ipernity is still not working properly for me and I haven't tried making Firefox my browser 'cos I need my wits about me to do anything like that and I'm not sure where I last saw them...
The bathroom is empty...it sounds hollow and peculiar in there now...funny how much bits and pieces absorb the sound...take them away or out and the space echoes. Kevin said he was hoping to be here on Friday...there's no drastic rush though.
The men came back this morning to put the stays in place for the new lecky pole...didn't take them long and now we just have to wait for another set of workmen to bring the new wires...
Himself was talking to Paddy and he came in and announced work has started on the bridge...when I pushed for more information it transpires that there are some men testing the soil under the riverbed...not quite the same as re-building the bridge actually...he will latch onto something and make it sound a hundred times worse...mind you, Paddy is just as bad.
We're debating whether or not to get a bag of hayseed to sow on the mud in the field...when that was done years ago the seed was scattered by hand, then a tree bough weighted down with rocks was pulled backwards and forwards over the seed to embed it into the earth...walking over our patches will probably have the same effect.
Can't remember the correct name for it but we have an old gadget which you slung over your shoulder...then when the cloth bag was full of seed you worked a wooden dowel back and forth and the seed fell out neatly...it was called a Fiddle...remembered while I was writing it. The cloth bag on ours is full of holes from where mouses have eaten it.
One of the cottages I saw while over here looking for one to buy, had a series of neatly kept stone sheds with the most desirable odds and ends from the days when it was a small farm...beautiful woven baskets made from reeds which were used to bring home the tatties...panniers for the donkeys to wear across their backs for the turf...those special wheel barrows used on the bogs with a wooden wheel at the front...total pigs to push...and rare now since the advent of tractors and trailers. There were skillets and black kettles and balls of string and thick twine...a big iron pot for boiling up the pigs food...and a mangle to wring out the wet washing.
I'd have bought that little cottage just for the sake of the contents of those sheds because a larger shed had two donkey carts and full harnesses hanging up on nails in the walls...but there was no road to it at all...you literally had to walk across three fields to reach it...and there was no electricity nor nearby poles and water came from a spring in the first field...
Padraig...he had been enlisted to drive me all over the countryside looking at cottages...did a few sums in his head about the cost of roadways and piped water and the lecky...and decided it simply wasn't feasible and I had to agree with him. He did stuff the boot of the car with odds and ends he'd had his eye on though... probably ended up in an antique shop in Dublin.
In case you might be wondering how to pronounce Padraig...it's Por-rig...the Irish for Patrick.