Emma in Cork 2007 / 2008 - Part 3

EMMA HITS CO KERRY

And so we hired a car and headed to Co Kerry, which is one of the most stunning, if not THE MOST STUNNING, county in Ireland.

We wanted to show Emz the Ireland outside the gray cities, where all the houses are the same and the greyness of everything gets you down if you look at it too long. Rural Ireland is stunning, not that Killarney itself is so rural, but driving around Kerry, where you have sheep on the side of the road, that's rural, and that's cool!

Our first stop was at the hotel where Cath and I attended the wedding reception of my friend Brianne (pro: Bree - Anne), who I used to work at EI with.

The hotel had a stunning view of the Gap of Dunloe, which, seeing as we were in the area, we thought we may as well go and show her. Leading up to the hotel was a lovely tree-lined road which was worth a piccie too.

After Dunloe se gat, we headed off to Killarney, where cath had booked us into a hostel. I have to say, it was probably the nicest hostel we've ever stayed in. We had a four-bunk room all to ourselves and the kitchen was pretty cool. We even got a free breakfast - which we didn't know about - so it was an added bonus!


That night, after we made our food and had a big ol chat with some geezer from the UK, we headed off to the town centre to find some traditional music. As is the norm, most things only really kick off at about 11pm, so we drank a few jugs while we waited and when the music came on, it wasn't traditional at all, but contemporary music like James and REM, etc. It was quite cool but we were right at the front by the moerse speakers so we got blasted a bit.

After that we headed onto the streets and took a few piccies of the Christmas lights which were quite cool.





We then headed back to the hostel and it was then that my horrible secret was revealed... I'm a cross-dresser. But Cath's Pajamas are just so...comfy!

After a few games of cards and a few cards of 30 seconds, the girls looked so cute that I had to snap this photie before hitting the sack.

Day 2

After brekkie, we headed to the car which we had parked in a nearby lot and found that someone had taken delight in spray-painting a golden line along the back of our rented car. Luckily, there was so much dew / frost on the car that we could actually scratch the gold paint off the black without damaging the original coat - which was lucky because you'd normally have to pay the rental company about 250 euros for that - even though it wasn't our fault!




Deciding it was our lucky day, we headed for the Ring of Kerry, a scenic drive of a few hours drive which has some great scenery, including some Chapmans Peak-type views, sheep on the roads (as mentioned), lakes, villages, etc.

Our first stop:

The roads were windy and treacherous, and about as wide as two small cars, although they would narrow every now n again so be wide enough for only one small car. Despite that, the speed limit is still 100, although every now n again it would drop to 25, which is about the speed your car would go if you got out and pushed it along a flat road. There was no 50, no 60, no 80 - it was either 100 or 25, which had me either doing half the limit, or almost doubling it. Our car adopted a choice phrase whenever we saw a sigh saying 25 - which involved the three of us telling them exactly what they could do with their 25. I won't repeat it here.

Evan Almighty said it best when he said: "SHEEEEEEEEP!"

Catherine reckons that the Irish government made an error in printing about a million too many '100 speed limit' signs, and had to use them up around the country. I think she's onto something.


Anyhoo, we were pretty close to a spot where we could drive across a bridge to be on an island so we did so and stopped for another photie. There was a cool rock announcing that we were on the island so we got out to snap a few pics and BOOM - down came the rain. We belted back to the car but had got fairly wet in the 10 or so seconds we were outside.

Then, further along, we saw a sign announcing

'THE SKELLIGS'

which, because I'm so knowlegable, I knew were rocky island a few miles offshore on which puffins tend to lay their eggs. We headed on a slight detour and a nice lady even lent us her binocs so we could have a slightly closer peek. They were quite cool.

While we were there, we snuck into a 'no-go area' - just to say we did - we're so sneaky!

And I took this one of my wife - the uber-babe.

An hour or so later, we hit the mountainsand and at the top of one pass, we stopped at a viewing spot for a packed lunch (we're so organised). For me, as is evidenced by my large belly, a great lunch includes coke, chocolate biscuits and the like - but to the Heany clan, what excites them - friggin carrots! Cath and Emma fought over one particular carrot and thought it was hilarious!

The view from this spot was pretty cool - and invluded a stone circle, which we weren't about to drive back down to, to find out what it was.

Later, after a brief hailstorm, we came across a view of Ireland's tallest mountain, Carrantouhill (I think I spelled that right). It had snow on top, which had us all feeling a bit chilly. Only one thing for it. Tea and pancakes at a local shoppie!

Which was really divine!

And from there - back to Killarney for supper and a beer!

Guinness and an undertaker...

I was pretty knackered after driving for the better part of a day, but we still needed to show Emz some Oirish music. We found a place that served pub-grub and did music and sat and ate happily until the music began - but once again, it wasn't Oirish. But seeing as we clapped after each song, yer man asked us if we had any requests and I asked for one of our favourites - a big crowd favourite in Ireland - 'The fields of Athenry' - a song about an old codger being sent off to Australia as a convict for stealing some food from the British landlord to feed his family.

