Thursday, December 31, 2020

Bilateral Swiss/Talbot´s Inch Virtual Wellie Event

So if you don´t already know the Castlecomer New Year´s Day Wellie Race which would have been it´s 41st Wellie Race morphed into the Castlecomer and Global Virtual Wellie event.  https://www.wellierace.com/index.php/virtual-event

Yes, due to Covid restrictions, the boys in Powley Vale allowed a special dispensation for the Covid year that´s in it.   And even more dispensations were dispensed:  Participants were allowed to do their wellie-ing any time we wanted to, day or night between December 26th 2020 - January 7th 2021. 

 Wo hooo is life good for wellie aficiandos or what these days!.

 And so it came to be that: 

The Bilateral  Moos, St. Gallen, Switzerland/ Talbot´s Inch, Kilkenny Virtual Wellie Event 

Took place on the 30th of December 2020.

First the Swiss side. 

Well the Swiss Wellie Race up the Alps morphed into the Kretz-Broggy Bubble Virtual Wellie Event.

The day started out  better than good in the Kretz-Broggy bubble on their dairy farm in Moos, St. Gallen.  - Yes a dairy farm in Moos.

 

As Ann, from Clare and her daughters set up the Virtual Wellie Event route, the view was, as you can see, spectacular.


















Indeed so good was the weather that Hildegard, Waltraud and Uli came out to have a look at the goings on..


But do you know what, as is wont to happen in those parts, after Fear an Tí Guido, got Hidegard and her bovine sisters milked and sorted, the weather had turned....

 

 

....Three hours later they had this!








 
At first the members of the Kretz-Broggy Bubble decided to wait it out and hope the weather would ease up.  It didn´t.   It turned woeful!

So hardy folks that they were, the just went out and well ´wellie-evented´ if you will.
 
 
In this case daughters Mary and Martina ran ...

 
                                                                                                                                                                                            Guido and Ann walked the route
After their virtual wellie event, they retired to enjoy a nice warm drink of what ever you are having yourself - in their spanking new kitchen.  The same kitchen was part of the big house renovations that was  Guido and Ann´s Covid lock down project.   As Ireland was baking bread the Kretz-Broggy bubble members were renovating their farmhouse!


Well done Ann, Guido, Mary and Martina for keeping the flag flying and the wellies wobbling! 

And the Talbot´s Inch side of this Bilateral Swiss/Kilkenny Virtual Event....

 Well lads how do you beat that for drama!  But I did have a view.

My virtual wellie event was from Talbot´s Inch Village along the Nore Linear Walk to the Lady Desart Bridge near the library in Kilkenny.  There and back is a full 5k.

 

 

There I am  with the best boot forward at the starting point in Talbot´s Inch.


 


 

 

 Let the views begin!







Half way!

 

No rush can take my time and enjoy the view.




























After a bit of fraternizing with non-wellie event people who are in my bubble, I set of for the remainder of the virtual wellie 5k.



 
 
 
That there on the right is the remains of the bridge that Lady Desart had built in the early 20th century.  It was swept away sadly in the floods of 1947.
 And if you are one of those people in Kilkenny who is saying in the name of God where is that...
Well I am sorry to tell you - you are missing out.  All credit to the powers that be in the Tholsal who had the Nore Linear Walk designed  and built.  It opened in 2009. The Linear Walk goes from the Weir down almost to Green´s Bridge and then you can go over Green´s Bridge and walk on the other side of the river right down to John´s Bridge and beyond all the way down the canal.  A GREAT amenity.  And again all credit to the City Fathers and Mothers who got this sorted. 
 
So get yourself down there and enjoy.  If you chose to bring your dog... PLEASE bring your ´doggy do´ bag too.  And more importantly: If your dog does ´do´.  Do use the bag to clean it up .   But I digress a bit from virtual wellie event-ing.  

Almost home from my virtual wellie event.......


