Mum s the Word by Ruth Leigh

Mum’s (or Possibly Mom’s) the Word

by Ruth Leigh

I’m writing this on Mothering Sunday, also known as Mother’s Day. It’s Sunday 14th March, I’m in the beautiful county of Suffolk in Eastern England, the sky is blue, the birds are singing and I’m still in bed. “Ruth, you lazy old moo,” you might be thinking. “Surely you should be up, doing things. It’s nearly 2 o’clock in the afternoon.” Normally I’d agree with you. I’m a do-er, a Type A achiever, a woman who likes to achieve six impossible, or at least unlikely, things before breakfast. Not today though. Today is my day. Eighteen years ago, I embarked on the most terrifying, inspiring, amazing journey of my life. We’d been married for ten years and everyone had given up on us ever having babies (not that it was any of their business). My husband told me that he married me for me, not for children, and I just wasn’t ready. I didn’t know if I ever would be. Then suddenly I was. Not to go into unnecessary details (we’ve only just met after all) but I will say that some red wine was involved in the final decision-making process. We were both thirtysix years old and we had no idea if we’d even be able to have a baby. The conversation went something like this: Me: I don’t know. It’s November. That would mean the baby coming along in August, our busiest time (we worked in hospitality) Him: But no-one ever gets pregnant first time. Me: What if I do? Him: Ruth, we’re in our late thirties. It may never happen. Wine? Nine and a half months later (and that’s another story), I was lying in a hospital bed holding a small, auburn-haired person and reassessing life as I knew it. The process was repeated (omitting the red wine) twice more and I am now the mother of a 6 foot 2” ginger heavy metal drummer, a 6 foot 3” science fanatic and a 5 foot 4” gymnastics and dance obsessed daughter. They’re 17, 14 and 12 now which means I get to do exactly what I like on Mother’s Day. My career as a writer in lock down has involved an awful lot of time sitting in the dining room staring at a screen. I worked hard all week to give myself today off. A smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel plus tea was delivered at 9 o’clock and then the children appeared and presented me with handwritten cards, three scented candles, flowers, and series nine and ten of Modern Family (one of America’s greatest exports). I bought the papers yesterday (the Times and the Guardian since you ask) and have been enjoying myself most mightily, reading through book reviews, think pieces and recipes while sipping hot beverages delivered to my bedside. When I first became a mother, I was convinced I was doing it all wrong. At toddler group, I would generally be late, almost invariably stained and sleep-deprived into the

bargain. It took me years to understand that the carefully curated pictures of maternal perfection on social media were not a reflection of real life. And I mean years. As one of my mothering heroes Vicki Iovine once remarked, life was easier back in the old days when all you had to do was get everyone bathed and off to church once a week. In Little Women, Marmee had enough to do with her work at the Rooms and trying to keep her household together. Imagine if she’d had to look at snarky posts from the Moffats and the Gardiners, bragging about their perfect interiors and their daughters’ excellent matches. Meantime in Avonlea, I feel that Josie Pye would have taken to social media, posting a constant stream of fitspo videos and body shaming Diana Barry. And can you imagine spoiled Cousin Lilly Page from What Katy Did Next on Insta? Poor Katy would have been cringing at the images of all her new clothes, her selfies with celebs and her constant bragging. Being a mother has turned my hair grey, given me wrinkles and lines, slowed me down and ruined my sleep patterns. But it’s also taught me more than my education ever did, brought me wonderful new friends, helped me to understand what unconditional love is and meant that I get to do whatever I want once a year. If you’re reading this in the UK, I hope you had a good day. For all you lovely American readers, Happy Mother’s Day in advance. It’s good to be a part of the Mom’s Favorite Reads family.

Ruth is a novelist and freelance writer who lives in beautiful East Suffolk in the UK. She is married with three children, one husband, three budgies, six quail, eight chickens and a kitten. Her first novel, “The Diary of Isabella M Smugge”, published by Instant Apostle, came out in February this year and she is working on the sequel. She writes for a number of small businesses and charities and blogs at ruthleighwrites.com. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter at ruthleighwrites.

Signs of Spring

by Melanie P. Smith

https://moms-favorite-reads.com/moms-authors/melanie-p-smith/

© MPSmith Publishing

Memories of Ireland

by Chantal Bellehumeur

Before the pandemic, I had the pleasure of traveling to Ireland with my eighteen-year-old son Aidan as well as my husband Jeff. We excitedly boarded our plane to Dublin on the Tuesday night of July 9, 2019. After a six hour and fifteen-minute direct flight from Montreal Canada, we safely arrived at our destination. Although it was 8:30 in the morning in Dublin, it was technically 3:30 for us. It would take us a couple of days to fully adjust to the five-hour time difference. The three of us sleepily collected our luggage from the conveyor belt of the baggage carousel and passed through customs, then took a twentyminute taxi ride to our hotel. The driver rode on the left side of the road which was a bit disorienting for us at first. We stayed at the Central Hotel in Dublin for eight nights during our vacation. The historic building built in 1887 was conveniently located at the centre of the big city, as the name would suggest, so we were at a walking distance from many tourist attractions and meet up locations for the various tours I had booked in advance for us.

