Status Quo

As I am in the habit of reminiscing these days, what with no job and more time on my hands than I am comfortable with, I have decided to update my blog once again.

Yes, Status Quo, apart from the Latin meaning 'the existing state of affairs'', was also an English rock band of the late seventies. I quite liked them but they weren't as cool as Led Zeppelin or some of the others, at least not in our house.

Anyway, one evening I found myself babysitting for the children of my employer, where I was working at the bottom rung of an up-market restaurant kitchen in South Dublin. A place where The Kinks nearly came to dine, but cancelled at the last minute to the great disappointment of, well, all of us. Bob Geldof's ex girlfriend was a waitress there, which makes it three dubious claims to fame after I tell you the not very interesting Status Quo story.

I was a reluctant babysitter, as I really wasn't a child oriented person, having already been the big sister to three siblings. I'd had kind of had enough of all that by the time I had reached my teens. Anyhow there was a few quid to be had, and we were in a recession, so I couldn't refuse.

The parents told me there was a guest staying and so I shrugged. No big deal. The guest was sitting in the living room with me all evening, we mumbled a few pleasantries, and I kept on reading my book. I couldn't help peering at him over the rim of my book, because I had seen him before somewhere, but couldn't nail it. I came to the conclusion he must be a friend of my Dad's or something. He headed off to bed eventually, and as I was staying over, so did I. (no, not the same bed).

At breakfast, my employer asked me how we had got on. I told her the children had slept all night and hadn't been any bother. No, with the guest she meant. Oh, why?
He was a member of Status Quo. The base player, I think, who had been looking for somewhere low-key to stay while in Dublin. The one who didn't have the permed curly hair, the fashion of the late seventies and early eighties. Ah, so that is where I'd seen him before. Just thinking how I had missed my opportunity for an autograph, and some interesting stories, all for the sake of a book, the title of which I can't even remember.

Well, I warned you it wouldn't be too a interesting story, but I had fun writing it and kept myself out of trouble for a few minutes.

All the best
Fiocle

Across the border with Miami Fix - and some Irish history.

I have been meaning to write about this for some time, but I always seem to find an excuse to avoid doing so. For example, what would the band think of a blog post like this? ... and other insecurities.

It came up for me again yesterday, after reading a blog post by an excellent writer, and Facebook friend Rodak.. http://rrrrodak.blogspot.com/2012/04/reflections-on-faith-and-friendship.html  It was the reference to the shooting of innocent youngsters in a Ohio University, which jogged the memory. Only one aspect of a poignant story which he wrote on the topic of faith and friendship.

 In 1980 I was invited to take part in a video in Ardmore Studios. Agnes Bernelle, Brecht artiste and friend of my mothers, asked me to go along as they were friends of hers. I was nineteen. The story I am about to tell.was prompted by remembering, about a year ago, of the existence the following video which for me was the beginning of an unpleasant discovery.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0-BxrqOCPoU

This is not a love song, as it might appear on first glance. It is a tribute to the five members of The Miami Show Band who were shot in cold blood at a faux check-point, at the then, border between the North and the South of Ireland. The Irish border was established in 1922 when Michael Collins struck a deal with the British government, settling for 26 out of the 32 counties. It didn't turn out to be a popular move on his part, and was assassinated in the same year by the Anti-Treaty IRA.

The border checks have since stopped and the British Army has finally left the country.

At the time of the making of the video, I had no idea that any of the following had happened. I was eleven in 1972 and had never watched television or read papers in the school I was attending, pretty much full time. And then I guess the story got lost over the years..

                              I discovered this book on the web after doing some research.

Stephen Travers was the base player. 

He survived by playing dead, while the gunmen walked around the area looking for survivors.

The fifth band member  who survived went to visit relatives instead of travelling back with the others. 

One of their most popular songs.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGQOLZkTRXQ

More to follow.....

Spirituality

"Spirituality and the search for meaning are one and the same reality. Some of us suffer from a degree of spiritual malnutrition due to our inner life receiving inadequate attention. This is often due to the pace and noise of modern living which leaves little room for reflection and stillness, something true even for young children. Not being able to make time to reflect on what lies deepest in us can lead to apathy and even to meaningless in personal living. Living with a level of meaning that satisfies comes from discovering our inner hopes and desires. That is what spirituality, the life of the human spirit, is about."

