I treated myself to a large Graham Knuttel jug at Blarney Woollen Mills. A counsellor once said that whenever I felt down in the dumps or revisited emotional trauma – that survivors very often are prone to experiencing – that I should treat myself to something nice. I very rarely get presents, gifts or cards from people, so… sometimes take that old advise on board. The idea behind it was that one had to be kind to oneself, as opposed to waiting for the world to be kind. Kindness was not shown to us as children in our respective institutions. And now as adults we have to continually self-nurture, as the world is not going to fulfill our expectations in kindness and need. There is no way one should mope around waiting for it to automatically happen. No. Nay. Never. It never happened in our institutions, and it’s not going to happen now in the wider world. Well, not too often, anyway. We must develop ways of coping with let-downs, disappointments and understand that our concept of thinking is not akin to those of ordinary folk who grew up in normal environments, and that the wider world out there cannot be expected to take our needs on board. We must read the cues that are staring us in the face and not airbrush them out of our inadequate emotional minds.
I saw a matching plate, which will be next item of purchase.
I thought this piece was very interesting, whatever about the fag in the mouth (which was a popular feature in films of half a century ago or less) and the padre in the background. I don’t know the history of the painting, so must make google enquiries. It looks Spanish / Latino? I placed the plate on the slated floor so as to get a good picture, however the light shone on a part of it. This plate sells for the princely sum of E125.00, and would be a collectors item.
Blarney is very rural considering it’s within a 6 mile radius only of Cork city. It has a very village atmosphere about it. It quite reminded me of Ballyjamesduff, Co Cavan because of the wideness of the town area – which the former is dominated by a circular beautiful park with delightful trees. There were crows everywhere to be seen in Blarney. See overhead.
I couldn’t pass by without taking this snap of the local garda barracks. I discovered upon walking a bit further to the right that It took complete centre-stage, as it literally overlooked the whole park with its prefabricated privileged head of the table vantage point. It struck me that the park and surrounding encircled houses must be very safe with the ever watchful eye of the gardai. I’d reckon that nothing goes amiss. I could even see a young garda at the main door watching me as I was talking taking a video shot in the park and following the circle with the camera, and ducking behind the man he was talking to – well, he’s entitled to his privacy. They’re also trained to watch everything around them, which makes them appear nosey. I’m noted for watching the body language of people. It speaks volumes.
Just as An Garda Siochana sits at the head of the table, the Protestant church sits at the foot of the park – of which the latter could total an acre and a half of ground. I’d expected it to be a Roman Catholic church, so was rather surprised that a Protestant church had such a prominent place in the small town. I bought a beautiful pottery mug with a stick-out half handle for E2 in St. Vincent de Paul charity shop. Click on snap to see red painted front shop.
Some looked so Irish in appearance, but their accents immediately gave them away. Tourist buses filled the car-park, and intermittently new buses arrived with more visitors, as others departed the woollen mills. There was a lot of spending going on, as they relaxed outside Christy’s hotel in the aftermath.
For example, one thought the WM building was utterly appropriate for the stock they were selling. There were also innumerable buses at the car-park adjoining the Woollen Mills with tourists from the continent, as I could decipher the French and German accents.
Or visit the Woollen Mills.
Christy’s Hotel adjoining the mills was chock o’ block with tourists despite tail-end of tourist season.
There was a river nearby. It was very similar to the Dodder, I felt so at home there. I saw some ducks and was pleased to get a nice photo of a Cork duck with the banana beak.
Yeah, there were some lovely yellow roses to boot. I just couldn’t ignore them, that’s for sure. They were growing in the garden where the outdoor seating was situated.
I’d recommend people to go to visit Blarney. It’s a very quaint, relaxing and friendly place. Don’t get insulted tho’, if you’re an older woman like me, and they happen to call you girl. It’s just a colloquialism used by Corkonians. No offence is intended in the whole widely world.
Do watch out for Graham Knuttel’s delph collection, if you are a fan of abstract artists. His work rather reminds me of Ludmilla Korol’s. She must have been influenced by him. I must ask her sometime if that is the case. I think I remember asking her agent, Maurice about this fact.
Now, I must sit down and enjoy a mug of cha, after all that gallivanting in mind, body & soul in Blarney. I’ve got the gift of the gab now!