He played it really soulfully and so Emma had got her first real taste of Oirish music.


But as we needed more and he was going back to the modern stuff, we went pub-hopping, looking for some more. We came across a pretty packed place where a band was playing some quality Irish stuff - albeit with no fiddle - and were lucky to find some seats. I liked the place right away - it had a Liverpool flag hanging in the corner!

A stag night was also in progress and we got to talking to some of the guys, which gave Emma another taste of the Irish men in action. As the two girls with me both love their numbers and figures, I told them that the men had obviously done THEIR maths and seen one guy (me) and two girls - and moved in for the kill. One of the guys was an undertaker and his friends told him that he could tell us our height just by looking at us, which he duly did - spot on, down to within a centimetre. He was quite a cool oke actually, and we shared a laff - although he had a strong accent on him and Emz struggled to understand what he was saying.

The music was quite good here too.

But what trip to Ireland would be complete without a taste of the black stuff and so I surprised the girls with a half-pint and made them share it. To their credit, they finished it, which I certainly can't do with a pint of the stuff. I don't think they liked it so much though.

DAY 3

After church the next morning we headed to Ross castle, which is but a short drive, where we looked out over a quiet lake and had a bit of fun posing with the cannons, etc...

... played Romeo and Juliet...

... went for a long walk ... and found a bull for Emma to befriend in her red top. She was chicken though, we tried to make her go closer.

Then we began the trek back to Cork but on coming around a corner, bumped into these geezers. We didn't know hat they were all doing, walking around in the rain, until one took off his jumper, swung his arms a bit, juggled a ball, and then hurled it down the road. "Aaaah! Road bowls" I said - "the 'other' great Gaelic game," remembering the bowls stories I've subbed for the paper (see other stories on this blog).

We were in a little village called Kealkill and the locals were obviously having some 'big' match. Don't ask me how it works - no-one but die-hards knows how the sport works.
we decided to eat lunch as we drove along behind them (they offered to let us past, but we were quite happy to get a glimpse of the sport while we munched saamies.

Last stop before home though was a trip to Blarney castle, where you can kiss the Blarney stone for the gift of the gab. Cath has kissed it every time we've been but my folks have asked me to never do it again as I just can't shut up. So while the girls got down to kiss it (at the top of the castle) , I took photies.

The girls in front of the castle...

And Emma pointing at where the stone is...

Cath absolutely forbade me from including this photie, so here it is. This was taken at the wishing steps, a slippery stone staircase at the best of times, but especially in the rain. To make a wish, you have to go down it forward with your eyes closed, and then back up, backwards, again with your eyes closed. Cath is the picture of concentration...

And that's that - our trip in a nutshell - albeit a very large nutshell. Emma's gone now and the house just isn't the same without her. Come back Emma, we won't make you sweep and clean and make tea for me anymore!

Emma in Cork 2007 / 2008 - Part 2

With the weather hitting freezing, we had to dress up a bit --
but damn we look stylish in our beanies!

As Emma arrived on about the 30th or there-abouts, one of the first points of call was to do the New Year's Eve thing. Now seeing as Emma was with us, Cath and I had to pretend to be cool and do something - unlike a few years back when we sat on our bed, watching DVDs on our laptop (dear God we're old). So we found a place where Cath had been with her work buddies that was pretty cool and which had room to dance around in which was pretty cool.

I worked on New Year's eve but a few of us went in an hour earlier and we got let out at about 10pm so there was still plenty of time to lubricate the throat before the celebrations began.

We give Emma a hard time about her 'alcohol problem' ever since we saw some photos of her on facebook looking like she'd downed a few bottles of champagne. She claims the photos in question were just bad photos and that she was entirely sober - but who are you going to believe - her or me?

Anyhoo, we took a few more photies of her for facebook - to show her friends that her problem is still alive and kicking! Good girl that she is, she played along. We tried to get a similar one of Cath, but she just looked like she was enjoying her drink so we eventually had to just get her to stick her tongue out and close her eyes...

Then came the dancing. In traditional Alan fashion, I stuck my bum out when I danced to every song but as Emma is never going to again see the people in the pub / club, she didn't mind - and even let me swing her around to a few songs.

But then the song ended and a new song came on

... which

was a ... TRADGEDY!

A few hours later, the countdown began and we popped our party poppers, which Cath had given me as a stocking filler for Christmas, and hugged each other. We stuck around for a few more hours before grabbing some LEGENDARY chicken burgers at Hillybillys on the way home.

All in all - a good night. Thank God we had Emma with us. The only thing I missed was 'Dinner for one' - the TV show that comes on every year at New Year's Eve in SA and which no-one here has ever heard of.

2008 here we come!

It wasn't long before things were back to normal. In fact, you could pretty much say that the new year started as the old one ended - with Cath and Emma fighting each other on the couch. There was tickling, hickeys, poking and even the grabbing of unmentionables and at one stage, Cath got Emma 'with the bone'. Trust me, you don't wanna know! This photographer enjoyed the action and happily snapped away while the girls carried on oblivious to anything but each other!

BEAUTIFUL GIRLS...