I found this quote, as is, on a piece of A4 among my papers. There is no mention of an author or even an 'anonymous', so I cannot say where this is from.

What I do know is that it rings true.

It is: The Year of the Dragon and it is, St Georges day in England today - so...

Just to prove that not all saints hail from the land of Saints and scholars, I need to do some research into St George and his collision with The Dragon. as depicted here:

A painting by Gustav Moreau

It seems to be another classic "Knight in Shining Armour" story where the knight rescues the 'maiden-in-distress' by killing the bad guy, or climbing up her hair, or kissing her to wake her up, and so on.

Actually the dragon side of things seems more interesting as it is now be an extinct species, unless you count Komodo dragons, who reside on, the aptly named, Komodo Island.

and  St George was merely species ‘man’, which hasn’t been wiped out just yet, which is a good thing. I am a pacifist, but then wouldn’t you have killed a dragon if it had been threatening to burn you with its fiery breath. Me. I would have called the fire-brigade, but then maybe there wasn’t such a thing back in the day of ancient folk-lore.

My gripe is this. My daughter has a dragon tattoo on her hip. She was born in the year of the dragon and we see that as a good thing. So to hear about the demise of the last dragon on earth is really very tragic. George, you ain’t no Saint, in my book. But then again, I don’t know you very well.
And then there is the girl with the Dragon Tattoo, a marvellous book by all accounts and a good movie too. Though I shamefully admit I haven’t gotten round to reading the book or watching the movie, yet. But I want to, and I really will.

Back to Georges Day. I don’t know much about it, because I was too busy trying to understand the myth of Saint Patrick and The Snakes. Sounds like the name of a metal band, but as per usual, I digress.



Although to try to understand it from my perspective, as children my brother and I used to travel  to school on dark cold mornings in the Grumpy-bus, driven by The Dragon lady. Alright, now I will debunk that myth. She was grumpy, because a she had to get up on cold dark mornings to do the school run, and she was nick-named Dragon Lady because she was a chain-smoker which five year old imagination of my big brother evidently found amusing. What this has to do with St George, escapes me, but heck, Dragons are extinct now, so I am not sceared.
Thanks George, you’re a saint!

N.B.  All research into this article was not done on google or found in books, but excavated from the, alleged ‘depths’, of Fiocle’s brain.
Except this one:
“Others trace the origin of Saint George and the Dragon to Palestine, where the supposed dragon was controlled by Satan. The creature blocked the city's water supply and would only move if given a virgin sacrifice. Over time, all of the virgins were sacrificed except for the noble's daughter, and even she was sent to quench the castle's thirst. However, Saint George (or Mar Jiryis ) arrived at the last moment on his white horse, striking down the dragon with a spear between its eyes.”
I wonder was the dragon possibly the last dinosaur on earth?  A pterodactyl ?  Flying reptile.  Makes sense to me. Anyway it’s all history now, isn’t it?
Disclaimer – no dragons were harmed in the making of this blog post.  Neither were any Georges.

Cecelia the Patron Saint of Church music- and some more synchronicity

I will be attending my cousin Mary's 90th birthday celebration on Saturday at our family home.                      The last 90th birthday I attended was that of my cousin Kitty, whose second name is Cecily. It took place in the same house although I was much younger then and I had invented a type of sandwich for the occasion which I named The Snail. I doubt anyone remembers it though.

Last night, by accident I found a song sung by a Norwegian called Sissel which turns out to be a version of the name Cecilia. I discovered that St Cecelia is the patron Saint of church music. I really don't seem to be able to write in this blog these days without getting a Saint in there somewhere. But then, this is the land of Saints and Scholars after all.

There is a book coming out soon, if it hasn't already, proving that all the Saints ever, have their origins in Ireland. Maybe I got that wrong as I was told in passing and my memory can be compared to a gold-panner at times.

Sissel's birthday is on the same day as mine, which I found interesting and I had a Norwegian great-grandmother who I never knew. I have been planning to research into her geneology, as not much is known about her from before she married my great-grandfather, and he took her to back to Australia where they, I don't know, started a family, I think. 

I will finish this later...

but then I say that about everything I do, I think I will change my name to Unfinished. It has a good ring to it, don't you think?