General Chat

OOOOPPPPS missed a morning to Dermot :-) :-)

Morning Dermot & Ann......... :-D :-D

Morning Ann, cooler but a lovely morning here :-D

Hi AnnC :-D <3

What you upto Barb :-D

nothing much today. We had rain in the night so too wet to get out on the garden. Anyway me green bin is full up !!

just gonna potter in doors I think. What about you ??

Right..........catch you all later....... :-D :-D :-D :-D

Wet here too :-0 not doing much need to go get some dog food :-0 then i might sew me Dragon up :-D

See you MR M :-D

I am gonna find something to do too so see you later <3 <3

Bye Barb <3

See you all later :-D

The Fairy Child.

‘Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought‘. (Percy Bysshe Shelley).

As a result of recent requests from my fans - both of them - I’d like to relay a little tale as I remember it being told in our old house by my dad in front of an open peat-turf fire on cold winter evenings, in the dark moonless countryside near Aghamore, Co Mayo. That was long before a television set entered our home or any other house in the area, for that matter. Come to think of it, electricity was relatively ‘new’ at the time - so now you know where I’m coming from!

I have recently seen alternative versions of this tale on the Net but I’ll restrict my narrative of the sad & strange story to my limited memories of my dad’s rendition in the early 1950s. The story itself is fairly short - so, don’t blink or you’ll miss it.

If you are not completely satisfied, your money will not be refunded - you shouldn't have paid for it in the first place!. This does not affect your legal rights. The ‘best before date’ is not relevant. There was a shop near us in Aghamore with a sign that said: “If we please you, tell others. If not, please tell us”. I’d like to use that sales pitch towards this tall tale I’m about to relate. So, here goes.

Oh, by the way, I haven’t bothered to seek a super-injunction to prevent its reproduction on Twitter or elsewhere. So there!

In Irish folklore, there was the belief in fairies & fairy children. This relates to where a baby was born perfectly normal as far as the parents were concerned. Everyone was very happy with the new arrival & the mother continued to do her daily household duties, keeping an occasional eye on the child‘s cradle & the occupant therein. No Nannies in those days - well not around our ways!

Suddenly one day, when she looked into the cradle, the mother was astonished that the child had changed. If a mother doesn’t recognise her own offspring, then the world will be in its last spin. Even the cow in the field recognises its own calf amongst a dozen similar calves.

The mother knew immediately that the strange child now in the cradle was not hers. The belief was that such a child was a fairy child & the original child was whipped away unnoticed by the fairies. Some say that you can easily recognise a fairy child because they show early signs of a beard growing. The same applied to baby boys too.

On the side of Croagh Patrick in Co Mayo, not too far from its peak, there was such a fairy child. Close by, there was a famous landmark surrounded by trees & was considered by the locals to be a fairy palace or fairy fort. It would be a brave or foolhardy person who fell asleep within its confines.

Anyway, this child was born near Croagh Patrick & my dad’s aunt told him the story. So, it must be true! The child never grew up nor learned to walk or talk & it was left in the cradle for many years. The Sunday tabloid reporters of the day obviously never troubled themselves to visit this remote region.

Anyway, one day, the Postman called at the house & said: “The fairy fort is on fire!” With that, the child in the cradle jumped up & flew out through the open door, heading in the direction of the fort where the fire was taking place & was never seen again.

There was also a tradition that anyone milking cows by hand in the vicinity of a fairy fort would, on finishing the task, dip their thumb in the bucket of warm milk & the trace the sign of the cross on the cow’s udder. Everyone practiced the custom - I did it myself. It claimed to protect the cow from the fairies & other misfortunes.

As young children, we were sometimes warned by our parents to be good otherwise the fairies would come during the night & take us away. I suspect awful things like this being said to us as vulnerable youngsters made me what I am today - old, bald, overweight, forgetful, a Homer Simpson look-a-like, continually pestering the local bus company with free travel passes & keeping an eye on the beautiful ladies who pass by wearing miniskirts or even less.

But then, so does my immediate neighbour here in Devon who was raised in totally different circumstances. All he had to worry about as a child in London was Hitler’s doodle-bugs.

Anyway, there you have it. Wasn’t much of a tale now, was it? A little better than the baby swapping outrage in Eastenders a few years ago, don’t you think? I tried my best.

PS: I'm happy to confirm that no animal was harmed or mistreated in the creation of this tardy composition.

The end. I'm sure you are relieved. Yippee!

What are you on, Dermie :-0

Whatever it is can I have some cos I've just sat and read that ;-) :-D :-D

Afternoon all :-D <3

Cloudy here but sun trying to show face :-D

Dermot that reminds me of your writings which as
you know I enjoyed reading :-)

You can hear a pin drop here :-D :-D :-D

Afternoon everyone :-D :-D <3 <3

It's been scorching here but clouded over now, off up for the papers then put me feet up :-D :-D

Catch you later <3

hiyahhhhh <3

I have been a right lazy moo today yehhhhh ;-) but I have learnt a little about this thingy and Windows 10 :-D :-D

Coooooooeeeeeeeeeee :-D :-D :-D :-D

Hi-de-Hi~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <3 <3

Is anyone home :-S

Hiya Belle :-D <3

On phone :-0 will try and multitask ;-)