When we first arrived at our lovely three-star hotel, the original plan was to simply drop off our luggage. We were pleasantly surprised to find out that our room was ready even though it was still early in the morning and the check-in time was supposed to be later in the afternoon. Feeling like we could all use a long nap, we headed upstairs to the third floor using the elevator, and did just that. Feeling jet lagged, we drowsily ate lunch at a cafe and leisurely walked around the crowded city before going on a free walking tour called Fables and Folklore. I had already studied the area back home, and mapped out in advance how to get to our meeting point across the river Liffey. It was the same for everything else I had booked in advance, although our meeting spot was usually much closer to our hotel. We went over the famous Ha'Penny Bridge to the North side in order to go meet our young volunteer guides, and crossed it again during the walking tour as well as many other times throughout our trip even though it was not the only bridge going over the long river. On this particular tour, we were brought to several landmarks to be recited mythical stories. At StPatrick’s Cathedral, for example, we were told that there were no snakes in Ireland because St-Patrick had chased them all into the sea. This information was then followed by the fact that St-Patrick’s Day is a national holiday in Ireland, and that it is highly celebrated every March 17th by just about anyone. However, we were warned that the tourism industry takes advantage and raises their prices. For the remainder of the day, we continued walking around Dublin like zombies because we were still super tired but eager to explore. We mainly stayed on the North side of the river. At one point, we walked by a music store and a small harp displayed in the large window caught my eye. Unable to forget the string instrument, I went back to the store with Jeff a few days later to inquire about the price even though I had no idea how to play it. I was shown music theory books, plus informed about video tutorials I could look up. I seriously considered learning how to play the harp, but never did buy one. I think I had just simply immersed myself in the Irish culture. Jeff engaged into the culture as well, by purchasing a dark blue coloured flat cap which he wore for most of the trip. While we were aimlessly wandering around on our first day, going in and out of shops, it began to rain. It started off with a few innocent droplets, but soon began to come down harder.

The sudden downpour made us run to the closest restaurant. We figured we might as well have dinner there, and asked to be seated at a table on their covered terrace despite the ongoing rainfall. My husband and I had our food with alcoholic drinks made in Ireland; a beer for Jeff, and a bottle of Craigies apple cider for myself. The three of us went to bed earlier than usual that night, but the rest of the city remained quite awake. We could actually hear traditional Irish music playing as well as people talking and singing from our hotel room.

To be fair, we did leave our windows slightly open because it would seem that we had brought some of Montreal’s summer heat with us. Since the temperature in Ireland rarely ever goes over twenty degrees Celsius, the hotel did not have air conditioning. We still managed to fall sleep and were all in much better shape the next morning. Together, we went down to the hotel’s small breakfast room for our first meal of the day. We could have a continental breakfast by selecting a few items from the two buffet tables, or order a full meal. We all ordered eggs every day, except when we had early excursions planned because we had to leave before food was even available. On those days, we ate muffins and fruits purchased in advance at Dunnes grocery store located directly in front of the hotel. We shopped there a few times throughout the week, as it was also a good place to get snacks and drinks. Our second day in Dublin was mainly spent at the Guinness storehouse and brewery, where we learnt how Ireland's famous black looking beer is made. Of course, we also sampled the dark drink. We were first given complimentary shot glasses filled with the dark red brew. Even in its small format it had a layer of white foam at the top. My son didn't like it at all. I am not a beer drinker, but at that moment I enjoyed having the drink. I also enjoyed the samples of other Guinness brews available, in an aromatic room. So did Jeff. When the sample session was over, we headed upstairs to the iconic Gravity Bar where we got a panoramic view of the city. We were also able to exchange vouchers for a free pint of beer or two half pints. My husband and I had half pints of the original Guinness which were served in tall glasses that had a harp on them. We then tried another beer brewed by Guinness; Hop House 13 Lager. Aidan on the other hand, exchanged his two vouchers for sodas.

While Jeff and I felt slightly tipsy by the time we left the crowded bar, Aidan was perfectly sober. We had lunch at the brewery's restaurant, trying out their Guinness batter fish and chips. We were all Guinessed out after that. Our return to the hotel was done in style; sitting in a horse drawn carriage. We didn't actually get dropped off right in front of our door. The coach went as far as it was allowed to in the direction of our hotel, and we walked the rest of the way. I love horse carriage rides. It was actually my idea to go on one, and I had a big smile on my face the whole time. The sound of the horse hooves hitting the pavement made me feel nostalgic for some reason.

