Guardians of Grail

cheapbag214s · Posted: Thu 8:16, 19 Sep 2013 Post subject: God must have forgotten about me

God must have forgotten about me
"I was born in 1915 and isn't that alright! God must have forgotten about me." The wrinkled old woman chortled into her scarf, eyes twinkling to light the day as she chuckled a wheezing and toothless sound,[url=http://woolrichparkaschweiz.albirank.net/][b]Woolrich Parka Schweiz Online Shop cheap woolrich winter coats woolen mills[/b][/url], made merry by her glee. This old woman lives on the remote Tory Island, off the coast of County Donegal in the north of the Republic of Ireland. She is one of the last generations of hardy souls who have lived through the troubles in Ireland, and managed to keep a healthy sense of humour and wholesome view on life and old age.
We are honoured to live amongst the rural people of Connemara with their crinkled faces and ready smiles; amongst the muddy, battered suits and shoes of the farmers, where you find their women bundled into warm and nondescript coats, with dresses which take you back to the 1970's and 1980's. At home,[url=http://parajumperssalefreeshipping.webmium.com/][b]parajumpers sale free shipping Hampton Roads Technology Council for sale[/b][/url], a few of the old women still wear the old-fashioned black shawls that were customary for centuries before the Celtic Tiger boom arrived in Ireland. It's not something you see every day in the villages however.
I remember clearly, during our first year in Connemara, enjoying the spectacle of two women demanding their share of the craic (the Irish term for "fun atmosphere") in a packed pub in Galway. The cheekiest little woman, as short as an inch measure, had not combed the back of her hair in years. Perhaps she could not reach. Maybe she felt "you don't do what you can't see". Her skinny little legs were sticking out from beneath her hardy skirt, stripy legwarmers bagged around her calves, and shoes with buckles bigger than the ankles on her. She and her side-kick marched up towards the bar, ducked and shouldered their way in through the crowds, and finally emerged victorious with their pints in their hands, way before some of the men who had been standing three deep at the counter for a while. Full of nonsense and chat they were!
In our favourite pub at Maam Cross, there's one little farmer who I am sure is a leprechaun in disguise. As small as a garden gnome, with shoes big enough to float him to America, a tattered suit with the jacket threatening to drown him, and a battered cap on his head, he "rolls" into the pub with a walk unique to himself. Long, measured steps which have been cultivated to compensate for his lack in height, or maybe so that he can cope with those huge shoes! Beady little eyes cast shyly downwards, he heads straight into the local's corner for his pint and a hearty conversation in the Irish (the Irish Gaelic language) with his fellow farmers. The trouble for him is that his bladder must be as small as he is, because before long he is rolling out again, eyes downcast but seeing everything, and off to make room for the next pint of the black stuff, the porter.
Quaint it may be,[url=http://giuseppezanottimenssneakers.webmium.com/][b]giuseppe zanotti sneakers men 2013[/b][/url], but Galway is still a city with men-of-the-pavement. These loiterers really are more of a cabaret than a nuisance,[url=http://giuseppezanottimenssneakers.webmium.com/][b]giuseppe zanotti sneakers men- New Fall/Winter 2013 Collection[/b][/url], from what I have seen! They sit in chummy little sodden groups,[url=http://woolrichparkaschweiz.albirank.net/][b]http://woolrichparkaschweiz.albirank.net/[/b][/url], not hassling anyone, and often singing and giggling amongst themselves, happy as a cartoon. One evening a pair of gentlemen found themselves a convenient doorway, just big enough for a cardboard cushion and space for their two behinds. They were happily sharing a bottle of non-water, passing it to and fro, and telling each other jokes with much hilarity and elbow nudging,[url=http://2013rogerviviershoessaks.blogspot.com/][b]Cheap Roger Vivier Boots Sale Online[/b][/url], rocking with laughter on their two-bum seat, and totally ignoring all curious and amused passersby. What a wonderful night out they had, on their own private step restaurant.
