We thought we had it all set up, we thought we had it all arranged: we would move into our house on the Saturday and the man was coming to sort the Internet on Monday. We can do that we thought, we can cope in this 4G black hole for two days. But things never work out like that do they?
The Pole Across the Road
On said Monday along came the ‘Internet Man’, as we unofficially entitled him. In he came with just a clipboard and happily informed us the we could not have wire from the pole across the road coming across said road to our bungalow because our bungalow was too low!? Personally I thought that was de-rigueur (see I did learn some French on my French adventure) for bungalows, but who was I to argue. I could however see his point that if a large tractor trundled past it would take our internet cable off down the road to the cows, who would have no use for it at all.
We did suggest that he take it to the Chimney, but it appears you cannot attach things to the chimney now, because the men are not allowed to work at height! It appears that telegraph poles are not high, but chimneys on bungalows are. Is it me?
The Telegraph Pole Disguised As A Tree
Then he looked across our paddock, which is virtually inaccessible at the moment, the cats are loving their freedom from the Welshies as they are the only ones able to make their way through it, much to the distress of the local mice.
Diddies and Daisy in the paddock
After studying the pole he decided that RD would have to climb the trees and trim them before he could put a wire from that to our said bungalow. Now there lay a problem, as I have mentioned in previous blogs we have none of our stuff from France, by that I mean no ladders, no saws, no tools, so cutting down branches from that height was going to prove a problem. At that point The Internet Man took pity, and promptly ordered us our very own pole, which is now safely planted in our garden, see my first picture.
So it’s been difficult. Although I tried to blog we are in a 4G black hole, and it proved impossible. I think it’s something to do with the beautiful hills and mountains in which we are settled!
The View From Our Front Garden
I have to say that they were amazingly quick and two weeks later normal service was resumed, pole and all! A big difference to France, where we had to wait seven weeks until they fixed our line when our internet was blown out in winter storms.
So I’m back now, and my urge to write is in fact overwhelming. I have missed it, but we have been busy, and I have lots to share.
In the meantime I think Wiglet is happy.
Wiglet, Also Known As The Princess And The Pea, As She Does Love To Lie On A Bed Of Pillows. Think It’s Safe To Say She Loves Our New Bed!
Moisy (also known as Rosie)
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It’s been a week since we started the move from our rental property to our new house, and what a week! Being the second time we have moved country we are used to the hard work and logistics that have to be put into place. The when you move country is you often have to move twice, once into a rental and then again into the home you buy.
RD and I were talking the other day about how we have basically been packing and unpacking in some form for seven months this time: Montaigu France – Gite in France- Rental Cottage in Ireland- New home.
But I’m not complaining because we have learned a lot from this part of the adventure, not least for me, because I have learned that whilst I think we need to do X life will show me we need to do Y, and this time I listen.
The start of decorating the bedroom
I was convinced we needed to decorate our bedroom before our bed came yesterday (that’s another story!) and bless RD he duly starting stripping the wall, but we had deliveries every day, on top of actually loading our van with stuff from the rental and driving it across the mountains to our new home, often through snowy wonderlands.
The oven in our new home looked as if it had something growing in it! Needless to say once the huge delivery of white goods arrived on Saturday that was a priority job for RD, along with fitting the washing machine and so much more: moving the fridge 4 times (women of the world will understand), putting the Hoover together, and the bed when it finally arrived, and the coffee table….
As well as decanting the boxes and boxes of stuff we have acquired and brought with us I have been busy ordering essentials, like crockery! Nearly all of our worldly goods are in France with no sign of when we can have them sent over, or collect them. But as most of them are going in the garage they’re not a priority for now, but it does mean we have to buy many essentials all over again.
I have also been busy arranging rubbish collection (not automatic in Ireland, it’s collected by private companies) and arranging internet, and deliveries. To say we’re tired is an understatement.
The front gates and gate into the paddock had to be covered in wire to stop the Welshies getting out, that was our first job, carried out by RD on the first day we started the move in the snow and sleet. When we finally spent our first night here on Saturday, sleeping in the floor, we had been driving a total of 15 hours in round trips back to the rental. Add the final trip on Sunday when we went back to pick up our final bits and clean the cottage RD had wracked up 18 hours of driving and we still had another full van to unload. Followed by another night of sleeping on the floor!
I have limited internet, it’s hit and miss with the 4G on my phone, so pictures will be few for now, but I will do my best to keep you all in the mix. RD and I really feel that this little house is home, I think we all feel that.
