outside of a house over the last few weeks. Today, I was up on top of a mini scaffold; armed with paint and paint brush; shorts on...lovely sunshine....birds whistling....the screams and roars of boys pucking a sliotar next garden down. Suddenly my little pink Nokia phone started to chirp in the pocket of my shorts, and as they're a wee bit on the tight side and I was wearing gloves, I did struggle to pull it out, and managed very cleverly to drop it into a gallon of cream paint. Luckily enough I had the sense not to go with my first thought, which was to run it under the tap. It came to T Shirt. I took it off and using the inside of it, I rubbed off the paint from the phone, as best as I could. I spread out the painted T Shirt to dry, and to my amazement my faithful old Pink Nokia phone was still working, and I was able to return the missed call. friends, the time has finally arrived. The sim card is going into the new phone as soon as the flip case arrives and I am going to master this Galaxy Samsung 3 before it becomes completely defunct. That doesn't mean I won't return to my little lime-washed Nokia from time to time. I'm like that I guess. Hard to let go of things that are tried and tested.....they tend to come around again.

I was like a child in a sweetshop for three 20 hour days last week...working with such beautiful flowers and listening to the radio at 3 in the morning. This is one of the songs that I had forgotten I loved.....Carly Simon for you and me singing Coming Around Again

Ciao for now!

Saturday, June 28, 2014



Sweet peas and lavender exasperate beauty.
With hues beyond flames of a setting sun,
And scents more explosive than the hawthorn's glory.
Delicate yet bold, from exile they entice
The regal red bullfinch to join in the fest. 

It wouldn't be summer without these two,
That tear open my chest to exhume my heart;
Then stroking, they resuscitate with a soft lullaby.
Delicate yet bold; I am forced to recall
Every nuance, every glance of that red troubadour.  

Maureen Walsh - June 2014

Ciao for now!

Saturday, June 21, 2014



She...her...melting footprints in the snow.
He....him...frozen fingers round a lace.
She...her...knotted knuckles at the jar.
He....him ..shattered speaking of the war.
She...her...wasted longing for a boy.
He and She...handcuffed prisoners in the past.

Maureen Walsh  -  June 2014

Remember to be kind........!

Wednesday, June 11, 2014



Blistering north wind scours:
Under the thick coating of black dust
Red of the stoker's nose turns purple
As load after load is shovelled
Into the engine hungry for fire.
Full, the steam train is ready to break free.
Kicking, it gathers itself and them
Away from guilt and torturous goodbyes;
The steed of steel is out of view;
Towards Dover it snorts full
Of Young hearts bent on death or glory
The platform once grey with waving arms
Is empty now, and silent... except for
Echoes of howling entreaties
Forever trapped in brick and track.
Blistering north wind rampages
And a flag of white dislodges.
It flutters for a while on a peeling blade of cold,
Then settles close by to a soldier's cap,
Worsted, and abandoned in the frenzy.
'Come back to me...,' the white flag reads,
'My heart stands still till you return.'
Did anyone read that note?
Perhaps the station's mouse, as he shreds it to nest
In the hollow of that cap.

Blistering north wind ravages;
Reddening young girls' legs to purple;
Squeezed into teetering heels, wearing black on black:
A last shivering show of respect to a good and honest man.
Inside Born Free plays, but are we?
Only truly hearing those words now,
Panic freezes the innards of each bowed head
And, for a split second stubborn blood refuses to flow.
'See you soon on the other side', floats across the open grave,
Flippant, but true from a workmate with calloused hands
And the map of his life, etched into red-veined cheeks;
Railway blackheads nailed into the folds of his neck.

Parting, such sweet sorrow....perhaps....?
But the blistering north wind ravishes!

Maureen Walsh - June 2014

Ciao for now!

Thursday, June 5, 2014


Joyce DiDonato is an American lyric-coloratura mezzo-soprano and is particularly admired for her interpretations of Handel, Mozart and Rossini. I came across this inspirational speech she delivered to graduating students of Juilliard conservatoire recently. She speaks directly and with great humility when pointing out that choosing a life in the arts is about the 'journey' rather than the 'destination'.

This wonderful singer suffered many many 'NO's' at the start of her career, but continuing the fight to be heard, she is now one of the world's leading mezzo-sopranos. Here she sings, Una Voce Poco Fa from Rossini's Barber of Seville. Such glorious, glorious singing!

Ciao for now