I have a story to tell of a gentleman who typifies many of the people here in County Galway. One evening in late December, I sat in the car parked on the perimeter of Eyre Square, which is Galway's town square, waiting for my husband,[url=http://woolricharcticparkauomooutlet.olimx.com/][b]http://woolricharcticparkauomooutlet.olimx.com/[/b][/url], Alan, to finish work. Each year a Nativity Scene is erected within the memorial archway on the square. My car was parked right next to the archway and I was captivated, watching the passerby's reactions to the Nativity Scene. Youngsters and young parents were just happy to have a cheerful look,[url=http://woolrichoutletdeutschland.olimx.com/][b]http://woolrichoutletdeutschland.olimx.com/[/b][/url], show their children the figures in the stable and wander on. Folk in their late forties and older, all reached into their pockets for the collection, most of them said a small prayer, crossed themselves and walked on,[url=http://duveticajacketsoutlet.olimx.com/][b]Duvetica Jackets Duvetica Online Duvetica Outlet Duvetica Sale Duvetica Vest Duvetica Coat Duvetica Kappa[/b][/url], but one hunched and shabbily dressed man, who must have been in his mid-fifties, was so active with crossing himself, that I started to count how many times he did it! Seventeen times, and that was long after I started counting! I was amazed. Even after that holy marathon, he was reticent about walking away, and kept gazing back at the Nativity Scene, fighting a battle of wills with his feet which were intent on going home to have their tea.
A fellow Tory islander to the old woman whom God must have forgotten, offered her story: "And will I tell you a story then?" She settled into her chair, toothless and wrinkled mouth split below mischievous eyes, and proceeded to tell the story of how her aunt was looking out from her front room window in the village one evening, and in the half-light saw the Hundred Year Mass celebrated by the Fairies, passing down the cobbled street outside! Such a joyous and musical procession it was. Well now. If you didn't believe in Fairies before,[url=http://giuseppezanottioutletonline.webmium.com/][b]giuseppe zanotti outlet online[/b][/url], you most certainly would have after hearing her story of the dancing fairies at dusk. There was not a shadow of doubt in her mind that the fairies exist, and that her aunt saw them. To this day you will find old folk who will tell you "little folk" stories that they have experienced. Especially these fey folk who live in places like Tory Island where Patsy Dan, the poorest king in the world, resides and where it is believed the island clay has magical powers.
"You got a frog's bone in yer pocket you can do anything with a horse. Only that got to be the right frog's bone." I read that somewhere but could so easily have heard it from the farmers who flock to the annual horse fairs around the country. We have a horse mart here in the Maam Valley each October, which brings farmers from far and wide,[url=http://merrellshoesusaonline.blogspot.com/][b]merrell shoes usa online[/b][/url], rattling along with their homemade trailers in tow,[url=http://monclerjackenoutletonlineshop.albirank.net/][b]Moncler Jacke Günstig Moncler Jacken Outlet Online Shop Kaufen 88%Off[/b][/url], and with their puppies, chickens, ducks and goats to sell alongside magnificent horses and Connemara ponies. The small pub is closed and moves its liquid supplies to the big hall at the back of the hotel, where hot Irish Stew is dished out along with copious amounts of Guinness, to the merry sound of a local band. Banjos, guitars and a bodrahn (Irish hand-held drum) or two twirl out fast Irish reels to which the heaviest, clumpiest boots manage to tap out the most intricate dances with much encouragement and hilarity. All this while, business is thick in the air and good deals are being made outside in the mud and the slush. Bundles of muddy cash are casually shoved into trouser pockets after endless negotiations, sealed with a be-spittled handshake, and proud new owners lead horses or donkeys down the road, through the patient trail of traffic which has built up.
Tractors are the family car for many farmers in Connemara,[url=http://duveticacanadashop.halod.com/][b]duvetica jackets canada outlet shop duvetica down jackets online sale[/b][/url], and I'm not talking about big modern tractors either. They are the red or green, ancient, original models, lovingly kept and maintained. My husband, Alan, was driving down a country road one day, not long after we arrived in Ireland, and was caught behind a tractor with the farmer driving, his sheep dog up in the cab beside him, and his wife, bedecked in her best, lying in the bouncing bucket of the tractor! She was being bounced and thrown around, but all the while happily chatting to her husband,[url=http://2013rogerviviershoessaks.blogspot.com/][b]http://2013rogerviviershoessaks.blogspot.com/[/b][/url], anticipating a good day's shopping in the nearest village! Then there is the old farmer whose driving licence expired during a time when he was ill. When he recovered, he was too old for his licence to be renewed, so he just drives his oil-needy tractor to Galway and back, some fifty-odd kilometres of main road. Grrrrr squeak grrrrr squeak grrrr squeak, and there he comes down the road, spot on time to meet his mates at the pub in town.
Life is rich on this small island where your address is a description of landmarks without a postal code,[url=http://monclerwesteherrendaunenjackebillig.albirank.net/][b]http://monclerwesteherrendaunenjackebillig.albirank.net/[/b][/url], where your whereabouts are known by the pub you usually drink in on a particular night, and where the postman knows your name (and usually your history) and delivers the TV you ordered, lifting it out of his van single-handedly with a cheery grin and a joke.
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