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Chips … with a side of Yeats & Heaney, please.

July 30, 2014

Yeats Memorial Building

So I arrived in Sligo on Sunday, in time for the launch of the Yeats International Summer School by Alan Gilsenan: film maker, writer, playwright … hell, renaissance man basically.  The next time I blog about the School it will be in a more serious vein, and I will return to Gilsenan’s speech because he made some very pertinent points. Some things haven’t changed since Yeats spoke of greasy tills and Art beaten down.

But for now, a quick postcard from Sligo:

As I type in the internet café the sun has come out at last. It’s either poured, rained, spat, or mishted [sic] since I got here. And what matter. Sunday found me in a grey Drumcliffe brightened by the rector’s welcome to our bundle of Yeats scholars arriving for Evensong – now a long established tradition. The service included a prayer of gratitude for the patrons of the School, notably those who fund the Pierce Loughran scholarship, of which I am a happy and grateful recipient. Thanks to the Loughran family I am in Sligo fed and found, with entry to all events.  Whether a believer or not, it’s always nice to say thank you. And my Mum will be delighted that her pagan daughter ended up in a church on a Sunday, singing All Things Bright & Beautiful!

There was a trip around Yeats country, and a dinner for everyone to top off  Sunday. Then, time to settle in, get my bearings and find a rhythm to the days.  I’ve never stayed in Sligo before,but I think I’ve managed to grasp the one way system and to suss out the decent parking spots. Some of us are staying outside the town in the Yeats Village student accommodation (yes, the poor man is everywhere).  I’ve furnished my student nest with necessities: real coffee, cafétiere, books, my poetry notebooks, a radio, chocolate. Reader, I’m a happy camper.

The day breaks into two lectures in the morning, lunchtime events here and there, a  weekly-themed seminar from 4.30 to 6pm, with evening readings at 8pm followed by mayhem in various bars. There was an Open Mic in the Yeats Memorial Building Café today; another one next week.  The Yeats Society is housed there and is a great resource – the library in particular. The staff and volunteers are fantastic. Looking to the future, they have formed a Young Yeats Society, some of whom are volunteers for these two weeks of the School. One of them, Kerry, is in my seminar.

Today I needed time out, and drove south west to Strandhill, where I hit the lauded Shells Café for a very late brunch. Bless them – I got there on the cusp of 1pm and they still gave me a breakfast of Eggs Arnold and damn fine coffee. Oh, and a side of chips.

Those chips!

They were the chips of our memories: chips from a real Italian chipper; the chips you had as a kid on the first day of your holidays at the seaside; the chips your Dad brought home as a surprise; chips with crunch, and crispy bits; chips that were handcut; chips – in short – that were made and cooked with Lurve.

shells cafe

I will dream of those chips. In fact, I may have to travel back out to Strandhill for another SOUP PLATE of them. Yup – they arrived in a soup plate. €3.  I repeat. €3. That’s all. For a little bit of potato heaven. Served with a smile.

I got a takeaway coffee in a funky Shells paper cup and stood at the sea wall, letting the incoming mist hit my face, clearing cobwebs of academic argument. Then, turning Mighty Aphrodite – the Blue VW Polo – around, I headed up Knocknarea mountain and back around to the archaeological site of Carrowmore. I was running out of time, but another €3 at the small, perfectly formed Office of Public Works centre bought me the chance to walk a mown grass path up to the large cairn. I circled it and the megalithic tomb within, before heading back to town in time for my seminar. This week it’s Yeats and Heaney, and it’s just GREAT. More of that anon.

But for now, a little tongue-in-cheek whatnot I conjured up on the drive back into Sligo:

The Yeats School Days – in Clichés.

Three euro to park in the Cathedral,

Three euro for 5000 years of Carrowmore.

You pays yer money,

You takes yer choice.

Then straight off the rocks,

Into Heaney and Yeats.

Shaken and stirred.

c. Karen J McDonnell July, 2014.

Straight off the rocks

Straight off the rocks

Now, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve a reading from the Gallery Poets to get to!!

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