July 6-7
After Dingle we head North to visit our old friends Tom, Maureen and Martina Neilan. Those of you who’ve read the blogs from other years know that The Neilan family have been a touchstone for us. We first met them in 2014 and have been in touch with them ever since. We’ve never failed to visit each trip. From the first they’ve treated us like family, have folded us into their lives with family announcements, etc. The last two times we’ve visited, Tommy has been in hospital, this being the tall, strong man who’d run the farm, greeted us with jokes and tunes and always with a warm smile. So, with that background, we found ourselves pulling into the farm to find out that Tommy was in hospital once again. He’d only gone in a few days before our arrival. Martina greeted us warmly and Maureen was glad to see us. Also visiting were a couple who live in West Cork, Mary and Seamus. Martina met them through a prayer group that meets in memory of those who’ve died in the struggle to unite all of Ireland. Mary’s brother Thomas McElwee died in the hunger strike at Long Kesh prison in 1981. He was a member of the IRA, during the troubles and meeting his sister once again reinforced, for me, how those dark times effected so many families in Ireland.
Martina graciously fed us all with dinner and we had good conversations. Seamus and Mary were heading south toward Cork after dinner and in that time we were all invited to visit with them on our next visit. Seamus looked us seriously and stated, in regards to the invitation “a promise made is a debt unpaid”. Martina showed us to our rooms. James, Bridget and Morgan decided to visit Noemi (from the violin exhibit) in Corofin, not far from Shenaglish, to meet her partner and play some tunes. I begged off, the chest cold needed to be dealt with, and I wanted to work on the blog. I love the tunes and playing them but sometimes health has to be placed above pleasure. Martina graciously made up a fire in the sitting room and Molly, the farm dog joined me while I finished Goodbye Cork. I made my way upstairs and read myself to sleep.
July 7
The next morning we all caught up with the nights activities. They had met Noemi at her partner’s parents home in Corofin. He’s named Cathal, a nice young man, plays a good banjo and his parents were gracious hosts. Morgan told me that after they’d arrived Cathal’s father came in from the farm, hands black from a days work and chatted for quite some time. They spent most of the time visiting and didn’t play that many tunes, yet had a good time.
We decided that we’re going to drive to Galway City and visit Tommy at the hospital. At his age anything can happen. We fervently hope that we see him at the farm on our next visit, but nothing’s guaranteed in this life, so off to the hospital. Martina wasn’t clear re. visiting hours so when we arrived near 1:00pm we learned that visits were between 2:00 and 4:00. After a coffee at the hospital canteen we walked a few blocks to the the cathedral. It’s a 20th century design and construction yet quite impressive. The floors and dome above are of Connemara marble, which contains beautiful hues of green. After some time admiring the beauty we headed back to the hospital. Allowed admittance to the wing he’s on we waited until he was ready then surprised him. It took him a few seconds to register who were then that big open smile came to him and he launched in with a few jokes. He wasn’t sure when they were going to allow him home but he was improving. He was ready to lie down so we bid him farewell, although too short a time, we were glad that we visted.
North west out of the city we drove toward Clifden, hopefully to see our Irish friend from Spokane, Roisin and explore Connemara, which we’d never been to. The country is breathtaking, mountains that rival those in Cork and Kerry, sweeping vistas, Ireland is a gem. We’d rented a small section of a cottage, which at first look it felt great, 3 ensuite bedrooms nice location, but after one night we realized it suffered from damp. Significant damp, enough so that James and Bridget’s bed sheets were damp. Morgan’s was OK and my bed was fine but when I woke up the next morning the socks I’d left on the floor were wet. The old place must be like a lot of old cottages, a packed earth floor with no vapor barrier which had been overlaid with flooring. The moisture was wicking up. We all have a cold and are recovering but decided to come to our rental in Westport a day early. One more night in the damp wasn’t going to be good for any of us. We’d booked our Westport home with one overlapping day, so we were free to arrive earlier than planned. We never did visit with Roisin. We’ll have to wait until we’re all back in Spokane.