Jean's Journal: ‘Turkey teeth’ and days out
by Jean Farrell
"What do you think of Teresa’s Turkey teeth?" a friend asked me.
I looked so puzzled by her question that she had to explain what she was talking about. Apparently Teresa had travelled to Turkey for a new set of teeth.
It reminded me of a man I know who is always talking about his marvellous ‘Belfast knee.’ People travel for various reasons indeed!
I was in Portugal for a week in April and learnt an important lesson whilst there. One morning our electricity went. Down at the pool area we met others. A woman told us all that her son had sent a text, from London, saying that the electricity was gone off all over Spain and Portugal.
Then, suddenly, none of our phones would work. There was no internet access at all. This was alarming, as the hours passed. No-one knew what was happening. All sorts of rumours were rife, like had a world war started? Small shops sold basics to anyone who had cash. Their supplies sold out very quickly. Pubs, cafes and supermarkets were all closed. Car owners were desperate to purchase petrol but there were no garages open.
One group, at the pool, were due to fly home to Liverpool that afternoon. With no access to the internet, they had no idea if their flights were going or not. They couldn’t phone their taxi or the airport. No one knew what was happening. It really was alarming and frightening to be cut off from everyone and everything. I hadn’t realised just how dependent we are on our phones for information and contact.
The day passed and people got more stressed as more rumours spread. As night approached we realised we had no candles. And then, at 10pm, the lights came on suddenly and a cheer could be heard from all over the resort.
What I learnt from that experience is that we should all have an old fashioned transistor radio in our house, with spare batteries. We can listen to news on this, which is vital. We should all have cash too, because cash machines need electricity to work. And, we should always have a supply of candles in our homes. Forewarned is to be forearmed.
On a lighter note. The following night, in Portugal, we wondered should we go into a bar which had this sign outside it, ‘FORBIDDEN: The sale and consumption of alcoholic beverages to persons to who presents notoriously inebriated or who appears own psychic anomanly.’ We presumed it means, ‘drunk or drugged!’
For those of you who would like a day out in Dublin, I can recommend some places I have visited recently.
A group of retired teachers went to Glasnevin Cemetery. (My granddaughter asked me “Why are you going to a graveyard, on a day out, Granny?”) Guided tours are available and ours was fascinating. We walked from the cemetery into The Botanic Gardens, all in Glasnevin. There, we dined and rested and wallowed in the beauty of this fabulous garden. The keen gardeners amongst us took a tour around it. Both places have good restaurants.
On another day, my sisters and I went to visit The Little Museum of Dublin. Again, I would recommend this highly. We had free travel on the train up and got free travel on The Luas into the city centre. We strolled up Grafton Street, turned left at the top and arrived at the museum which is very nearby, in number 15 St Stephen’s Green.
We were given a guided tour by a young man who is a natural performer. He was marvellous! There is so much there that you will relate to. For, as you know, what we used in our youth is now history!
My sister and I studied an old phone book with interest. Most of us remember when all the phone numbers in Ireland fitted into one book. The phone book in the museum predated the one we remember. It had a hard cover and was smaller. We found Coyle’s butcher shop’s phone number in it and we were delighted!
As we strolled along St Stephen’s Green afterwards we saw shops selling items for tourists. They were full of Aran jumpers and tweed caps. Queues of American tourists were at the tills. I went in to study the dog’s coat (pictured above). Would you believe it cost €40.99?
I often wonder do Americans not look out the windows of their buses and note that no Irish people here wear Aran jumpers or tweed caps!! And, definitely, no self-respecting dog would wear an Aran coat!
When we were young a woman, from Pearse Street, used to go to the pictures every night. There, in the dark cinema, she knitted Aran jumpers, honestly!
Another knitting tale! A woman got married in 1950. After a two-day honeymoon in Dublin she came to live with her mother-in-law and father-in-law. I was very surprised when she told me that she had never been in their house before that day. Her mother-in-law was quite critical of her and didn’t make her one bit welcome.
When all the day’s work was done they sat by the fire. Her mother-in-law didn’t approve of a woman doing nothing, so she handed her daughter-in-law needles and wool. She announced that knitting was ‘organised fidgeting’.
We learnt how to knit in national school. In fourth class we knitted socks, using four needles. Turning the heel was very complicated indeed. Weren’t we great little children? I wonder did anyone ever knit a sock afterwards. I didn’t!
jeanfarrell@live.ie