Moisy
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Picking up from my last post in this series it was January 2019, and we had lived in France nearly four years. That January was hard, RD had not been paid for a job he had done and we were down to our last bones, literally, on my birthday we had five euros to our name. But we had learned that what you need will come if you just believe and on that evening my tablet pinged informing me that I had made an Etsy sale of over one hundred euro, we were solvent again until our pensions went into our account. Our belief had not failed us, it was another of the lessons we had learned ‘what you need will come.’
The next morning as we sat drinking our tea I felt a surge of anger and drive and I looked at RD and said “Fuck it’ you aren’t working via someone else anymore you’re advertising and working for yourself. Add to that your not cutting corners when you are asked to save them money, if they don’t want a good job done they can get someone else to do it. We are not going to be like other people out here, we’re having an ethos and that ethos will be ‘if a jobs worth doing it’s worth doing well.’”
I had seen so many times how people would undercut others to get the work instead, but then do a very bad job. It would have been so easy to be like them but that was the crux, that was the test: no matter how hard don’t get sucked into the same mindset as the others, rise above it, have faith that keeping your integrity and principles will get you what you need. God did we learn that lesson well!
So that very day I redesigned our Facebook page, and I advertised RD as available for work on the local sites. Within an hour he had a job to start, with a person who came to be our friend. She had been let down and ripped off before by other people in the area, but once RD had spent three days with her the trust had been built and she gave him a fabulous review which I could then use to further promote our service. Life had spurred me on to do what I had the skill to do.
In the next two day I set up a website with our ethos ‘If A Jobs Worth Doing It’s Worth Doing Well’ and I advertised us on the local sites twice a week.
Now it was common for other English in the area to then comment negatively on other people’s posts, and believe me I had my fair share of that. But I was not prepared to be bullied by others, as I was back in ‘work mode’. If they were rude I would answer them brusquely and professionally, they could never respond because more often they were lying or just being negative. On one post a lady put that ‘it would be good if you answered your emails.’ Now I was in charge of all admin, and trust me when I say I am always on top of it. I went back through any contact confirming that no email had been received, so I told her so, in firm professional and businesslike way, also advising her that she was being rude in her tone. It was clear she was lying, but at that point other people took interest and answered her, appreciating the fact that I had put a stop to the nastiness. From there RD got a job with a lovely couple, who were respected in the area. We stood by our principles and they gave him another fabulous review, and work took off from there.
But France is tough, for every euro you earn you have to pay a minimum of 25% in social security, irrespective of any costs that are not taken into account, and before any tax is deducted. This meant that very often RD was working for less than a euro an hour. We survived that year, stuck to our principles and even refused work when people wanted us to cut corners. RD did some fabulous work and we built a client base and even had work in the winter (so hard in France).
But still it was difficult and still the discussion around whether to stay went on. One sunny day in March we walked down our road, looking out across the valleys and agreed that ‘Life would show us the way.’
It was in the Spring that year that I bought ‘The Book Of Awakening’ by Mark Nepo, and RD would read a passage most mornings as we drank our early morning tea. We found that each passage seemed to resonate with our thoughts at that time, and more and more we questioned what we were doing. But still we stayed.
As work came in we took it that the message from Life was to stay in France. But I think Life is more subtle than that at times, so over time we realised how we were still struggling, it wasn’t as hard, but it was still a struggle. We loved our French neighbours, and French friends, we loved our home and it’s location, and there were times we were confused as to the message life was sending. Now I know that Life was showing us, as it so often does, that even with fairly regular work in France it was still an existence. More than anything it was challenging us to still be honest with ourselves and ask ourselves did we want to ‘just exist?’
Over the course of the year we met people who would say how difficult it was to live in the old stone houses, and how they had sold up because of the problems. They look lovely but they are hard work. Then I cleaned a lady’s house who was returning to the UK, after living in France for ten years. When I asked her why she was leaving she explained that she felt life went in ten year cycles, and that we should always consider change as the cycle grows old. It resonated with me and I knew that Life meeting her was one of Life’s messages.
In the summer we read March the 7th passage from ‘The Book Of Awakening’ entitled ‘Let Go Of The Rice’. It is one of the things that changed the way I look at life, or should I say ‘us’. It said it all, how monkeys are caught in traps because they do not believe that what they need will come, because they live in fear, and consequently lose their lives when all they had to do was ‘let go of the rice.’ And that was it, we understood and we started to look at houses in Ireland.
