Lily's Blog

The Catholic Church as an organisation has been found to be severely wanting. For so long the Catholic Church really ruled this country. Meanwhile what they were up to, when not telling our parents and grandparents how to live their lives in a moral way, begars belief. The utter hypocracy of it all. Denis and the three boys have always said they were atheists. I would have said I was a lapsed catholic. I’m much further than lapsed now.

The Ryan Commission report showed that ‘Physical, emotional and sexual abuse was ‘endemic’ in institutions run by the religious congregations throughout the 20th century, blighting the lives of thousands of victims … The Department of Education failed to carry out proper inspections and disregarded the violence within the industrial school system for which it was responsible … The abuse related to 216 different schools, homes, hospitals and fostercare situations, though the vast majority was reported in industrial schools and reformatories … The abuse dated back as early as 1914 and as late as 2000, but the vast majority of reports covered the period from 1930 to 1990 … violence and neglect were not the result of underfunding – the large institutions where the worst abuse was inflicted were ”well-resourced”’

We shouldn’t really have been so surprised. Case after case in the courts over the years had told us the nature of the abuse that went on. The report really only revealed the widespread and systematic nature of the abuse. Another report is due out shortly on Child abuse in the Dublin Diocese. We have been warned it too will be shocking.

Whilst we all rail against the Catholic Church, many others had to know what was going on. Doctors/nurses must have seen evidence. Outsiders must have seen evidence. The judiciary was involved in committing children to these institutions. The ISPCC (Irish Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children!) was involved. The Department of Education was involved. Complaints were made to the Gardai, to the Dept of Education, to Health Boards, to Priests and members of the public. By co-operating or by remaining silent they must share blame for what went on. I know it was a different time and we are judging with ‘2009 lenses’ but I cannot accept that ordinary decent folk at any time would have felt this was an acceptable standard of behaviour.

I started writing this post about the myriad of institutions which have really let us Irish people down. Out of deference to all sufferers of abuse at the hands of the Catholic Church, I won’t write about any of the other institutions in this post. The disservice by other institutions is not in the same league as that of the Catholic Church so in all conscience I cannot write about them together.

It’s funny Ireland had a name as a land of saints and scholars. I could think of better descriptors at the moment.

I have to admit that I’m kind of glad that Denis’s uncles, both priests, are now dead. I feel they would both have been so upset for the great harm done by members of their faith. I truly do feel sorry for the many religious people who did so much good yet they probably feel so hurt by and some responsibility for, the actions of some members of their faith.

I was at a ceremony in the last week at which a priest spoke. I deliberately could not and did not listen to what he had to say.

The front page of today’s Irish Times reveals that two priests in Co. Louth have written to parents with a 10-point list of ‘rules and regulations’ that must be adhered to in a forthcoming Confirmation ceremony. I think they should have left their pens in their pockets this week.

I really am beginning to despair.

Because of all the harm inflicted by Irish men and Irish women on Irish children – this week, I am not proud to be Irish

Manchester United are playing Barcelona in the Champions League Final. I’m sitting here watching it with Denis and John while writing this post.

If re-incarnation comes about and we can choose where we re-land, then I want to come back on earth as a striker for Man United. Shove over Rooney or Ronaldo, I want one of your positions. I’ve always regarded soccer as a very elegant sport. On the otherhand I think rugby is open warfare between foot soldiers. That brings to mind the saying, ‘Soccer – a game for gentlemen played by hooligans. Rugby – a game for hooligans played by gentlemen.’

I got into watching European soccer with Patrick when he was quite young. He kind of left it and I kind of stayed. I remember Patrick wrangling a bigger screen television out of us for some Champions League Final a number of years ago.

However, I think I will have to reconcile myself like poor old Lucy Jordan when,
At the age of thirty-seven she realised she’d never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.

Current score Barcelona 1, Man United 0.

The Pareto principle is also known as the 80-20 rule or the the law of the vital few and trivial many. This law implies that for many events, roughly 80% of the effects come from 20% of causes. The secret is in identifying the 20%. Many years ago I lectured in Quality Management at Sligo IT. Then and there I spoke frequently of Juran.

Juran (1904 – 2008) was a 20th century US management consultant who is principally remembered as an evangelist for quality and quality management, writing several influential books on the topics. He suggested the Pareto Principle naming it after the Italian economist Pareto, who observed that 80% of the land in Italy was owned by 20% of the population. In business 80% of sales come from 20% of clients. One can think of many instances in life where the 80-20 rule is applicable.

Although born in Romania, Juran moved to Minnesota when he was eight. He earned his primary degree from University of Minnesota. When he died in 2008, he had been married for 81 years. Doing the sums that means he married at 15!