 
 
Back to the starting point some time later... and how much later is my own business!  Virtual Wellie Event done and dusted.... Almost...
 
 
Go home and get a nice warm what ever you are having yourself. 
 
 
Gloat.   
 
 
And then be sure you have completed your donation of some real €€€ to the virtual donation bucket at https://www.wellierace.com/index.php/donate
 
 
For the last 41 years the Castlecomer Wellie Race committee have been giving us the chance to have great fun in our wellies, and with our donations,  they can donate €€€ every year to good causes.  
Don´t let this year be any different! 
 
 
 
 
Happy New Year and stay safe from the Bilateral Swiss/Kilkenny Virtual Wellie Race Team.
  
 








Tuesday, December 8, 2020

My story for Nancy - A life searching for purpose - not found. Sob sob Blog Posting Part IV

Yes, as I said in part III, I  am going on a bit... but its my blog.  And my story!  So my choice.... 

Leaving America 

So, funds for retirement were looking good, but now at 53 any chance of finding a job with passion and meaning before I retired was getting slimmer and slimmer! 

The initial consideration was to return to Ireland, then wham - the Celtic Tiger Economic bubble burst very abruptly in 2008!  Ireland was hit very badly; no chance of work for returning emigrants. It had to be Germany. And a new language to learn. Tough tough tough. Won´t bore you with the über sob sob details. I was focused on that for three years – (Still am, to tell the truth!). Then job hunting.

Two job offers -  On the Same Day!   On the 12th of September 2012.

Both part time which suited my life fine. But both jobs brought me back to school again! One as a teacher of English conversation classes in the local Volkshochschule. (Adult Education Schools.)

An odd situation: While the job was fine, I was talking after all and I like talking!! I did not particularly relish being back in a school; back in school was never a place I wanted to be. Oddly I was good at the work. Really odd in my mind to not enjoy something one is good at. To explain: The students who struggled reminded me of me. That made me sad for them. Conversely, I noted at some very primitive level in my head, that I resented the students who flourished. Complex but there you are!

The second job I got was also because of my English, and yet again in a school! I was offered a position caring for children ages 7 – 12. Two hundred plus of them. This time I was part of a team of ten who cared for the children outside of class time.

The concept was good. While basic German was required of course, my focus was to chat to the children in English, not that they would understand, but their brains would at least ´hear´sounds, words and phrases, in English that would help them in English class later on.

Neither position filled me with passion, but both fine. Particularly the former. And both certainly doable. And I did meet some lovely lovely people in both work situations. Which was vital for me, as I had not found it easy to make friends in Germany.

And importantly, when I was working, I was building up credits for my retirement fund.

Over the course of those years, I applied for several positions in youth care. Alas my German was not good enough. I could accept that.

And that is how it was for me until September 30th 2020 last. The day I stopped working in Germany. I succeeded in my goal formulated some 30 odd years previously: To retire healthy, and with a good pension plan. And that I did. I am grateful. And I will be grateful every day.

                                       ---------------------------------------------

Addendum.

Nancy going back a bit to my wish to have a job and a life with meaning, a no brainer question you will surely ask!

Why did you not do work with young people as a foster parent or in your spare time?

To answer:

When I was 19 and working in the children´s home, I saw first hand the pain for children of not being in a secure home; I decided I would never have children until I was in a position to care for them adequately and for me that meant being with a partner. Many can raise children alone; I knew I did not have the resilience for that.

So around 1990 when in my early 30´s in New York I had no partner, I decided I would investigate fostering children. - One thing I did learn in the children´s home is making babies in one thing, being an adequate parent is another thing entirely. I applied; ´they´ were excited when they saw me coming, I ticked off all the boxes it seems as a potential foster parent.

Then they asked if my parents were alive, and if so where they lived. I said oh yes, both hail and hearty, both still living in Ireland. Both interviewees faces dropped, they looked awkwardly at each other. I could not understand. Embarrassed, they explained: Over the years they have had many problems with single foreign women like me fostering children. When these women parents needed caring, the expectation was that because they were the single female children, they should give up their lives in the US. and go home and care for their parents.