In the August of that year I was ill, I have written how we had no health insurance and how it frightened me. It was life asking me to consider what we would do, whether France was really the right place for us. It’s bad enough being ill, add the complications of language and it is multiplied a thousand times. To reinforce its message Life sent us work with people whose husbands had suffered strokes, or sadly deteriorated from Dementia, and all of them were having horrendous problems in the French system. I found myself questioning how we would survive (there’s that word again!) as we got older. When chopping our own wood no-longer became an option, when RD could no-longer work. I couldn’t find work in France, no matter how I tried, not enough to support us. I questioned whether I wanted to grow old in France, and after I was ill in the August those doubts began to build, but still we persevered, until in the end, as she so often does Life started to hit us round the head to make us listen……
More to come…
Rosie
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As I started to write this post the realisation came to me that I will actually see all the seasons in Ireland for the first time this year. It just seemed like a revelation, because we only visited in the summer when I was a child, therefore I never saw Ireland in any other guise.
I learned to really respect the seasons during my time in France. I wrote often of them, especially Spring and Autumn, with both seasons representing change: one welcomes life, one tries to teach us to understand death, and letting go. Life’s ever evolving pattern.
I am looking forward to what the seasons in Ireland will bring, having already experienced the Winter with it’s hooleys and snowy mountains! So many Irish people said how we needed to wrap up warm because of the cold winds, but we were used to them from living on our little house on the hill in Northern France for six years, the winter did not phase us, but the scenery blew us away…
Earrach …It is the first day of Spring today
Earrach means Spring in Gaelic, and there are three days considered to be the first day of Spring in Ireland, but in Ireland the one most consider the first day of Spring is the 1st of February. It’s known as Imbolc ( which means ‘in the belly’ referring to the pregnant ewes) in line with Gaelic tradition, and was a day to celebrate the end of a harsh winter and the coming of warmer weather, being the midway point between the Winter and Spring equinox, it was also the opportunity to rebuild stocks, and for milk to be available. It’s also known as St Brigid’s Day.
A Picture Depicting Brigid The Pagan Goddess
Now there are two schools of thought on this: Brigid was a pagan goddess whose pagan ceremony was held on the 1st of February, as she was also considered the patroness of early Spring. Then suddenly in medieval times, and quite fortuitously, a nun by the same name came along with all the same attributes of the goddess Brigid, how weird! And guess what? She was made a Saint, whose celebratory day was also the 1st of February. I don’t know, it seems to happen so often, how these Christian holidays and Saints day tie in with pagan ones. Must just be coincidence! Poor old pagan Goddess Brigid was elbowed out of the way and her day was given to a prioress who supposedly helped the poor. That’s not to diss St Brigid, she is now considered a patron saint of Ireland, and probably liked to have a good old knees up and a drink with St Patrick!
But that’s not the end of it, all is not lost the Irish still have a soft spot for Brigid the pagan goddess, and still make the pagan crosses to hang on their doors to welcome The goddess who would visit them on the first day of Spring.
The Pagan Cross of Brigid
Now, believing what you will, Spring in Ireland traditionally starts on the 1st of February for logical reasons: the days get longer, the weather starts to warm up (although when hail was sheeting down on us last week you wouldn’t have thought so!) and the flowers start to break through. In fact last week we watched in wonder, with tears in our eyes from laughter as the crofter tried to put two lambs in the field behind his house, he picked one up and carried it to the field, then he went back for the second as the first followed him back bleating it’s head off, bless him he must have done it at least five times until he got someone else to help him. If I can I am going to ask if I can see them, taking the chance that I may never eat lamb again if I do.
Over the last two weeks we have had hail, snow, rain (of course it’s Ireland!) and beautiful warm sunshine. They do say that March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb! With all this weather we have had some fabulous cloud phenomena over the mountains, it’s like seeing an ever changing painting, and we are loving it.
Mount Errigal with Levanter clouds around the bottom
There is nothing like warm Spring sunshine to give you hope, and despite all the madness in the world today nature goes on her way, doing what she needs to do, no lockdowns for her!
In Donegal where we are putting down roots the Gaelic language is still the main language, although all those we have met have kindly spoken English to us. Most signs in our area are in Gaelic, and I plan to learn some as the years go on.