Later that night, my husband and I went on a free ghost walking tour while Aidan did his own thing. My son and I travelled a lot together in the past and he has a much better sense of direction then I do, so I wasn’t too worried about him getting lost or anything. I have to admit that the ghost walk wasn't all that spooky, seeing that the stories were told in broad daylight because the sun did not set until around eleven. Jeff and I still had a good time though because the tales told in front of an old gothic church with gargoyles, an old prison, plus the old city wall which is supposedly the most haunted part of Ireland, were entertaining. Before heading back to our hotel, my husband and I decided to have drinks together; Bailey's Irish cream for myself, and an Irish beer for Jeff. We sat in the lovely enclosed courtyard of a pub with live music playing. It wasn’t part of the touristy Temple bar strip, so not crowded or overpriced. While we were nursing our alcoholic drinks, Jeff and I started talking to each other in the best Irish accent we could mimic which would soon become a habit; not just while we were in Ireland, but back home too. To be clear, we weren’t making fun of the sing-song accent but rather embraced it. Back at the hotel with Aidan, we ate the individually packaged cookies left for us by the cleaning staff. Jeff made himself a coffee while I steeped tea. It would become our evening ritual, along with making use of the hotel’s free Wi-Fi network to connect to the internet. Our third day in Ireland was spent traveling South of Dublin in a tour bus to visit three old castles.

The first one we visited was the impressive remains of Rock of Cashel, located on a grassy mountain top. We were free to roam within the dark walls and on the walled-in grounds which also contained an old graveyard with several high cross tombstones. Many black birds resembling crows flew around the thousand-year-old historical site, giving it an eerier feel. We also visited Castle, located on a rocky island beside a wide river where majestic white swans were swimming. It's one of the largest castles in Ireland and was built in 1142 by a man named Conor O'Brien. Seeing that my son's last name is O'Brien (his father and I split up when he was four), we joked about the well-preserved medieval castle possibly being part of his heritage. After a guided tour outside, during which we saw a cannonball lodged into the front castle wall as well as cannons on display and passed under rounded doorways with spiky metal gates, we were able to explore on our own outdoors as well as go look at the decorated interior.

The main attraction was Blarney Castle, where Jeff and I kissed the famous Blarney stone. Legend suggests that anyone kissing the limestone, which was set into a tower of the castle in 1446, would be given the gift of the gab. Aidan wasn't interested in standing in line for this, so he ventured on his own to explore the castle ground gardens. Jeff and I joined him later on for a short walk. We didn't have much leisure time left after exiting the small stone castle.

Jeff and I went up some narrow spiralling stone stairs all the way to the third floor and onto the roofless top. Being up there, looking down at the garden and trees below plus feeling the wind on my face made me really nervous since I have a fear of heights. The thought of partially hanging from the tower just to kiss a stone that thousands of other lips had touched made me question my sanity, but it turned out not to be scary at all; kissing the stone that is. The area was secured by a grate so nobody could accidentally plunge to their death, there were long metal bars to hold onto, and somebody was there to anchor my legs while I awkwardly dangled. Also, the rock itself was sanitized after anyone kissed it.

We came back from our day trip feeling tired, mainly because of the long bus ride, but it had been a wonderful day. It continued on a happy note with me ordering an Irish coffee at the charming hotel bar called the Library Bar. The elegant room had padded chairs and couches around low wooden coffee tables as well as shelves full of books. The fourth day of our vacation didn't start off very well. We had a tour booked to explore the Northern parts of Ireland, and arrived at our meeting point, the bronze Statue of Molly Malone, fifteen minutes early. However, about half an hour later no guide had showed up yet and nobody around us was waiting for the same tour. When I saw a guide from the company I had booked our tour with, I asked if he knew where our bus was. As it turned out, our pickup time had been changed but I had not been notified. It was too late for the bus to come back and get us, so the guide offered for us to go on his tour instead. We might have gone if we had not already booked the same tour with another company for a different day. We still wanted to go to Northern Ireland, so we headed back to our hotel to find another date available with a different company and try to change our schedule around to make it happen. I wasn’t in a good mood. Of course, I contacted the tour company and requested a full refund for the tour we missed which turned out to be quite complicated, seeing that I had booked it online through another party. In the end, it all worked itself out though. Once everything was rearranged and my mood was lifted, we collectively decided to walk around Dublin.