I said nonsense, I had five siblings, we had already agreed our parents needed care, we would we would manage it between us. And beside two of my siblings lived in Ireland.

  One interviewer replied: You don´t know it now, but it will be expected of you, the pressure will be there.

So I said what is the solution?

They looked sheepishly at me and said nothing........

...... Still said nothing.

Finaly I said: Are you telling me to go away and come back with my parents are dead?

That was exactly what they were saying!

When telling others about this incident, I discovered the interviewers were in fact speaking the truth. More than once a single woman told me so. And after that, I discovered, if there are no single female children the plan b) expectation from parents and families could be that homosexual or lesbian offspring in relationships would give up their lives and come home to care for parents. 

In one case a man told me the same parents who threw him out ´for being gay´ several years earlier were expecting him to give up his home his life and his partner in New York to come home and care for them, because he was not married he was ´only messing about´ as he said they told him.

And then why not persue fostering in Germany? After we settled back in and Romeo H. was open to consider fostering; the problem was not my language, but we needed an apartment with a second bedroom. The authorities warned. `Don´t just get any apartment just so you can then foster a child, you need to find a home you can be happy living in with or without a child in your lives´. We could certainly see the sense of that.

We looked. For over eight years. None in our price range. - Remember children or no children I still had the priority of saving as much as I could for retirement.

And guess what: Now we cannot foster – because we do no fit the age requirements!

Oh another route I checked out was to work as in the ` Big Brother/Big Sister´ organization in N.Y.C. There I applied to volunteer with almost as soon as I was legal in N.Y.C. But when I was at the interview, they explained they did not need ´big sisters´, only ´big brothers´. They had all the female volunteers they needed, but because of equal rights laws, they could not advertise for big brothers only.

Moral?

There is no moral that I can see; I started out life with ´normal´expectations: find a job that I would love that would be meaningful for me, get married have children and live reasonably happy ever after. I put a LOT of effort into those ´normal´goals, more than many I would say. It did not happen for me. I don´t know why.

Considering how my life panned out, I believe I made the right decision FOR ME, to give up trying at age 36 to find a job with meaning and from then to change my life goal to planning for retiring healthy and with funds. - Not in my mind a ´TV. show inspiring´ goal. - And a goal that takes 65 years plus years of one´s life to reach. IF one should be so lucky to reach the goal and that age at all.

But it was practical. I have seen it happen in life for others who made a different choice. Indeed three people I know personally who choose passion over retirement planning are struggling. All three concede the work came but the money did not. All three in their early 60´s do not see an option to retire as they ´cannot afford it´.

                          -------------------------------------------------------------

Nancy, I was going to stop writing this letter to you about 15 pages back! Too depressing. And for what reason does it need to be written?

But then I thought in a weird way it is an homage to you:

I have such respect that you give so much of your life, time and self to the great work you do. Your passion I know; for it is clear to see how much meaning it gives you to support women on their journey to finding meaning and purpose in their lives.

But I wrote to you in May that I would write my story. - As a sort of acknowledgment of the huge efforts you put in for us on the Nancy Zoom round tables. And so I did. So here you are! 

(To find out who this wonderful Nancy is and why I am bothering to write her all this stuff, go back to the begining paragraphs of sob sob blog posting I on November 11th last.)

That said, this document is a bit one dimensional; the aim is after all to write about my efforts to find work that had meaning for me. There were and are many other meaningful things going on in my life. 

Sure, I struggled to find purpose in my work and it did not happen. But I had and have a good fun life; I experience love, joy and acceptance from my husband and from more wonderful friends than a person has a right to, and indeed some wonderful cousins too. 

Importantly I remain healthy, so if I live prudently, not face too many ´rainy day events´ – and am lucky enough to remain healthy, I have secure funding for my life.