I believe it’s important to embrace the culture of where you live, even more so when it’s your heritage. It should help that I learned quite a bit of French because I notice how a lot of Gaelic words are very close to some French words. Although the French are mainly considered Gauls, many people in Brittany consider themselves Celts, and so the link continues.
I am lost on the pronunciation however, although I am getting my head around some of it involving dropping the syllables, for example Donegal … Dún na nGall, when you say it quickly it sounds the same but has a gutteral intonation.
My actual name is Moira, I use Rosie as a pseudonym because of my book, but at times it pisses me off that I lose my own identity due to that. Given that Moira is an Irish Gaelic name, derived from Celtic, I think it’s important now I live in Ireland to own it and embrace the Gaelic language.
Moira comes from the name Máire which means bitter, beloved, drop of the sea. How apt then that I have chosen to live in a place surrounded by the sea. It’s good to see that my name is right up there with Boudicca, it explains my strength, being able to fight my own corner and my hate of injustice since as long as I can remember.
I have always felt closer to my Irish roots than my English. I am proud of England for many things, mainly their stoic approach to the second world war; for whilst I am not someone who condones war I understand that from all wars that war was probably the one most necessary. Britain was up against it where that war was concerned, and they stood their ground, eventually convincing others of its need; but I think it’s important to also remember that WWI was a pre-cursor to it’s cause.
I don’t buy into the crap of ‘let’s make Britain great again’, or watching the 1966 World Cup Final over and over again. It was 55 years ago, lets move on FFS!
I have never felt a sense of English pride, not when I look back through our history and listened to my dad’s experience where Ireland was concerned. Sadly, including my time in France, there have been many times when I have been ashamed of my English heritage, including that sense of entitlement and grabbiness that I have found on my travels, perhaps that comes from all those times in our history that we have just ‘taken’ other’s countries! Then there is football hooliganism: Jack Charlton was so ashamed he gave up the Irish Football Managers job because of it. Or when I holidayed in Turkey and the other English guests ran down to put their Union Jack towels on their sun-beds, there was no other person from any other country (mostly from Germany) who did. Where did that myth about the germans putting their towels on the sunbeds come from? I know some people will read this and say ‘well other nations do that too!’ But I am half English, I’m not speaking for ‘other nations’.
Let us not forget all the times my relatives would call my dad the ‘thick Paddy’, when he was the cleverest of them all. So clever he never felt the need to put them straight, he knew he had the last laugh when he left them to drown in their own ignorance and ego.
Perhaps my Irish ancestry is coming through. I know that’s why I have been thinking about my dad more than ever and finally understanding him, more than ever. We learn and evolve, if we want to.
Where Gaelic is concerned some of the words are familiar to me and I understand them, it may be that my Irish DNA is coming through and my ancestors memories are finally starting to show themselves.
I do feel as if I am finally home.
Deireadh seachtaine maith a bheith agat
Moira
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There are so many things for us to sort out: bank accounts, house buying, paying French bills, social security numbers (you can’t do anything in Ireland without a social security number) but also, just to add to it, we need Irish driving licences because Ireland will no longer accept a UK driving licence because of Brexit! Add the pandemic into the mix, with half of the institutions you have to go to shut and it’s a joy. But, as someone said to us ‘you do like a big move don’t you?
And why not! Keeps us entertained 😂
Now since living in France, despite trying to get a social security number for five years I was never successful. We’re not the kind of folks who go to the doctor at the drop of a hat so no worries there, but due to the bureaucracy and lack of resources I was not able to get a referral to an eye consultant for the Glaucoma that I had developed at thirty-eight. Neither did I go to the opticians, because you can’t just go to the opticians in France you need a referral and two other hoops to jump through, so I gave up! I would also add to that how I kidded myself that because I was no longer staring at a computer twelve hours a day the Glaucoma had miraculously disappeared. The stories we tell ourselves sometimes!
So on arrival in Ireland the first thing I did was book an opticians appointment for us both. I had promised a lovely client of mine that I would, and she was very dear to me so I needed to keep my word. Also because we needed a report to enable us to get our licences, and the fact that my glasses were now nearly six years old, and I am officially myopic, the opticians appointments were my priority.
On arrival I was seen first. I knew I was in trouble when I could hardly see any of the field of vision test in my left eye. I had the photos of the back of my eye taken as well and halfway through my test the lovely optician informed my pressures were so high she was worried I was going to have ‘a bleed’ and that she was sending me as an emergency referral to the eye clinic there and then. Thank God they speak English, thank God we moved here when we did! She also explained that she believed I had already had a small bleed, that would not have necessarily affected my vision, but given that my pressures were dangerously high I need to go, and I need to go now. In addition she couldn’t sign off my form for my driving licence, something I had always feared since my initial diagnosis, that would no longer have the freedom that driving gave me.