That’s Tommy’s next birthday!

That’s the scene of action for Tommy in the US. We head to Minnesota for his next appointment with Dr. Gage in August.

I can’t cope with disorder. I can’t cope with clutter. Even when camping I have to have the campsite tidy. It makes for more work in the short-term but a lot less in the long-term. I’m a compulsive ‘everything has a home’ sort of person. Surfaces have to be clear. ESB bills go in their file. Bank statements go in theirs. I hate wasting time having to look for things. I know I’m so boring, but its the only way I can cope! I phoned a friend at the weekend and we were talking about blogging, she having just come across mine through Facebook. I told her I had started a blogpost on tidying! She said tidying makes her calm. I replied that it’s the exact same for me! If I am frazzled, I find that tidying calms me down. God our house is fairly tidy, there must be alot of frazzlement, or whatever the word is!

I’m a compulsive ‘get ridder of things’. So much so that occasionally I go to put on some item of clothing and realise it went in the last clear-out of clothes, an ongoing process. I reckon I must be getting the balance right in the ‘does this go or stay?’ decision process, when sometimes I want something that’s gone. My motto is ‘if in doubt, throw out’.

Which really brings me to the title of this post ‘Less is more’

Denis had an uncle who lived in America, now sadly deceased. He regularly visited Ireland, travelling around, staying with various family/friends. On one three week visit, he was staying with us for a few days. At some point he asked me to get something for him from his case. I went up to his bedroom and got whatever he looked for. I was amazed at how few clothes etc he had with him. Everything for his three weeks fitted in one carry-on case. This really stuck in my mind and I learned from him that day.

To this day we now always go on holiday just with hand luggage. When the boys were younger we had five small cases, one for each person. That was the Collison baggage allowance. Michael O’Leary would have been proud. It takes much less energy to have fewer possessions. This ‘baggage allowance’ is regardless of how long we go away for. If longer, then I assume we will have access to laundry facilities. I don’t really want a two week collection of dirty clothes accumulating!

What I notice about eldest mouse, who is now living away from home, is that his approach to possessions hasn’t changed at all. He has as few as he always had.

The only place where this doesn’t apply is with a box called ‘Nostagia’. This is a box where things went such as: ‘works of art’ by three much younger mice, birthday cards, letters, school graduation booklets etc etc. When the box is full, it goes up in the attic and I start a new box. I reckon after 20 years, we might have a laugh going through some of the contents. It’s a great place to put things which may be of sentimental value that I don’t want to throw out. The boys joke me ‘Oh this will be going into the nostagia box!’

I’m not suggesting this for everyone, I’m only making a personal comment but ‘Less is best’ certainly works well for me, most of the time at least!

Patrick recommended Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro in a comment on a previous post. The Sunday Times rated it ‘the year’s most remarkable novel’ and it was runner-up for for the 2005 Booker Prize. (beaten by John Banville’s The Sea). Told through the eyes of Kathy, now thirty one, the story is a recollection of her schooldays and the years after finishing at Hailsham School. Eventually we discover the fate that awaits Kathy and her classmates. The book tells of the friendships and relationships which develop in this strange setting. Never Let Me Go is an unusual book and took me a little to get into, but I was so glad I persisted. Well worth reading.

The outcast by Sadie Jones is a good read. This novel was shortlisted for the 2008 Orange Broadband Prize for fiction (awarded for the best original full-length novel by a female author published in the UK in the preceding year). ‘The Outcast’ was set in 1950’s rural England and tells the story of Lewis Aldridge, a young boy who becomes an outcast in his local community. The story winds around a drowning, church on Sunday, excessive drinking, lunch parties, self-harm, arson, cocktails at six-thirty … It tells of how events shaped Lewis’s life. This is Jones’ first novel and I hope she continues to write.

Tenderwire is the second novel by Irish writer Claire Kilroy. It tells the story of Irish violinist, Eva Tyne living and working in New York. It describes her search to become the owner of a rare violin of dubious origin and the effect the violin subsequently has on her life. Beautifully written. I haven’t yet read her debut novel, All Summer, but it’s on my list.

My problem it to make enough time for reading, roll on the holidays.

Grouse Grind is in my words a ‘very long set of outdoor wooden stairs, built on the side of a mountain’, just outside Vancouver city. Quoting from the Grouse Grind website.

Hikers were first recorded on Grouse Mountain back in 1894 when a hunting party shot a blue grouse bird and named the mountain in the bird’s honour. It wasn’t until the 1920’s and early 30’s, however, that Grouse Mountain saw the first big wave of adventurous hikers.