The three of us checked-out the kiosks and boutiques within an indoor Victorian style market before heading towards Dublin Castle. Parts of the outer walls were unexpectedly colourful. They had been painted red, yellow, green and blue, but the rest of the renovated old building looked like a typical castle. Although we could have paid to visit the inside, we all felt that we had visited enough castles the previous day. Instead, we walked around the beautiful garden as well as the courtyard and surrounding areas of the castle. Aidan took many great flora pictures there; surprisingly, using his cell phone. We then had lunch on the terrace of the castle's cafe which got infested with pigeons and seagulls trying to eat leftover food from the unoccupied tables. It was the last thing I would have expected there, but we all thought it was kind of funny. The three of us headed back towards our hotel and walked past it to get to a pedestrian street. It was full of buskers, so we stopped every so often to look at a few musical performances. One girl in particular got my attention, as she had a very nice singing voice. I threw in some Euro coins into her open guitar case after she sang her last song. We then walked on ahead to St-Stephen Green's beautiful Victorian style Park. After our leisure walk around a pond that had ducks and swans in it, we took the same pedestrian street back towards our hotel. Hungry, we stopped by a cafe for dinner and ate outside on their sixthfloor rooftop.

Later that night, Jeff and I went on a graveyard ghost tour. Aidan wasn't interested in it, so he did his own thing again while Jeff and I embarked inside a dark bus with covered windows.

We were first taken to the old city wall, and then driven to a graveyard while we were creepily being told horror stories. We didn't actually go inside the graveyard as I thought we would, but had a shot of a green coloured drink in front of the tall metal gates. Again, the sun was out so it wasn't really spooky. But, the way the interior of the bus had been decorated made up for it. The spookiness continued on the way back. The next day was extra special for me. We started by heading Southwest to the medieval city of Kilkenny. Our driver parked the bus by Kilkenny castle, and we were all given the chance to use the restrooms across the street as well as quickly buy lunch at an indoor food market before going on an optional walking tour. We almost didn’t make it on time for the guided walk because of the long line-ups, but the guide actually ended up waiting a little longer for everyone. We went down the main street where we were given historical facts and told legends. One of them was about the very first woman to be condemned of witchcraft in Ireland. Along with sorcery, she was accused of poisoning her four husbands. It was during the fourteenth century, and her servant Petronila ended up getting burnt at the stake rather than her. We were told that Petronila’s ghost could sometimes be seen in the streets at night. Our guide left us at the exact spot where the burning took place. Out of curiosity, we decided to walk down an alley to get a glimpse of the Kyteler’s Inn where Lady Alice Kyteler’s story originated. It still had some of its original stone walls and beams.

The three of us then headed back towards the castle and took a short stroll along the River Nore. We walked on a wide path between the water and castle’s curtain wall, watching kayakers below. Eventually, we headed up a staircase and took a dirt path in a woodsy area to eventually go walk around the massive grounds of the castle itself.

There was a public military ceremony happening in the courtyard which also included a live band. Jeff and I sat down together in the large field of grass that seemed to go on forever, and listened to the music while Aidan ventured on his own again. Jeff had purchased himself a small coffee-to-go from the outdoor café because he needed regular intakes of caffeine. He drank his beverage while he and I ate wraps we had bought earlier on. Jeff and I then headed to the front of the castle to walk among the beautiful rose garden surrounding a large stone fountain shooting out water from its centre. We reunited with Aidan earlier than planned since we bumped into each other shortly before having to get back on the bus. He showed us some of the new flower pictures he had taken which were amazing. Our bus driver then brought us to Wicklow Mountains National Park, driving right through the small town of Hollywood on the way. We also passed by green land with sheep where the movie "Braveheart" was filmed, and stopped by the Wicklow Gap for a panoramic view of the brown and green mountains. We continued on to the glacial valley of Glendalough and visited the ruins of St-Kevin's monastery within the national park. Everyone was told that if they could wrap their arms around StPatrick's cross in the old cemetery and touch their fingers together it would bring them good luck. I was unable to do so, but keep getting told I have enough luck.

Our leisure time at the national park was spent taking a pleasant walk around a lake in a woodsy area. We saw a doe as well as many fluffy white sheep outside the wide dirt path we were on, plus many patches of green clovers on the ground below the tall trees.

Our last activity was a sheep herding demonstration which was quite interesting to watch. There were two trained collies in the fenced-in sheep field, as well as a cute puppy who was officially starting her first day of work. My favourite part was having the privilege to feed two adorable lambs. I volunteered and was given a bottle of milk. The cute lambs fought each other for the long nipple once I put my arm through the short wooden fence, so I made sure each one got fairly fed. I let the white lamb suckle on the nipple for several seconds, then gave it to the black lamb. I switched every so often. Before the milk was even finished, both lambs suddenly walked away and I was forgotten. I will never forget them though. Although Wicklow lamb was on the menu of the fancy restaurant-bar we ended up at that evening, which made me sad, we enjoyed good food and drinks once again. We did feel a little underdressed in our casual clothing though, but since nobody mentioned a dress code we didn’t bother going to our hotel to change. The whiskey I ordered at the bar while we were waiting for a table came on a thick wooden board with the glass of liquor itself, a small pitcher of water, and a glass full of ice. It seemed very formal, and I must admit that for a second I became afraid of the price. I had not specified any brands, and hoped I had not been given one of the most expensive ones. My mind was put at ease when I found out that the bartender had given me their house brand, Black Bush, which ended up being my favorite.