And I have adventures! And when there are no adventures to be had… I make them for myself! Always with a cup of tea in my hand!

Hausfrau Rósín. 

A life searching for purpose - not found.   Part IV and the final posting. 

 (THANK God says you!)


December 12th 2020                                       Day 69 of living the dream.




Monday, November 30, 2020

My story for Nancy - A life searching for purpose - not found. Sob sob Blog Posting Part III

.... A life searching for purpose - not found. Sob Sob Blog Posting Part III.  Yes, I KNOW I am going on a bit... but its my blog.  And my story!  So my choice.... 

But do not dread -  This installment has the heading.....

No job with passion, but life starts to looking up!

I LOVED America. I had told everyone in Ireland I had a job as a nanny lined up for six months. In truth that job fell through about four days before I arrived in the US. All I had was a bed with an acquaintance for three nights.

But from the moment I decided to go to the US. I was determined to be positive. And it worked. Wonderfully.

Though the Irish network I got a three month stint living-in caring for a wonderful lady who broke both her arms; she was my Jewish Mama until the day she died two years ago. (Every one in the world should find themselves a Jewish Mama - the love is so unconditional!!)

The savings set me up to stay in a hostel and look for part-time work. I found a position as a receptionist in a computer programming firm over the Easter weekend of 1987. (- As an undocumented you ask surprised! Nobody asked, I was white, English was my mother tongue and everyone loved my ´cute´ Irish accent. I opine, that my being female with the cute accent helped too.

The job was a breeze; all these gentle computer nerds could not communicate outside of computer speak, but I could talk to everyone. They loved it, the clients loved it. And I loved it. While I cannot say the job was one of passion for me, it was tra la tra la all the way. That was until six months later; Monday October 19th, 1987 to be precise. Black Monday when the world stock markets plunged.

Things changed. Far less money, far more was expected of me. I was making mistakes. - I don´t work well under pressure. I decided to hand in my notice before I made a mistake I could not get sorted out before it was discovered. But now in the spring of 1988, being undocumented was an issue, I knew I would not find another job, I would simply return to Ireland.

A big break; in early summer 1988, two weeks before I had finish working out my notice in the computer company, I got the letter. The one telling me I had won a US. Government lottery for a green card. Oh joy. Oh joy. Oh joy! It was beautiful. A lawyer said that I should give up work immediately, but don´t leave the U.S. until I was called with an appointment for an interview at the US. Embassy in Ireland. Perfect.

The money I had saved to return to Ireland I used to join a four week tour cycling from Seattle to San Francisco… Wow I was having fun. And only a month earlier my prospects looked SO much bleaker!

The week in late August 1988 that I returned from my cycling adventure I got the appointment for the US. Embassy in Ireland for January 1989. Great. I sublet my room in my apartment in New York, I headed to Ireland – and then for fun headed to England to work. I stayed with a former co-tenant in New York, and got a temp job working for six weeks in the consumer rights department of Her Majesty´s Civil Service.

(A total aside: That six weeks were great fun. My job was sending out brochures about consumer rights to people buying cars. It was truly a fun time. My two fellow envelope stuffers were most interesting characters; one Blondel a Jamaican had a daughter who was the nanny for the children of a very famous film star in the U.S. The other man was a professional actor – on a quite period as they say. He was well known too, my brother knew his name immediately as a character in the long running Dr. Who TV. programme. They both had stories to share!

At weekends I visited all the wonderful museums and art galleries in London. I packed a lot of new experiences and fun into that six weeks stint.)


Home to Ireland for Christmas the interview in the U.S. Embassy in January and back to the U.S. with the coveted Green card in February 1989.

...And Up..

Economic times in the U.S. were still hard after Black Monday in 1987. So getting a nice happy receptionist job in 1989, was not going to happen. Again through the Irish networks I got various jobs in tele-sales, house cleaning and at-home elder care.