Poor RD his appointment was cancelled and he had to drive like the wind to the hospital in the next county Sligo. On the way he was very quiet and confessed that he was really worried about me. I however was very calm, and explained to him that we could look at the drama, and the negative possibilities, and thereby build it up into a crises or, as I was seeing it, we could see our good fortune: that out of all of the things I had to organise ‘life’ had told me to book the opticians appointment first. That we had now moved to Ireland just in time, as it appeared, to save my eyesight; and that I was now in a country where I could speak the language (never under-estimate that). I actually saw myself as blessed.
When I explained it to him, RD commented that he hadn’t thought of it that way, and now looking at it that way his stresses were less.
On arrival at the hospital, after going through two road checks to ensure our journey was essential, off I went into the hospital. They were absolutely brilliant, no questions as to why I had let my glaucoma get out of hand, no judgement, in fact a lot of understanding. We were where we were, judgement was not going to help.
I was dispatched three and a half hours later with eye drops that make your eyelashes grow (always a half full girl) and we set off in the dark January night for our three hour journey home through the mountains. At this point I will introduce my other blessing that day: RD. He waited in the cold for three hours, walking the puppies who we had thought we could take for a walk around Donegal town, and had brought with us. There were no facilities in this pandemic time for him to even buy a coffee, luckily I brought him one out from the little coffee shop in the hospital, that I passed on my way out. He then drove home in the pitch black, a total of six hours driving that day, with never a word of complaint.
The following week we went back to complete our eye tests. I had religiously applied my drops every day, and I had never allowed my brain to wonder ‘what if?’ I know that what will be, will be, and negative thoughts can bring negative things your way, so I have strong enough processes now to stop my brain going down that road. By the end of the test my eyes had improved sufficiently for my form to get my licence to be signed off. When I asked the young optician (everyone’s young to me now!) if my pressures and eyesight had improved, or was that wishful thinking, he said he thought it was wishful thinking but would check anyway. In fact my field of vision had improved dramatically, my prescription has also reduced and my pressures had gone from dangerously high to within normal parameters, in a week! Even he was shocked. I wasn’t, I was just grateful.
Rosie
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Ever since starting this blog nearly six years ago it has always been my aim to encourage people to just consider something different, to think, to not be afraid.
I have been inspired by many books and philosophies over the years, and although now someone who tries to remind myself of the teaching of the Tao, and follow it where I can, if you asked me what book, to date, has inspired me the most then it would always be ‘The Road Less Travelled’ by M. Scott Peck. It was the book that set me on the path to read the other books, and I would not be the person that I am today if I had not picked that book up at one of the darkest times of my life, a time when I HAD to find myself all over again. (You would need to read my other blog at https://makingthisbetter.com to understand where I was, and why RD is now called RD)
I learned that I could not ‘go back’ and find myself, you can never go back, you can only go forward; and even now when I hear people say ‘let’s get back to normal.’ I hear myself say ‘you can’t go back, you can only go forward, and the ‘normal’ that you knew has gone.’
When I read this book I took on board so many of what the author had to say: how our life is mapped out for us by what we are taught in the early stages of our lives, but that as we grow older and life teaches us, or shows us happiness and sorrow, to truly live our life we need to have the courage to step off the road that was mapped out, and to face uncertainties and our fears, to truly live.
Ever the empath I learned how people project their problems onto you, the proverbial ‘monkey on your back’, or transference as it is known. Once I read that I could see so clearly when people were doing it, but, ever the empath, it was a big learning for me to stop when necessary.
It was because of that book that I was encouraged to look into philosophy, and try to ascertain a deeper understanding of life. I suppose that it taught me to face my fears, and not be afraid, thereby leading me to these adventures, and to quote M .Scott Peck, to understand that ‘someone else was doing the driving.’ I understood that no matter how much we think we are in control of our lives we are not, fate, or ‘life’ as RD and I call it, is.
I understand now that everything has to be a balance: bad things have to happen to enable us to understand the good things when they happen, and to not be afraid of this, or dwell on it, To just take the rough with the smooth. So many people focus on the negative things that happen to them, ask ‘why me?’ ‘Why us?’ and then they don’t see the really small good things that happen and so the negative things just keep happening because they have lost their ‘balance.’