July 15 was another fantastic day in Ireland for us. We travelled to the West side of the country this time, rolling by many hills and fields of grass with sheep. Some of the animals were actually walking on the side of the roads. Luckily, our bus driver did not hit any of them.

The three of us soon found ourselves walking along the edge of the cliffs of Moher; not too close of course, as we were warned ahead of time of its dangers. A few tourists had unfortunately fallen into the rocky waters and died trying to get good pictures of the beautiful scenery. Part of the breathtaking site was secured by a fence, but another area was to be ventured in at ones’ own risk.

A food kiosk separated the two areas, so I treated myself to a scone with strawberry jam. I ate it, sitting on a boulder, looking at the amazing view of the North Atlantic sea and cliffs. I could see the white O'Brien tower at the top of the cliff which we had walked by earlier on. It looked small from where I was.

After exploring the magnificent site, we headed to the visitor’s centre and entered the duty-free shop to buy a few souvenirs for ourselves as well as little gift items for others. The O’Brien family crest was on display along with information about the family name, so Aidan was able to read about his heritage.

Our bus then rode along the Wild Way and we made a quick stop to get another panoramic view of the sea.

Back on the bus, we were given an explanation of how the poor population of Ireland had built the short stone walls that were seen practically everywhere, during the four-year potato famine that started in 1845. The starving workers were only paid a penny per day for their hard labour which explained the name given to the boundary formations. It made me appreciate the ‘penny walls’ even more; especially those going up the mountains.

On our way to our next destination, we drove by the remains of several fortresses and castles; one of them was called Leprechaun Castle and was actually just a miniature stone structure about the size of a child’s playhouse built around a well. There was a lone donkey hanging around there. Our guide asked the driver to stop so she could feed the animal a banana. The last stop was in Galway City. Our tour guide brought us to the front of Lynch Castle which probably would have gone unnoticed otherwise because the small four-story limestone structure is attached to other buildings and is now a bank. She just wanted to show it to us before letting us wander around on our own in the cobblestone streets of the medieval city. Jeff took me to Claddagh jewellers, where the famous ring was originally crafted, and bought me a silver Claddagh ring with a green coloured stone heart; I chose it. As recommended, we then went to Murphy's ice cream shop to try samples of their cold treats made from Kerry cow's milk; I personally tasted their Irish coffee ice cream which had alcohol in it. Jeff and Aidan ordered ice cream cones, but I held back because of my unfortunate lactose intolerance. Although I had lactose pills with me, I was a bit paranoid and felt that the tiny sample was enough. I was hungry though, so once ‘my men’ were done eating their ice creams we headed to a pie shop for lunch. We ended up eating dessert as opposed to an actual meal. Although the small shop and diner had meat pies on their menu, we all decided on individual apple pies which were absolutely scrumptious. After browsing inside a few boutiques as well as the small artist market by St-Nicholas' church, it was time to head back. As we were leaving Galway, we drove past the pub where Ed Sheeren's video for "Galway girl" was filmed. This was the second Irish musical performer mentioned during the tour. We had learned how the song "Zombie" by The Cranberries came to be before listening to it as we rode through the lead singer's homeland. Whenever I hear either one of those songs now, I instantly think of Ireland but they both bring on completely different emotions. While “Galway Girl” provides me with a sensation of happiness and makes me want to dance, “Zombie” makes me feel sad since it was written based on the war that took place in Northern Ireland. On July 16th, we made our way to the Northern part of Ireland which is actually part of the United

Kingdom. The currency used there is British pounds rather than Euros. After driving past Belfast and getting a glimpse of where the Titanic sailed from back in 1912, we made a quick stop at King's Road; a nice wide path with tall trees on each side, and also one of the filming locations of the television show "Game of Thrones."

We then headed to our next destination and bravely crossed the twenty-metre long Carrick-A-Rede rope bridge to get from the mainland to a small island called Carrickaredel. I thought it would be difficult for me to do so since I am afraid of heights and the bridge is thirty metres above the sea level. But, I actually felt safer than expected since there was no wind to shake the wobbly bridge and I could hold onto both sides. I quite enjoyed the view while walking on the bridge, and even more so on the small island it led to. After an Irish lunch inside a little cafeteria-style restaurant located in the middle of nowhere, we visited the Giant's Causeway. The large site is composed of over forty thousand interlocking stones, most of which are hexagonal, as well as tall columns. Although they are the result of a volcano eruption, the World Heritage site got its name because of a legend stating that a giant named Finn built it while trying to protect Ireland from a threatening adversary. There is a large stone there that actually looks like a Giant's boot.

