Despite my best efforts, there is pandemonium in the studio right now. Wet paintings everywhere, half-finished, half done. I am racing to the wire with my distinctive, peculiar loping gait. 

Despite my best efforts, there is pandemonium in the studio right now. Wet paintings everywhere, half-finished, half done. I am racing to the wire with my distinctive, peculiar loping gait.  You might recall that I sincerely tried to avoid this outcome several months ago by getting frames made for paintings not yet started. I even bought bubble wrap. By now most of the paintings for the show are wrapped, labelled, and ready to be hung two weeks from Monday. But recently, I discovered that the list doesn't correspond with the pile and must be redone.  So far, so typical If it involves numbers, I get it wrong every time. So, with his generosity of spirit my Beloved is marching around with loving kindness trying to reconcile the list with the neat stack of bubble-wrapped paintings. The labels are duplicated and numerous but in their content they vary wildly. I am at pains to tell him to just "trust the numbers". Whatever about a consistent title, every painting gets a number early on. Then it gets entered into my beautiful database. Always. He can bearly contain his incredulity at the confusion I have managed to create, and neither can he contain his mirth.  I am only interrupting this tranquil scene to let you know that the date has been set for the opening reception for this show at the Courthouse Arts Centre, Tinahely Co Wicklow, on Sunday afternoon, October 16, 2022. My other big news is that I will be included (in a small way) in a TV programme on TG4 called Imeall (Edge) tomorrow night, celebrating Culture Night. The Red Shoe Film crew came here months ago, and despite my love of the cúpla focail, I couldn't cobble together a few sentences 'as Gaeilge'*. For that reason, my contribution will all be 'i mBéarla'.** I find it hard enough to be coherent in English that it was extremely challenging in Irish. I gave it my best shot, and before throwing in the towel, I talked a lot of nonsense about being out of my mind instead of what was in my mind. I probably never said truer words (in Irish or in English)

as Gaeilge. in Irish language 'i mBéarla in English language

On Being Catapulted Back 40 years

Today, I cycled in my first St Patrick's Day parade. It was also a first, I think,  for Newcastle village where I live. 

A motley crew was hastily gathered to follow the the1954 Massey Ferguson bedecked with festive flags. Most of us were in our pyjamas 20 minutes before, so it was quite the lesson in organisation to see how it all came together.

 

As I cycled up the road,  I met my neighbours ( (in a socially distant way)), In an instant, I was catapulted back 40 years.

 

In 1981, The International Year of The Disabled, I was invited by a state agency with responsibility for disabled people to participate in the St Patrick's Day parade in Dublin, using a tandem, under the banner 'We Can Do It Together'.

 

By that time, I was already a familiar sight around the city on my bicycle with two empty sleeves flying in the wind. I created quite the spectacle

 

 

My bicycle was an elegant, two-wheel racing machine. The racing handlebars return slightly upwards at an angle of 45°. Into those handlebars was fitted and aluminium frame. It looked pretty much like the handlebars on a pram. This device allowed me to steer the bicycle, and together with a backpedal brake, I was ready to take on the city that was beset with bus strikes. As a mode of transport, it attracted a lot of attention and this attention resulted in my invitation to participate in the St Patrick's Day parade.

 

At that time, I was a student in art college and not yet 20 years old, but I really knew that in the circumstances, I needed to be in the driving seat. The state agency with the tandem, would not hear of it.  I was as adamant then as  I would be now -  I don't see myself as a passenger.

 

It was as clear to me then that as disabled people we need to be leading the way when it comes to solving issues that affect us deeply.

 Forty years ago as a teenager, I thought this ought to have been also evident to the agency set up to support us live self-determined, independent lives.   But clearly, it wasn't.

 

I recall the almost total incredulity that I was not cooperating. The agency was fairly lacking in any comprehension as to what my difficulty might be. For myself, it was clear that it was far from co-operation they had in mind (It felt more like conscription).

 

I even suggested that we cycle two independent bicycles under the banner but it didn't happen.

 

So, yesterday,  after 40 years I finally got to cycle in the St Patrick's Day parade. 

Now my bicycle has got three wheels. It is a recumbent machine built for speed and so I had no trouble keeping up with Billy on the 1954 tractor or my neighbour Ruth with Winnie, the Wonderful Falabella. Keeping up with Ruth and Raz's little ones proved to be the real challenge.

 

St Patrick's Day Parade Newcastle, Wicklow