Sunshine Gesture

(Photo by Ronan Courell)

There’s this gesture that Castlebar people use to each other when it’s been sunny for a few days in a row. It may be universal. I can’t say because I haven’t circumnavigated the world recently to check it out. So, let’s assume that this thing that people do in my County Mayo corner of the world is particular to here, even if it's not.

It’s just a tiny mime, really. One person meets another person on the street. They say hello and then one or other of the people extend both their forearms out to the side, keeping their elbows tight to their waist. Then they turn their hands palm upwards and look briefly skyward. The other person will generally contribute something like, ‘I know’ or ‘Isn’t it great?’ or ‘Long may it last.’ It’s a little pantomime that says, ‘Look at me, I’m holding out my hands and there is actually no rain falling on them. Can you believe it?’

Other countries get sunshine, obviously, but there aren’t many places where it’s arrival and persistence is celebrated quite so universally as it is here.

Here in the West of Ireland, we don’t usually get weeks of continuous sunshiny days. We do okay, the weather is generally mild and not too brutal, except in the very depths of winter. But summers can be drizzly and cloudy and a bit dull sometimes, so the arrival and persistence of some sunshine is an event worth remarking on and even performing a little skit about.

We’ve just had a few weeks of straight sunshine and there’s no question it raises the spirits. People sit out on the grass on the Mall (which is like a village square, unusual in Ireland) and stretch their white legs out. One prominent shopkeeper runs her store from the seat of her moped on the street outside the shop. She goes in when someone wants to buy something and chats to everyone that passes when her wares are not required. Outer layers of clothing are abandoned by everyone throughout the town and, of course, the weather is celebrated in practically every single discussion that is held.

For my part, I give up the umbrella that I nearly always carry. People remark on it. “We must be in for a long spell; you haven’t got your brolly with you.”

This past few weeks have seen a lovely spell of sunshine and warmth. The trees and birds have responded in admirable fashion.

This morning? Well, it’s drizzling once again. I hold up my palm and droplets fall onto it. My phone says there’s a 40% chance of precipitation, at least that is what I think it says. I’m never entirely sure. Whatever the phone app is saying, there’s a dark cloud looming out behind the clothesline and I think that 40%, whatever it means, may be a little bit optimistic.

Never mind. We had joy, we had fun, as the old song goes. And the sunshine will come back again one day soon.

In this we hope and trust.

Some Moments from Lillie and Enda’s Wedding

Friday was Enda and Lillie’s wedding in Galway City, and it was a good one.

No, strike that. Let’s start again.

Friday was Lillie and Enda’s wedding in Galway City, and it was a really great one.

Weddings are mostly about the people who are there, and I think that’s one key reason why this wedding was such a lovely day. There were just a lot of lovely people there. My day was warm and sweet and funny, from the very moment we opened the front door of the hotel and stepped inside. This was not some magic trick on my part. It was the people, pure and simple, and how lovely they all were.

We immediately met the groom, Enda Jnr., who had the kind of suit you’d like to get for yourself if you were getting married. His Mum and Dad, Ann and Enda Snr., were right there too. Enda is Patricia’s brother, and I usually am granted the pleasure of sitting with him at weddings. Not today. Today he had a whole different seat to fill. Ann looked beautiful and her default sunny firebrand mode pertained right through the day and long after I had stumbled off to bed.

There’s something about a G&T in a big roundy glass that just lets you know that you’re out. You can try to replicate it at home but it’s just not the same. A buzz went around that the bride was near, so we all hustled ourselves into the private area where the wedding was due to take place. We scored a seat a few rows back and wondered if we were too close, but we toughed it out and were rewarded with a top view of proceedings. A very well-dressed lady came up to the very front row and wondered if she’d be okay to sit there. I started to explain to her that the front row was probably reserved for immediate family when a gentle nudge from Patricia advised me that this was the Mother of the Bride. Apparently, women can identify Mothers of the Bride without actually knowing who they are. Another key difference between the sexes had thus been identified.

I thought the ceremony was really lovely. Lily was stunning in her bridal dress, and we've already covered Enda back up the text. The couple’s two sons were both highly present in the proceedings, culminating in the creation of an artwork made from coloured sand which the whole little family delighted in making. For a moment, there seemed to be no ceremony, no huge event. Just Mum, Dad and the two kids at play, being guided, messing up a little bit and, ultimately, making something special.

To the bar, where we scored a table and a big platter of hors d'oeuvres all to ourselves. The lady who had sung the eclectic music from the wedding ceremony (You’ve Got a Friend in Me), now set up across from us and started singing live to some gentle accompaniment from her technology. She had a lovely voice. After a while, she started to take requests, each of which she delivered with style and grace. I offered her one of my hors d’oeuvres, but she politely declined.

I always find great delight in meeting my Brother-in-Law, John. We hit the bar and had a respective pint and a glass of Guinness and started a conversation that proceeded to weave its way though the entire day. Topics covered included Quantum Physics, works derived from the work of Jane Austen, Bob Dylan, the Housing Market, Bargain Glasses and our mandatory heated disagreement which this time concerned the year that Jackson Browne played Lisdoonvarna. John is the very best.

Dinner came around and I had Eamon on one side and John on the other, with Patricia right across the table. An ideal arrangement. Eamon has a few years on me, and he is getting ready to jump out of an aeroplane in a few weeks. I asserted my view that he is a feckin’ lunatic. I seem to have turned into my Dad in many ways, one of which is a need to try to build a rapport with the persons serving dinner. My Dad had mercenary intentions in doing this as he always wanted to score a second helping of baked Alaska. I have no such desire; I think it’s just in my genes. Dinner rolled along with no sign of speeches. A lovely little girl, the daughter of a couple at our table, rifled her activity pack and found tiny stickers of coloured rainbows and I was gifted a particularly fetching one on the back of my hand. I treasured it right up until my pre-bedtime ablutions.