Often referred to as “Mother Nature’s Stairmaster,” the trail has become part of the fabric of Vancouver. More than 100,000 hikers a year take on the challenge of the rugged terrain and steep climb, up an approximate 56 per cent slope (30°), which starts at the Valley Station of Grouse Mountain and finishes at the Peak’s plateau.

I wrote in a previous post of my visit to Vancouver last September. On the Sunday I was there, Patrick was busy studying for his flight exam. Brian, Patrick’s friend suggested we go and climb Grouse Grind. I was all on for that. He and Katie, his girlfriend had just completed it a few days earlier.

I don’t know what I was expecting but suffice it to say I hadn’t read a description of Grouse Grind first. I’m fairly fit and have a competitive streak in me but had I known it was as many steps, I would have made sure to have eaten well beforehand! It involved climbing 2,830 steps rising up higher than the highest mountain in Ireland. (Grouse Grind 3,700 feet: Carrantwohill 3,395 feet).

I have done a number of marathons and one triathlon but on Grouse Grind, I hit the wall early. Poor Brian I’d say was worried. I was determined though. Nothing would stop me from finishing it.

We reached the top in exactly the same time as he and Katie had a few days previously. I was pleased to have reached the summit. Brian was much less pleased with our time. He emailed me shortly after I got back to Ireland, to say he had gone back and climbed it alone, naturally much faster. I have just looked up his email now but unfortunately can’t find it to record our time. (Brian you can leave a comment with the time, if you remember it! I’d like to think it was just under an hour?)

The stats for Grouse Grind are:
Length: 2.9 kilometres (1.8 miles)
Elevation Gain: 853 metres (2,800 feet)
– Base: 274 metres above sea level (900 feet)
– Summit: 1,127 metres (3,700 feet)
– Total Stairs: 2,830
Statistics: Annually, over 100,000 people hike the Grind™.
Average Time: On average it takes up to an hour and a half to complete the hike.
For novice hikers, up to two hours is recommended.
Participants: Hikers range in age from 7 to 90, with an equal male/female split.
The official course record to date for men is 26:19 minutes. For women, the record is 31:04 minutes

Judging by the age profile of climbers, I have a few years left in which to climb it. To re-climb ‘Stairway to Heaven’ would be one of the many reasons I would like to go back to Vancouver.

Kathyrn recently wrote of her upcoming trip to India. She got me thinking about a trip I made to India in 1986. That summer I spent two weeks travelling in India with a friend from college, two weeks in Bangaldesh, visiting my sister a volunteer with Concern, and finally five weeks in Australia travelling with a friend from work.

This post isn’t about my travels. It’s about Barbara Gill, the friend from college with whom I visited India. Barbara died two years ago after being knocked down in a bicycle accident on the quays in Dublin.

Barbara was the first person I met in a big lecture theatre when I started college in 1975. I had started first term late (story for another day), so by the time I got there alot of early introductions had been done. I was amazed to find the first person I met immediately knew cousins of mine because of my unusual surname (Cocoman). My father’s family hailed from a remote village, Clonbullogue in Co. Offaly, certainly not well known at all. Yet the first person I bump into in Trinity came from there. Barbara immediately introduced me to a group of people. This sixteen year old was on her way. We remained friends throughout college.

Barbara then went on to do research, then teaching.

Barbara was one of life’s eternal givers. When we travelled to India together, Barbara did the tourist thing for those two weeks but then went on to work as a volunteer with VSI (Voluntary Service International) for the remainder of that summer. In later years she was heavily involved in groups such as Amnesty International, Fairtrade. Her life-long interest in third world development lead her to work as a Lecturer in development aid at the Church of Ireland College of Education and St Patrick’s College, Drumcondra. In fact it was while cycling from Hueston station to her work, that Barbara met with her death.

Barbara and I had lost contact for a number of years but in the last few years, a group of us had started to meet up at each others house annually. I was so glad we had done so.

Her funeral in Clonbullogue was an amazing experience. People flocked to that small village to pay their respects, from very far and very wide. I had been to a number of parties at their lovely farmhouse. It seemed so strange for a crowd to gather there after her death. I remarked to her mother that it was the biggest get together of people from our class in Trinity since we graduated. She commented that almost every single person from her 70’s secondary school class from Kings Hospital were also there.

Barbara lived in Kilkenny with her partner Ruth. They had just become the proud parents of a baby boy shortly before her death. Barbara had lobbied hard for the recognition of same-sex couples. Her elderly parents continued this fight after her death. The recognition of same-sex unions has implications at so many levels including inheritance rights.