After those amazing visits, we headed in the direction of Dunluce Castle, located on the top of a cliff, and stopped on the side of the road for a couple of minutes to get a nice view. We looped back to Belfast which was a complete switch from the rest of the day. We had the option of walking around the downtown area on our own for an hour or go on a historic taxi tour. Although it is safe to be on your own in Belfast nowadays, I feel the need to point out that it is technically still a war zone. Our family opted for the famous black taxi tour which was an emotional ride. Although worth seeing, it was shocking to view the political murals, the gates that close at 6:30 sharp every evening, as well as the long tall wall that still divides the British Protestants and Irish Catholics living there. It was full of graffiti and we were encouraged to add our own message or drawing.

I grabbed one of the markers offered by our taxi driver to draw a black peace sign, then wrote my first name underneath it. Jeff marked the wall as well, but Aidan could not decide what to do. Perhaps he was still absorbing everything. The rest of Ireland had just celebrated their independence on July 12, so the Protestant side who are loyal to England and don't want a united Ireland still had all their Union Jack flags up. We learned that they usually parade into the Catholic side to brag about their past victory and that it can get pretty intense so there are never any taxi tours on that day. Sometimes the taxis don’t tour on the 13th either. It dawned on me that we were originally supposed to go to Northern Ireland on that day, so I considered the lack of notification for an earlier pick up a blessing in disguise. The taxi tour wasn't exactly what I would call a pleasant outing, especially that I felt like an intruder at times, but it was a major part of Irish history so I am glad I went. Shortly after getting back inside our tour bus, feeling like we had just visited another country, the guide pointed out the Titanic memorial statue. It only had the names of everyone from Belfast who had been in first class on the ship and died. Needless to say, Belfast was a melancholic place to be.

Back on a happier note, when we returned to Dublin we had some drinks at the Library Bar inside the hotel right before having dinner there as well. I tried a house whiskey which was pretty good. Aidan took a sip and really liked it too. Our last day in Ireland arrived quicker than we would have liked.

After a full Irish breakfast, Jeff and I headed to the archeology museum to see a recommended bog exhibition. It was both fascinating and creepy at the same time since it involved human bodies dating back a couple thousand years, recently found preserved in the bogs of Europe. They looked like leather props. We also briefly checked out the Medieval and Viking sections of the free museum.

Jeff and I then went to Lord Mayor's Lounge within the fancy Shelbourne hotel for High Tea. We listened to a live pianist play classical songs while we ate delicious scones with clotted cream and jam, as well as mini sandwiches and desserts. Of course, we also drank tea inside the elegant room. I personally selected Irish Whiskey cream tea, then a flowering tea. I was later served a special birthday treat, complete with a lit candle, even though it wasn't my birthday; I had mentioned it being my unbirthday as a joke when I made the reservation because I was asked if I was celebrating anything special. Feeling like our stomachs were going to burst after eating so much, Jeff and I headed to St-Stephen's Park to try and digest. While we sat in the grass, I ended up feeding birds some of the sesame seeds I had in my purse. It started off with ducks, but I ended up getting the attention of pigeons. I was actually swarmed by them, but enjoyed myself since I love birds.

A local man surprised us by hand feeding a swan, and told us an interesting story about a swan couple who allowed him to feed their babies many years back. Our walk out of the park brought us to the end of a busker show; a comedic man on a unicycle juggling large knives. Since we were right in front of the big mall where the famine exhibition was taking place, we decided to go check it out. It was quite depressing, but we didn't exactly expect it to be cheery. Aidan had done his own thing again that day, and we all met up again at the hotel to figure out dinner plans. Jeff and I thought our last night in Ireland deserved a goodbye drink. So, we headed to a nearby pub. Jeff had yet another Irish beer, and I tried Jameson Irish whiskey this time; Aidan had his usual sample from my glass, not wanting a full alcoholic drink to himself. The only time he ever ordered something with alcohol in it during our trip, we pleasantly make fun of him because it was an expensive Pina Colada which looked completely out of place. On our last evening, we started off at the bar of the pub, and ended up in a private booth for our food while live music was playing. The band really interacted with everyone present and eventually encouraged us to participate in the making of the music. The members even taught the growing crowd how to play a couple of instruments, and we all clapped to the lively tunes we practiced together. I don't usually go out to pubs, or drink that much for that matter, but was really enjoying the ambiance. I felt alive in Ireland, feeling cheery the majority of the time and having the energy to stay up late. We all, had a good craic, as they say over there to mean having a good time. All good things must come to an end, as they say. After an amazing vacation in Ireland, it was eventually time to go back home. The weather had been perfect, and I really wasn't looking forward to coming back home to a furnace. But, I obviously could not stay in Ireland forever. So, on the Thursday morning of July 18, 2019 we said bye to Ireland and flew back to Montreal where we had to adjust to the time difference once more. Luckily, we still had three days left before having to go back to work.