So where is this leading? Well it was all of this that gave me the courage to go on these adventures, to know that everything changes, and to go with that change, to ‘let go of the rice’ (The Book of Awakenings. Mark Nepo).
Some of our garden in France
When we went to France we thought that ‘was it’. We thought that was where we were going to live forever, we felt we had to believe that, because we had sold up all our worldly goods and taken that chance on France, so therefore it HAD to work. Didn’t it? Of course it didn’t! I learned that ‘life’ is about learning and then moving on with the knowledge you have learned.
So we took our learnings from that adventure and we used them to go on to a new adventure. Lots of things were sent our way to help us make that decision, good and bad things, but one that sticks with me was when in 2019, someone who was moving back to the UK after living in France for ten years said that she thought that life went in ten year cycles and that then it was time to move on to pastures new. This was a time when both RD and I were considering whether staying in France was right for us, and her words resonated with me.
Since moving to Ireland I have joined some Facebook groups for the area, and about Ireland. One of them is actually called ‘I’d rather be in Ireland’.
The Beach at Dunmore Donegal Ireland
I have shared some of our photos and how we have now chosen where to settle in Ireland and so many people from all over the world have commented on how ‘lucky’ we are. Of how envious they are.
Snow Topped Errigal Mountain Donegal January 2021
It really got me thinking. Are we lucky? Or have we faced our fears?
Or are we perhaps lucky that we are able to face our fears, or open our minds?
January Sunset, Donegal Ireland
Remember it as one of the most painful things of my life that brought me to this stage, and I can confidently say that the same can be said for RD. some people would look at what happened to us then and pity us. But look at where it got us: to a place where we know that in life there is nothing to fear, only fear itself. Enabling us to take these chances.
RD had never ever been to Ireland, but he had faith in me, enough to trust me, who would have thought that, given that years ago he thought I was waiting to take my revenge!
I suppose what I am trying to say is if you look at someone and think ‘I wish I could do that’, then your brain starts to put all different obstacles in the way, I am saying understand they are obstacles but you can do it.
January in stunning Donegal
It won’t be easy. Look at our recent experiences: Christmas was cancelled, sad to leave our home and our wonderful French friends, difficult journeys, saying goodbye to our beloved pets we had to leave behind because they had departed, working so hard we felt like we would drop, and still so much more to do…. but it can be done.
Lots to tell you, more to come
Rosie
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Since living here I have realised how little we actually walked when living in France. Having just under an acre of land the dogs had enough space to roam, our road was over 2km long, and after you’d done that walk often it became a bit boring. So we became a lazy, just sitting under the trees in our then garden, and looking out over the beautiful view.
The View From Our Garden In France
It’s been cold here since our arrival in Donegal in Ireland, so at times our walks have incorporated wild wild winds, or mizzle (a mixture of mist and drizzle, the name coming from Cornwall) or just bracing cold in bright sunshine, and sometimes in the setting sun.
A Wall of Wave on The Wild Atlantic Way Donegal Ireland January Sunset On The Wild Atlantic Way Donegal Ireland Welsh Terriers OnThe Beach In Donegal Ireland January Sunset On Carrickfin Beach The Wild Atlantic Way Donegal Ireland
Now we are renting a house where the grounds are not secure, so we have to take the Welsh Terriers for a long walk every day. But there is no ‘have to’ to be fair, because when the colours in your surroundings seem to change every few minutes, and your scenery is mountains and beaches, and the ‘Wild Atlantic Way’ we don’t need any encouragement.
Snow Capped Mountains in January in Donegal Ireland
After every walk we come home with our faces stinging and pink from the cold; and despite often being sopping wet (this is Ireland after all) we feel invigorated. We have even downloaded walking apps onto our phone, and in the last week I have achieved over twenty five thousand steps and burned off over two thousand calories. It is good for me because I have an injury to a very small muscle in my arse, it’s chronic and I’ve had it a number of years, but the walking is strengthening my other muscles, although we have decided that I need a walking stick to help me get up the banks on the beaches, and to climb some of the dunes. Who would have thought such a small muscle could incapacitate you to such a degree! But I am undeterred, you have to keep going.
Eregal Mountain January In Donegal
Today the mountain range was covered in snow, which blew in last night. There we were on the beach looking at the snow covered mountains.
