Middlefocus

A long stroll along an almost deserted beach at the National Trust's Murlough Reserve near Dundrum, County Down. With just a handful of cars in the parking area and passing only a few people on the 600m boardwalk down to the shore, we guessed correctly that the beach would be fairly empty. This really was social distancing. Buttoned up against the chill and facing the breeze from the sea it wasn't long before blood came rushing to warm the cheeks. No need for an anti-virus mask here. We took deep lungfuls of the fresh salt air and immediately felt the benefit. The sand was washed smooth with no previous steps before us and the sea seemed to have deposited various qualities of shingle and stone in lovely gradations. A perfect case study for a school geography trip and a salutary lesson in the organising power of nature. Here and there shells dotted the sand, washed ashore or perhaps dropped by feeding gulls. They lay with their scalloped grooves and ridges upward, the anticipate...

The driveway is full of them.  Leaves. They gather against the walls that frame the length of the driveway and road outside the house. Each car that passes flurries them up to find a new resting place or flattens them into the tarmac where they stick unbudging, resistant to all but the heaviest-duty bristle brush. The leaves that have made our property their home don't come from our trees which are mainly evergreen. They hail from a deciduous domain, from elsewhere but seasons and wind have no knowledge of borders and so there is the annual autumnal task of collection and disposal. If the leaves were from a book it would be a multi-parter as the task of collection is repeated often until the last leaves leave their branches. A leaf-blower to get my own back was a useful purchase. It enables me to blow them quickly into heaped mounds for later lifting. An old neighbour with country ways once advised me not to waste my time trying to brush them into such piles. Leave it to the wind, ...

How many times over the years have we flicked through this old family heirloom roadbook? The AA Illustrated Road Book of Ireland. This edition was published in 1970 and was often consulted on trips round the country. We loved its line drawings, its Irish place names and short but nonetheless helpful references. Later versions have better maps and descriptions but this one is the one with character and cachet. Cachet? A word that denotes quality and distinction. Yes the book meets those criteria but drop the -t and there is also cache, a word that refers to something hidden or concealed and the book has something to reveal there too. Extraordinary Recently as part of a national heritage festival we had been discussing Holy Wells in Ireland. One that was mentioned was the Rock of Doon. Not having been there the conversation turned to - Well where exactly is it? It's north of Letterkenny, a few miles from Kilmacrenan in County Donegal.  Well, we've been there quite a few times but...

 Where does this take you? What does it take from you? What's left?

This book was on the English Literature course when I studied it way back in the 1960s. I suppose its adventure theme, with deadly battles and buried treasure, was judged suitable to capture the interest of  16-year-old  boys. Boys and their reading - still a matter of recurring educational concern.   I came back to the book after having watched a TV programme in which it was referenced. The programme charted the course of the English novel and, as one of its themes, explored literature associated with Empire and colonisation. Hooked, I decided that it might be interesting to reread KSM after more than 50 years. An early front runner of this type of story there are many books of this genre today and this one is still easily available.   Stuck in my memory Some of the characters and situations had certainly stuck in my memory and as I met up with them  again,  I wondered why that was. Since they stuck, there must have been something that...

An indoor queue this time. The simple strips adhered profusely over the mall floor kept everyone well apart. No jostling, no creeping forward. The shoppers waited patiently for each to be called forward in turn. Respectful distancing. Seems like we've all got the message. Complying. Toeing the line.

Palm leaf crosses presented to churchgoers on Palm Sunday  Today is Palm Sunday. 5 April 2020. The occasion recalls the Entry into Jerusalem at the beginning of the first Holy Week in the Christian tradition. This year services commemorating the Entry have been curtailed as a result of the Covid-19 Coronavirus. The virus has taken its toll with many succumbing to its deadly onslaught. Their personal Passion... My dad was born on a Palm Sunday. It was 5 April 1925. As first born in his family it was no doubt a celebration.  A Hallelujah! It always amused him that his own father would on the occasion of Palm Sunday each year wish him a Happy Birthday. My grandad, we called him Granda Christy, never seemed to realise that Palm Sunday just like Easter is an ecclesiastical and therefore a variable date.  Some still don't get this as calls continue to be made for Easter to have a fixed calendar date.  Commercially driven no doubt. But maybe in that bygo...

Books are like old friends. That's certainly the case with this one that an old (and still) friend presented to me as a gift 60 or so years ago. It says something about the nature of gifts back in those days - the pleasure of the printed word. It's on my reread list and I'm wondering whether it will feel dated by today's standards. That's because I reread King Solomon's Mines a while ago and felt that some of its themes and attitudes were of their time and could be considered inappropriate by today's standards. So in preparation for my reread I did some background research into the Coral Island. That's a story in itself. I'm still going ahead with the book and will try to recover the experience of that first read. Six decades ago. I love the gift of the printed word.  A gift that keeps on giving. Yes, books are like old friends...the older the nicer. More: Interested in the book, its author and creation? Check out the  Wikipedia a...

For a place such a short flight time from home and only one hour's time difference, Marrakech is a world apart. We were staying in a riad in the Medina and had not the receptionist arranged to come and meet us somewhere central we would never have found our way through the warren of narrow, packed streets. Saying that, at the end of our stay we could easily find our residence and return to places in the Medina we had marked for a return visit. The first task after some rest was to get oriented and what better to do that than getting lost? Really? Friendly passers-by shouted out directions, even urging us to follow them and suggesting visits. The pungent odour of where we had been directed to was not what we had been expecting. It was an open air camel tannery with stone troughs where the hides were pummelled and stretched. We were offered a large sprig of mint to sniff away the smell but politely declined and made off. But to where? The friendly passers-by were nowhere to be seen. ...