When Patrick and John were on the Late Late Show, we were in the ‘Green Room’ before the show, having a drink. Near us was an elderly man, sitting alone. I thought I recognised him but couldn’t put a name on him. I asked him if he was appearing on the show that night. He said no his wife was. I immediately realised why I recognised him – Barbara Gill’s father. If people think that Late Late show was emotional for me that night, it was, but twice. Barbara’s mother was interviewed by Pat Kenny. She was amazing. Here was an elderly couple from rural Ireland, carrying on the fight to recognize same-sex unions on behalf of their dead daughter, their grandson and their daughter’s partner.

Quoting from an article writte by Alan O’Keefe in the Evening Hearld in October 2008:

Schoolchildren in Africa will honour an Irishwoman whose tragic death led to a big increase in help for their education. A memorial plaque for Barbara Gill will be unveiled in a new secondary school in a district of Eritrea on October 27. Barbara was 49 when she was killed after being struck by a lorry while cycling in Dublin. Her ambition had been to help build a school for children in an impoverished Eritrean community.

Barbara had visited the east Africa region with the Irish charity Self-Help Development International. She had a particular interest in education as her career involved training Irish teachers on third world issues. Friends and family decided to continue a fundraising drive started by Barbara to build a badly-needed secondary school in a remote Eritrean district.

Barbara and her partner, Ruth O’Dwyer, lived together near Castlecomer, Co Kilkenny, and had rejoiced in the birth of their baby son, Stephen, a short time before her death.

A huge outpouring of support ensued after her funeral and more than €100,000 was eventually raised for the project. The school was built thanks to the fund and to the efforts of the local Eritrean community. Locals helped to dig the foundations for the school and took an active part in completing its construction. Barbara’s parents, Bill and Margaret Gill, will leave their farm in Clonbullogue, Co Offaly, to fly out to Eritrea on October 25 for the ceremony.

The Eritrean Minister for Education may attend.

Bill (77) said Barbara’s school project, which will serve more than 1,000 pupils, was a source of comfort to them. Margaret told the Herald: “We will be meeting local people and listening for ways the fund might continue to assist them in providing what they need.” Accommodation near schools is often needed to attract teachers from cities to settle in remote areas with few public services.

The couple will be travelling with members of the Irish charity, which merged recently with Harvest Help in the UK to become Self Help Africa.

After Barbara died I felt it was a pity that her obituary wasn’t published in the paper. She had touched so many lives. Maybe in my own little way I am paying tribute to Barbara Gill, a truly remarkable woman

Chapter 1 Introduction

Babe was a pig who thought he was a dog. Our two dogs are dogs who think they are pigs. They behave like pigs. They dig holes like pigs. They uproot plants like pigs.

Such dear Babes.

Chapter 2 The damage

One last flower remains. The rest have been presented to me as gifts ‘out of the mouths of babes’.

The two pots at the back are now ‘plantless’ courtesy of Babes.

The remains tell their own sorry story.

These are only some examples, I have more examples of their work, play
efforts at what? Oh! I don’t know.

b) Grannymar's white vinegar

c) The electric fence (not really all that electric, a radiofrequency system) that keeps the dogs at home.

Chapter 4 Babes in action

Chapter 5 Conclusion

Only one thing that works. The electric fence. Such a lovely thought …
Each plant surrounded by its own little electric fence …
A garden of plants and electric fences.

Oh I wish I hadn’t dogs …
pigs …
herbivorous, whatever they are.

Lily, a defeated gardener.

Thank you to each of you for getting in contact. It was really lovely to meet some readers of the blog. I know a blog is written to be read but I always tend to dissociate the two actions, the writing and the reading of it. I’m always humbled by the fact that anyone actually reads it. Thank you for reading the blog and for your feedback.

As TrustTommy says ‘Normal service will resume’

Lily

Dear reader,

Thank you for reading my blog. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I’m enjoying writing it. I’m finding writing posts a great escape from all the bad news on the state of our economy. One couldn’t watch the news or read a paper here in Ireland without becoming depressed. If it serves as an escape, then I truly hope this blog has a short life for all our sakes.

The purpose of this letter is to find out who my readers are. I know some of you because you have told me so, or have left comments. I really value your company.

A breakdown of the last 500 visitors shows the following

	403	80.60%	Ireland
	69	13.80%	Canada
	14	2.80%	United States
	6	1.20%	United Kingdom
	4	0.80%	Hungary
	2	0.40%	Germany
	1	0.20%	Thailand
	1	0.20%	Malaysia

I can see that the main readership is in Ireland followed by Canada, then the US. I really welcome Patrick and John’s friends from Canada and the US.

Welcome to each and every one of you. I’d love to know who you are. Please if you have time, just drop a comment on this post. I’d love to meet you the reader.

Lily

An outlier in the blogosphere