Cath decided that the girls needed to spend some quality time having a makeover session. I don't know why - neither of them copuld possibly be any more good-looking (unless they were a Valkenburg of course - Cath is, but not by birth the poor girl)

Anyhoo, while I was at work, they did the whole hog - face masks, cream, etc.

Cath enjoyed the smell of the body yoghurt so much (Christmas gift from Mart,Inge, Kiara and Jake) that she even tried to eat it. IT ISN'T FOR EATING CATH!

Then I got home and discovered that Emma had the biggest collection of toe-jam in the entire world. I mean really, you could stuff pillows with the stuff between her toes! There was nothing for it -- I had to give her a toe-floss. The beautification process was then complete.
If you notice my expression, it was really hard work -- some of that stuff was
really wedged in there!

And so on to Part 3 - Our trip to Kerry.

Emma in Cork 2007 / 2008 - Part 1

She came, she saw, she conquered.

Young Emma Heany was not put off by the thought of travelling alone at the tender age of 18. Her three bags packed and heavily laden with the things that will get her through the year away from home (sweet home) and Delano (sweet Delano), she flew over from Cape Town to Windhoek, from Windhoek to Gatwick and from Gatwick to us in Cork.

Delano and Cape Town's loss was Cath and my gain -- and we tried to show her a good enough time to make her want to come back soon. I think we did. Cath will insist it was her bacon and chicken dish that'll see Emma back soon, but I reckon it was the morning chats (with me) and gym sessions.

The post-it with 'The Emma room' had been stuck to the spare bedroom's door for a while -- as we made it clear to our friends that whoever came to visit us first got the room named after them -- so Emma knew she was free to make herself at home when she saw her name on the door.

And she did.

I'd told her that she was going to have to 'pay her way' by doing dishes, sweeping, making me tea, etc. Despite this, I found that while she was around, instead of a clean wash-rack, there were MORE dishes for ME to wash, more hair all over our floor and less food in the fridge. I did get tea made for me fairly often though, and Emma doesn't doubt me anymore when I tell her I drink about eight cups of tea a day.

The weather was crap and only now that she's been here can Emma understand what it is to live in a place where you have to put on your jacket over your warm top, get your gloves, scarf and beanie - all just for the three minute walk to work. Oh for the Cape Town summer.

But the weather didn't stop us doing stuff - and one of our first points of call was to make a trip to Fitzgerald Park for a bit of camogie / hurling. Emma's a naturally gifted sportsman -- she's almost as good as her oldest sister -- so it was no surprise that she took to it like her brother to the FHM calendar...

... despite a brief alteration with her hair flying into her mouth...

Cath then decided that she needed to show Emma who the alpha-female was, and demonstrated her own prowess with the hurley.

And then Emma got her own back...

I, of course, was fantastic too --but that goes without saying. But I'll say it anyway.

After the hurling / camogie, we rewarded ourselves with a few cuppas and cake at a local coffee shoppe before returning home.


While both Cath and I took a few days off from our jobs, once we were back to work it was Emma and I in the days and Emma and Cath in the eves. But before Cath headed back to work on tweede nuwe jaar (second New Year - January 2 in Cape Town), we had a few nights together to wander around and do a thing or two.

We went to Shandon to ring the bells but in typical fashion, it was closed for renovations.
But the Christmas lights were still up and it was pretty cool to see some of the lights after a bout of Thursday night shopping.

Speaking of shopping, the girls got up to a bit on their own too, and tried on some hats in Penneys, where more than one item was bought to add difficulty to Emma's baggage problem (carrying it all when she eventually returned to england).

They also came across this white geezer - who wouldn't have been out of place in South Africa - at the cricket in front of the sightscreen.

And in typical Heany tradition, if it wasn't shopping, it was eating. But at least Emma was eating mainly good stuff - which is more than can be said for Cath and I. She was quite tickled by what she reckoned was the world's largest carrot, which we found in Tescos.

That's enough for now... check out 'Emma in Ireland, part 2 and 3' ... coming soon!

Supermodels my ass

Annoyed at seeing my newspaper publishing another piece on a supposed 'supermodel', I spoke to one of the head honchos at the paper and queried how it is some Irish model (Katy French), who I certainly had never heard of before she got into the news for a cocaine overdose, could be called a supermodel.

To my mind, a supermodel is at least, well known. I heard a while back that there are only about nine in existence and that probably seems about right to me: Whether Naomi Campbell, Claudi Scheiffer, Cindy Crawford or that Aussie chick - whatsisname - are even around anymore, I don't even know - but the point is - you can't just call any model a supermodel.

However my boss replied by asking me 'who decides who's a supermodel?' and saying that since there's no league table for models (there should be we agreed), he thought using 'supermodel' in the paper was fine. I agree with his logic - to a point, but just because no-one has the exclusive rights to decide, who is and who isn't, doesn't mean that just anyone can or should. Or does it?

With this in mind, I have decided that seeing as there is no league table for sub-editors in the world, or for people in general, I shall now call myself a super-sub when I am at work and a super-person just in general.

I'm probably as well known as Katy frikkin French anyway.