Speeches are always a high point for me. The acid smell of nervous sweat that gently emanates from the participants is like ambrosia to my senses. The food of the Gods, that is, not the creamed rice.

Lily delivered a compact, admirable speech. She is very much someone I wish I knew better. We meet from time to time, of course, but it is always at some family moment or other where time and opportunity do not always align. She is an admirable person who I see as having warmth and determination in roughly equal measure. Hopefully, in the coming years, we can sit down and I can demonstrate first-hand what a big eejit I am.

The speeches did not disappoint. Conor, Enda’s brother, was best man and the best fun in his speech was when he ribbed his brother warmly about such diverse matters as the maturing ability of his left foot and Enda’s youthful inability to progress beyond a second can. The fun in this was mainly derived from Enda’s seemingly heartfelt annoyance at Conor’s pronouncements. The subliminal effect was of two brothers of great closeness who have had a lifetime together to learn exactly how far to push each other and exactly where to stop.

Enda’s Snr’s gentle voice did not trouble the quirky microphone. Enda cannot help but be himself, no matter what the situation, and ‘himself’ is such a good thing to be that it carries us all along with him. His speech was warm and funny, and we were with him though every word, as we will always invariably be.

The Father of the Bride delivered an old school speech with a beautifully timed gag about gardening right in the middle. Kudos from this writer for that. His love and respect for his daughter shone through and I felt I knew her a little better when he regained his seat.

Tables were cleared and a lively band took up residence beside the bar. Hard working and entirely convincing, they filled the floor with ease at moments when so many bands can struggle. I always enjoy watching the band at weddings and these boys worked hard, every one of them multitasking their way through the set. Including the drummer, who seemed to be on Social Media duties while maintaining a dirty backbeat.

I am of the elder generation now and I don’t generally last into the traditional wee small hours. At around one-ish, Patricia and I executed a reduced version of an Irish Goodbye and slipped away. 

From where I was sitting, standing, and stealing late night pizza, it was a most excellent wedding, full of love and fun. Thank you for having us, Lillie and Enda, we hope to see you again soon.

Many congratulations to Enda and Lillie. They really make the most splendid couple, and this meagre blog wishes them many long decades of love and health and adventure with their lovely children and with each other.

As they said somewhere back in the Book of Tobit; “Grant that they may find mercy and may grow old together.”

4^th May 2025

Easter Parade

These days, there are many things can lasso and tie me up me that would never even have caused me to twitch back in my twenties or thirties. Take Irving Berlin for instance. Back in the day, I wouldn’t have thanked you for any mention of him. I knew some of his songs, as everybody does (whether they know it or not) but, beyond that his name evoked ‘old stuff’ and ‘out of date stuff’ and thus held no interest for a young Turk like me.

Times change. We change.

These days, I’m not an Irving Berlin fanatic or anything close to that. But his songwriting talent amazes me, his songs grab me periodically, and I find a large measure truth and authenticity in his work.

It’s Easter and that means that the film 'Easter Parade' is doing the rounds of the TV channels. Oddly enough, I don’t think you’ll find it easily on your television today but I’ve seen it appear three times in the last week and if we still had TCM I’m sure there would have been a couple more. Like ‘White Christmas’ before it, ‘Easter Parade’ seems to have now slipped into my consciousness. It is a part of my Easter weekend and if I don’t see at least some of it, I feel that I have missed out.

With ‘Easter Parade’ it is certain elements of the film that grab me, rather than the overall thing. Certain moments and set pieces make it special. For me, the musical number ‘A Couple of Swells’ is quite close to perfection. ‘A Fella with an Umbrella’ is one of those myriads of songs that Mum used to sing so it holds a place. ‘Drum Crazy’ is great showcase for Astaire and for how effortlessly wonderful he was. Steppin’ Out is iconic and jaw dropping in places. And ‘The Girl on the Magazine Cover’ seems naughty no matter how you dress it up.

But the part that gets me the most comes right at the end. Judy Garland decides to go and get Fred on her own terms. She sends him chocolates and an easter bunny and a hat. Then she calls and serenades him as he tries on his now garlanded top hat. The song she sings swells and sway and then easily grows into being Easter Parade. “With your Easter bonnet with all the ribbons on it, you’ll be the grandest fella in the Easter Parade…” Why is it a magical moment, for me at least? I can’t really say. But it is. It’s a bit clunky and old-fashioned and kitsch but I just think it’s great.

I think it’s best not to overthink why it is that something hits home in a nice way. Best just to go with the flow and find that something sweet and charming. To lay it out on a steel table and cut into it too deep might mean that the magic might drain away and be lost. There’s no question that it is largely due to sentimentality. These songs that were old when I was young still prevail. My Mum sang them as a young woman, just as Judy and Fred sang them in their time. And their times are all past now. Add to that that this year’s 5^th Avenue Easter Parade will happen later this morning and my younger son now lives there. Will he walk the Avenue? I doubt it. But it was unthinkable even last year that such a level of proximity could ever occur.

The world is a surprising and a fragile place and I guess we’d best take warmth and nostalgia from wherever we may happen upon it. Even if it is only a dated musical film on a late night channel or a clip on a YouTube link.

Have a Happy Easter.