Two apartment moves later, thanks to my new roommate, Liz, I was offered a ´great little number´. Caring, nights, for a lady, in her own home. She lived on Washington Square Park in N.Y.C. She was a sweet gentle soul, who loved MacGyver! While not a job that was for me one of passion, it gave me time to ´get settled into life´. I enjoyed working in the center of N.Y.C. I loved having my bagel and egg sandwich in Washington Square Park at 10.00 am. knowing my day´s work was finished.

I had time and energy to apply to go to college. A liberal arts ass. degree in a local community college.

A poignant occurrence there: Even with 1,500 students in the college, after three months they picked up on me – because of how I answered questions on my application form. They opined I may have ´learning difficulties´ They suggested they test me. The were right. I was shocked, saddened and delighted all at once.

Delighted: Because now I understood I did not excel at studies not because I was lazy. Being lazy in our family was such a no no. - I had been given the message as a child, that if I had only worked a little harder, and ´applied myself´I would have done fine with exams. But now I understood that was not the case.

Shocked: How was it missed at school, when this college after three months and with 1,500 students picked up on me? They opined at the college, that my English language skills were very strong, additionally I was very out-going. So I did not fit ´the picture´of someone with learning difficulties. In addition to that, because I worked VERY VERY hard, I had dragged myself up from an average F. grade up to a D. grade so that I was not red-flagged.

Saddened: More than anything, I was sad. Very very sad. Depressed even, for some three hard days. Was I the only child in the whole world who would have done better in life had I not worked so hard at school! That did depress me. So much. To think if I had just worked ´normal´ I would have been red-flagged and I may have got the supports I would have needed to succeed.

Those three days were to a tipping point in my life: Either I could cop out and blame the world that at 37 I now knew I had a learning difficulty that prevented me from excelling academically. I knew already I was not strong enough to take on a trade, and not calm and cool enough in an emergency to be a police officer or work in radio, or other career considerations I had had over the years. At 37 I realized I had no ´bankable´talents.

So I could either sink in the hole of that misery and self pity. Or I could just get on with it. I chose the latter.

Not for any noble reasons; sure, the former might have been an easier option, but it would have been no fun! So boring!

The testers in La Guardia Community College said, I could achieve a lot academically, only focus on subjects I liked. AND TO TAKE MY TIME. I needed time to absorb what I needed to learn. And like wise I needed more time to do exams, which was arranged for me. They were right.

I did my four year degree – in 11 years! And I got straight A´s the whole way. If school was horrible college was SUPER! I even won scholarships and what not! My years in La Guardia Community College were I did my Ass. Degree and John Jay College where I did a degree in Criminal Deviation, were some of the happiest years of my life to date.

Career hopes were gone, but life was looking better and better.

I was head hunted. To be a house keeper. A joke I thought… I do not enjoy cleaning houses. And certainly not full time. How soul destroying it would be. I turned down the position. A very wise and usually gentle nun I knew was furious with me; she said ´no matter what – if one is ever offered an interview on a silver platter ATTEND THE INTERVIEW. Even if it is to say thank you but no thank you.´

I attended the interview. The interviewer seemed to be very interested in me even though I told her I was not a good housekeeper. I said thank you but no thank you. She asked me to consider the position for the rest of the week. Politely I said I would.

I did not have to. The adult children of the lady I was caring for advised me that night they had made other plans for their mother. I was given three days notice.

Very casually I called the interviewer for the housekeeing job and explained: `OK. So somebody wants to hire me as a housekeeper, even though you all know I am no good at housekeeping; if that is clear and understood, I will give it a try.´ So I ended up accepting the housekeeping job that I had initially rejected - work which I had no interest in doing. Out of desperation. And it was just great! -

It was the Best Non-Career Career move of my life!