Chantal Bellehumeur is a Canadian author born in 1981. She has several published novels of various genres as well as numerous short stories, poems and articles featured in compilation books, magazine, plus a local newspaper.

For a complete list of publications, including free reads, visit the following website: author-chantal-bellehumeur.webnode.com/products

The Bluebells and the Ogre

Submitted by Poppy Flynn

Written by Jessica Age 11

Gwyn, the penguin, Artie the arctic fox, and Polo, the polar bear looked at each other in horror. They were trapped! Each one of them was swinging from a tree in a basket. They had been caught. Below them the bluebell heads swayed softly in the breeze, an unusual thing in the northern, wonderland. But even more scary was the huge, warty nosed ogre who was bellowing with anger and threatening to eat them. How were they going to get out of this? It had all started innocently. They had only just met while they were out walking. In the far reaches of the north, beyond civilization, the feeble winter sun glinted off of the icy banks of snow. The year round winter wonderland stretched out as far as the eye could see in every direction like a never ending blanket of white upon white. The only thing that broke the bleak snow scape was where snow met sea. Navy against white with chunks of ice floating on the freezing, glacial waters. Everything looked barren and uninviting, but there was life here if you knew where to look. “Hello, I’m Gwyn, who are you?” questioned the penguin “Hi, I’m Polo, I haven’t seen you around here before,” the polar bear stated as he strolled through the snow. “I’m new here, I came to explore,” replied penguin. Just then an arctic fox interrupted “Excuse me your standing on my tail.” “Oh I’m ever so sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Apologised the polar bear, “That’s ok, I know I blend well with the snow, I’m Artie,” said the fox as he shook his tail, The penguin looked at the pair and asked “do any of you know where the bluebell field is? I hear it’s the most beautiful place around.” “I’m just on my way there now, you’re welcome to join me?” answered the polar bear, “Can I come along too?” asked the fox shyly, “Of course, everyone is welcome,” smiled the polar bear. Far beyond the glimmering ice caps and giant glaciers was a forest. From a distance the forest looks icy and eerie, but when inside this dense and leafy snow covered canopy, when the sun is at its highest, the forest glitters like a shimmering disco ball. It lights up the whole forest, the snow reflecting the shimmering disco lights like a light through a diamond, spilling its light in every direction making rainbow colours filter between the trees. The flowers here are all white; roses, lilies and snow drops.

But in one far, quiet area of the forest was a sea of bluebells popping out of the soft blanket of snow. Three unlikely pals. Gwyn the penguin waddled along, looking smart like he is wearing a suit. Artie the Arctic fox who strolled along silently with the gentlest touch, his sleek white coat fitting him perfectly, his small beady eyes, like small lumps of coal, alert and watching all around. Polo the Polar bear with his large body and low voice seemed scary and unapproachable at first but he was just like a giant teddy bear, cuddly and fluffy and fun with eyes so big and shiny you can see your reflection in them. The three new friends laughed and messed about as they continued their journey. They were going to have the best adventure. They discovered the bluebell wood. It was amazing, a sea of bright blue colour in the middle of all the white. And it smelled wonderful too. Gwyn, Artie and Polo ran around laughing and playing. They jumped and rolled about in the flowers having the best time. That was when it happened! First the ground shook. Then the leaves on the trees trembled. And suddenly there was a giant roaring sound. Finally, they saw the most scary sight they had ever seen in their lives. It was… a huge, warty nosed ogre. And he was mad!

“You have destroyed my flowers,” he yelled in his gravelly, growly voice which blew over them like the wind.

Before they knew it, he had captured them, stuffed them in a cage, and hung them from a tree. The three animals looked around in fright. But they saw that the ogre was right, the beautiful flowers where flat and crushed. What had they done? “We are so sorry. We didn’t mean to damage the flowers, they were just so pretty, we wanted to play in them.”

The ogre growled and showed his yellow teeth. The fox, the penguin and the polar bear trembled with fright.

“Please don’t eat us. Give us a chance to fix this.”

The ogre laughed and it was like an earthquake. “I’m a vegetarian, but I will set you free as long as you help me restore all of the bluebells”

The new friends all agreed, they worked hard together and worked their fingers to the bone to help get the bluebells back to their original selves, after all the hard work and effort they have put in the friends realised how much work it takes to look after this beautiful place and decided they would be more appreciative and careful where they play in the future.

