Three weekends ago, we were back in Cork for the Month's Mind, essentially this is an Irish Catholic tradition in which the family pays more money to the church who then dedicates a mass to the family member on the month's anniversary of the funeral. Practically everyone who was at the funeral comes back and it's rather of short version of the three-day wake/funeral. We visited Ciaran's grave and mingled with family and ate too much and cried. I think it's good, despite it being another occasion on which the Church takes advantage of its congregation in that it seemed to bring closure to most of the family and friends. The grief was tempered and more heartfelt than that which immediately followed Ciaran's death. I'm glad to have been able to go and to support Sinéad and be there for her family. Even though it's a series of traditions which are alien to me (which I found exhausting simply from the toll of unfamiliarity not to mention everything else), I could understand a bit more the meaning behind them and how they evolved and the purpose that they're meant to serve. I find that to be comforting in some small, overly logical OCD part of myself.
The next weekend, Sinéad and I schlepped up to a well-deserved weekend in Glasgow to pay Helen back for about ten visits that's she made down South (admittedly usually piggy backing on some work jaunt). An eight hour drive after work does not happy bunnies make (particularly since it's Sinéad doing all the driving). Friday, while Helen worked, Sinéad slept until 3:30 (the mind boggles) and I had the first relaxing day in a long time, with not a lot of much to do except read the 7th Harry Potter. Heaven.
On Saturday we faffed about town and on Sunday we went to the Glasgow Show where I developed a passion for rowing, threw a caber (assisted by a very large man in a kilt), and saw Indian running ducks herded around an obstacle course by sheepdogs in training... actually a bit more entertaining than actual sheepdog trials, once you kicked all the kids out of the way so as to get a better view.
The weekend after Glasgow (no rest for the wicked) was Jim's big THREE OH fancy dress pah-tay in London. Pretty swish, fablus cake, and I combined the whole affair with dragging Sinéad to an exhibit at the Tate Modern on Global Cities which she found wanky and I found interesting. But I think I avoided the wanky looking aspects of the exhibit and focused on what I found interesting. It's all what you go in looking for, I imagine.
Related Links:
Month's Mind
The Glasgow Show
Indian Running Ducks
Tossing the Caber
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