Last Post
This is the last piece I’ll be posting until at least week beginning October 16.
On Friday, I’m flying out to New York for a holiday postponed since last year when one of the friends with whom I’m travelling was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Now, surgery, chemotherapy, and a lot of prayer later, she’s joining us with a mop of short feathery hair, and a smile as wide as a rainbow. We’re all looking forward to this holiday.
We arrive back in Ireland on Saturday, 14th, and on Monday, 16th, the Oral Hearing by An Bord Pleanala (Ireland’s planning authority) into our local authority’s decision to grant permission to put high density construction on the flood plain downriver from our homes will begin…
These Oral Hearings are very like court cases, with the Planning Inspector acting as judge, and each side presenting their case. We have been told that the hearing is likely to go on for at least a week because of its size and complexity: it impinges on two separate local authority areas and two separate applications were submitted for each area – four applications in all.
No doubt the developers’ side will be represented by barristers, hydrologists, engineers, and all the power of expensive PR, including computer generated graphics.
Our side will be represented by local people, with a town planner as our only real professional. It’s David versus Goliath but we’re convinced we’ll win because the proposal to build where they want to build is so crazy – and so unnecessary.
‘David’s team’ met up again last Monday night to discuss strategy and pool our strengths. Among the other people (other than our immediate community, I mean) objecting to this scheme are an engineer, an architect, and a group of retailers from our traditional Main Street, who have commissioned a damning traffic study as well.
I sat in a corner and tried to concentrate through a streaming head cold that had my head, ears and throat aching, and every bit of liquid in my body pouring out through my eyes and nose.
The only thing I can be grateful for is that it has happened now and hopefully I will be healthy again by Friday morning and the long haul to the States.
Because of the meeting on Monday night, I saw none of ‘the family’ until last night, when I was relieved to find that Maria’s cold, at least, had greatly improved. She went to her training on Monday, and yesterday was out on the streets asking people to sign up to a commitment to donate a regular sum to a recognised charity on a regular basis.
She loves the team she’s working with (all young and multi-national), enjoyed talking to people on the street (busy Mary Street in the heart of Dublin city), and got two new donors to sign up!
“Were they men or women?”, enquired Wojtek.
“Men”, admitted Maria. “I find it easier to ask men.”
Wojtek grinned.
We were all comparing notes in a steaming kitchen as we went about our various meal preparations – all except Magda, whose working hours these days seem to absent her when most of us are at home.
For Wojtek, on the other hand, this all being together at mealtime is something he has enjoyed more over the past few weeks because the adjustment in his timetable has brought his clock more into synch with the rest of us.
“I used to come home early from work in the mornings and there was nobody up, or, if they were, they were still half asleep”, he explained. “And then in the evenings when everyone else was eating I was still in bed till I had to get up to go to work.
“It was so bad that sometimes I’d keep smiling at customers at night to get them to stop and talk to me!”
He has survived his first nights back at work well, helped by the fact that yesterday’s classes were cancelled, due to his tutor’s illness.
Gint is not working today and has agreed to do another ‘anti-flood’ job while he’s off. He will silicone around the double-glazed patio doors leading from my bedroom into the garden. They’re too wide for the flood guards I bought for the front and back doors, so the engineer who sold the flood guards came up with this temporary solution. He maintains that the double glazing will prove strong enough to hold back the strength of the water provided there isn’t a little gap through which it can make an initial break.
“Don’t forget to fill in the little hole for condensation”, he added.
Please God, none of this will be necessary. We’re again enjoying crisp dry weather and if this lasts through the next very high tide warning (6th through 9th October), at least I’ll be home to deal with the problem myself come the next crisis.
When I was repeating instructions to Gint about putting the flood guards in place if he got a call from a neighbour to say the river had broken, and giving him the telephone number of my nephew, who is an electrician, in case of emergency (because power is one of the first things to go in a flood), he demanded to know was he in charge then while I am away…
“You’re chief flood officer”, I prevaricated as the others listened, grinning.
“Then I can bring in beautiful women and have wild parties and…”
“Of course you can’t! You have an important job to do. You can’t be distracted by beautiful women.”
He was still muttering something along the lines of ‘glamorous sidekicks’ and ‘James Bond’, when I left the kitchen.
I had planned to write posts in advance for this time away from Ireland and away from my computer, and actually started to do so but ran out of time and steam.
The plan was, though, to write retrospectively about holidays I really enjoyed. One of those holidays (two, in fact) were spent walking along the Camino de Santiago, and to refresh my memory of place names along the way I picked up one of the books I really enjoyed about the camino experience.
It’s called ‘Pilgrim Snail’, and it’s about the 2,000 mile walk Ben Nimmo did from Canterbury to Santiago de Compostela, busking along the way with his trombone, to raise money for the memorial fund of his girlfriend who had been murdered while working for charity in Belize.
It’s a wonderful book – funny, touching, very visual and even aural. Ben is into trad jazz and the blues, and when he describes playing his trombone in old churches, and on mountainsides, you can hear the music…
Among his favourites were ‘Summertime’, ‘Danny Boy’, ‘Misty’, and – ‘The Last Post’.Â
I know, as someone with Girl Scouts in her blood, I should remember its haunting melody and its lovely words more often at times when I’m as stressed as I have been over the past weeks:-
‘Day is done, gone the sun,
From the hills, from the lakes, from the sky.
All is well, safely rest,
God is nigh.