The Long Drive

by Penny Luker

Harry Blaze made his way up the long driveway, noticing the borders needed attention and roses needed pruning. He’d learned his gardening skills in prison, but had decided that if he was going to turn his life around he needed to go straight. Just before he left prison he’d been offered an interview for a gardening post at this beautiful, if intimidating, grand house. He rang the doorbell. An old style manservant with greyish skin and wrinkles that would have done a prune proud, answered the door. ‘You’re expected, Sir. Please come in. I’m Barnaby. Have been with Lady Joyce for forty years.’ Harry was shown into a large sitting room with high ceilings and faded, worn furniture. ‘Mr Blaze, M’Lady.’ ‘Would you bring us some coffee and biscuits, Barnaby? Thank you.’ Harry shuffled awkwardly. He’d never been in a house so stately. ‘Oh do sit down my boy. Now, I understand you’ve been away and during your time have trained as a gardener. Your reference says that you have a natural talent. I used to be the same you know. ’ Harry’s eyes scanned the room, nervously. He so wanted this job; to turn his life around and not return to prison, but his eyes rested on the photographs set out in rows and there was a picture of his mother. What an earth was that about? Lady Joyce was speaking, ‘I can see you’re admiring the photo frames. Yes they are silver and you need to know I know exactly how many there are. Seventeen, and if any go missing you will be out of here quicker than you know.’ Harry looked at her with resignation and then back to the picture, he was sure was his mother. ‘I can only count sixteen and anyway, you contacted me to offer me a job. I thought you were giving me a real chance.’ He stood up. ‘I was obviously wrong. You just want someone as a whipping boy.’ ‘Oh do sit down, Harry. I know you want the job.’ He was about to sit down, when Barnaby tottered in with the coffee. Harry took the heavy tray and placed it on the table. Barnaby shuffled out of the room but Harry knew the footsteps stopped outside the door.

‘Let me tell you about the job,’ said Lady Joyce. ‘You’ll be completely in charge of the garden. It will be up to you to bring it back to it’s former glory. It needs a lot of work, but you’ll be paid well and there’s a flat over the garage you can have for free.’ ‘That all sounds good.’ ‘And you can come and eat with me in the evenings and keep me company.’ ‘That seems a bit odd, if you don’t mind my saying so. Do you eat with Barnaby too?’ ‘Of course not, he’s my employee.’

Harry grimaced, ‘So am I.’ ‘Oh dear,’ said Lady Joyce, ‘I was hoping to have a bit of time to get to know you before we came to this point. I suppose I’d better explain.’ She paused. ‘How do I put this nicely? I can’t. I had a daughter –your mother. The thing is I have no heir to pass this place on to, except you. I’m sorry to say your mother had no morals. She hooked up with a most unsuitable man. A member of the lower class, no less.’ she whispered. ‘Well I couldn’t have the family name brought into disrepute, so I kicked her out. Harsh I know but they were different times back then. That’s why you ended up in an orphanage. I couldn’t bring her child back here. What would people have said?’ Harry thought about his childhood. Lots of noise and people around, but no-one of his own. ‘She was never designed to be a good mother, you know and your father skedaddled,’ said Lady Joyce. ‘Did you know she came to see me in prison before she died? She knew she hadn’t got long and it had taken her months to find me. She cried and apologised for letting me down, but told me I could still make a good life for myself and that’s what I’ll do. She told me all about how she fell in love with my father. They were childhood sweethearts,’ said Harry. ‘Well, it’s all in the past now. I’m trying to make amends. I’m offering you a chance to get back on your feet and become part of the family.’ Harry felt both sadness and anger that this woman had ruined his mother’s life and damaged his. ‘I don’t think so, Lady Joyce. I only met my mother for an hour, but I could tell she was warm hearted and kind. I don’t think I want to be part of your family,’ said Harry, knowing that his chances of getting another such perfect job offer was now next to zero. With that he took his phone out, walked over to the pictures and snapped any photographs that had his mother in.

‘There’s still sixteen frames,’ he said as he strode over and opened the door. Barnaby stood back to let him out. As Barnaby followed him to the front door he said, ‘Your father is my son. ‘He’s a good man. Lives in the village.’ ‘Why did he desert my mother in her hour of need?’ Harry asked. ‘He was serving in the army, abroad. He didn’t know about you until recently. Come and meet him. I’m sure you’ll like him.’ Harry smiled. He might have some family after all. He gave Barnaby his arm and they walked slowly, away from the imposing house, along the extensive drive, together.

Penny Luker is a writer and artist from Cheshire. She writes novels, short stories and poetry for adults, and also writes children’s stories. You can find her work at www.pennyluker.wordpress.com or author.to/PennyLuker