The dogs absolutely love their beach walks, and Wiglet who used to be terrified of our swimming pool in France, is in awe of the sea. She stands, like King Canute, barking at the waves, commanding them to go back. Then hilariously keeps jumping and looking back as the creep up behind her, as if to say ‘They’re following me!’
Wiglet Commanding The Waves
No matter how cold, both of them run in and out of the surf, and stand facing the wind, ears on alert. It really is a simple thing that we love in these difficult times.
We love living here.
Rosie
Winter Sunset Carrickfin Donegal Ireland
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From the moment we arrived in Ireland and we went into Aldi for essentials (we know how to live), like milk and bread, because of the bank holiday the next day, we have been like kids in a sweetshop that has long been closed to us. Since then we have been enthralled by what is available and at the price of things. I can honestly say, as someone who has lived in both countries; Ireland is cheaper than France!
So on that short trip into Aldi (remember cats and dogs in the car) we found ourselves running round going ‘Bloody hell! Look at the price of that’, or ‘Really? Is that all it is? Or ‘Oh my God mince pies! We came out with milk, bread, biscuits, jammy cream biscuits, mince pies, Quality Street, tomato soup, oxtail soups (I cannot tell you how much I detested French soup, and was craving cream of tomato and oxtail soups) toilet rolls and strawberry cider (I know but essential for RD after the journey from hell!)
Since then the love affair with produce has continued: crumpets, baked beans, steak (so cheap), rashers of bacon, not round slices, sausages, cakes, black and white pudding, meat pies, fresh vegetables, so expensive in France, especially scallions, and celery that we love. I have actually got RD to eat fresh veg every day! We could not have afforded those items in France. Soda bread, mango chutney, lamb shanks, lamb chops, suet for dumplings…..
Irish Soda Bread
When you move country you have to basically rebuild your basics again: flour, salt, cornflour, ketchup, Nacho chips, sugar….it gives you a heart attack when you pay the bill! But …it’s all part of the adventure. Who ever knew that food shopping could be such fun?
We’ve calmed down now, thank God! And thank God we take the puppies for a walk every day or we wouldn’t be able to get out of the house!
Walking the beach, in the mizzle
When we lived in France we loved Brie, Olives, garlic, I will always love garlic and probably blow the Irish’s heads off with it! But make no bones, you always miss food from ‘home’, and trust me, you always will.
Good job we’re ‘home’ then! Lots more to come folks. You want to hear what we’ve bought next!
Rosie
Wiglet on The Beach as the Sun Sets
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The last time I came to Ireland I was twenty-two years old. I came with my family. I remember the craic, I remember the scenery, I remember how welcoming Irish people are, I remember walking up the Knockmealdown Mountains and looking out at more than forty shades of green, but I realise now I was too young to really appreciate the atmospheric scenery, and just how magical this place is. It really is a magical land.
We are finding our feet, as is always necessary when moving, let alone changing countries. Add the dreaded C-19 into the mix and it is difficult, but we can still get some shopping, and on Friday we went to the local larger town near us, Dungloe, to stock up. Of course we took the Welshies with us, they are still too insecure to leave them, I mean the cat’s haven’t even come out of the bedroom yet, other than to eat and hide in cupboards!
So off we set on yet another charabang outing which also involved taking the Welshies for a walk.
One of my all time memories of Ireland are the freshwater glens that run down from the mountain. I promise I will write of them often, not least because I have promised my Welshie furry son that I will show him the sunlight sparkling on them. Since he was ill late last year it has been my motivation through all this change to take Harley on the Irish beaches, and to the glens up the mountain. But on Friday we found a pretty little part of the town where a glen ran gurgling and bubbling into the open arms of a small bay.
I was so excited to find it, and it was absolutely stunning to watch as it ran into the sea, so beautifully lit up by the late evening winter sun. And just to make things really perfect we had a lovely chat with Finnola, who was so excited to tell us it was her birthday tomorrow.
The Glen Running Into the Arms of the Sea
We just stood at this bay, watching the light change, and as it did so everything else changed, as if a faerie was painting the land and sky in front of us.
Sunset in Donegal Ireland
On the way home I asked RD, who trusted me and came here having never been here before, what he loved. He said the scenery, the atmosphere, the friendliness of the people, being able to just chat to people and on and on. Eventually I stopped him and asked what didn’t he like, he immediately responded and said ‘nothing.’
Rosie
Sunset in Dungloe Donegal Ireland
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