And I regret to inform you Nancy, I cannot tell you a thing about it; I signed a confidentiality agreement, which I respect to this this day. Suffice it to say; the employers were looking for a person who cleaned floors and bathrooms and who did other ´housekeeperly´ duties. But the employers wanted in addition, a housekeeper who was honest, discreet, a good communicator, sociable – but not too sociable, who spoke well on the phone and could take and give messages accurately, competent at arranging flowers and the dinning table for formal parties, manage a wine, art and furnishings inventory, do basic computer maintenance. And so on.

And there was a lot of waiting around; for plumbers, for deliveries for what ever. I just loved that, all that waiting around to do ´my stuff´ - and getting paid for it! Another plus, the owners were in town more often than expected; more people were needed to keep the apartment up to the standard that was expected. And my co-workers were EXCELLENT housekeepers, none of whom cared to sit around waiting. So in the end I got ´all the talking to people and waiting around jobs´and they did the real work of housekeeping. A true win win for everyone!

(Another fun aside: Our superiors were very happy with the state of affairs, for which I was given all credit. I would readily tell said persons, that it was not I but the women working with me, who did all that great work. My superiours did not believe me and assumed I was just trying to share the glory so to speak. More brownie points for me, which I loved. For my co-workers who were much more mature in mind than me brownie points were not important. They were getting paid and that was all they cared about! A win win once again for me and my brownie point collection!)

.And it got better!

True the job did not fill me with passion, it was not my life´s calling to wake up each day to count wines, clean bathrooms and wait for air conditioner mechanics. But it was fun a lot of the time – and it was certainly diverse. And I had great co-workers. So life and times were indeed going well.

And it did not stop there: The pay and benefits were good – my tax accountant once told me: If all employees had such work benefits, socialism would never have had to be invented. The pension fund started to grow.

In addition having built up a good financial history and having a steady income, I was eligible to apply some six years later to buy a very nice apartment in a new city government sponsored program Citylights – This was the re-development of the Queens dockland area. This had been a desolate and formerly dangerous area, just one subway stop from Manhattan midtown. And that I did on the advice of the aforementioned tax accountant. A great move for life and for my financial standing.

Time to leave the U.S.

This happy work situation lasted 16 years. For a few reasons it was time to leave for Europe. Not least of which was: without millions (emphases on the ´s´ here!), being old in New York would not be fun in any circumstances, but especially not having family there.  It was time to return to Europe. That I did in 2008 age 53. Now with a German Romeo in tow!

 

Hausfrau Rósín. 

A life searching for purpose - not found.   Part III.


November 30th 2020                          Day 61 of living the dream


Tuesday, November 24, 2020

My story for Nancy - A life searching for purpose - not found. Sob sob Blog Posting Part II

Back to the Beginning – the very beginning….

(Note:  Romeo H´s  autumnal views of Allensbach that you see here have absoloutly nothing to do with this blog posting, it´s just I felt we needed to have a bit of happy what with all this gloom and doom in the blog bla bla.) 

I was born in April 1955. The third of six. I loved where we lived, just outside the town with loads of places to find adventures and let our imaginations roam. School was not fun. NOT because the teachers were not nice, no they were fine, I have absolutely no teacher horror stories to relate. And while girls can in general not be nice to their not-so-coolly dressed peers, I would not say it was bullying by any means. No, school was not fun, because I was not good at school. - I repeated first class, so you can get the idea how things were going to go.

(An aside; as a child, I thought every body struggled in school, I thought that that was simply our lot in life as children. When I left school and did not have to attend daily classes it was such a freeing experience; no matter what happened after that, nothing I did as an adult was ever the same struggle again.)  

 

What did I want to do when I grew up?

I was lucky in this respect, I nearly always had a career goal. At the circus when I was about 4, I decided I was going to be a trapeze artist when I grew up. All that sparkle and magic! This dream stayed for some time. I was about ten when the realization dawned, that there was a lot of hard work to make that sparkle and magic happen. I decided I was not prepared to put in the effort. And besides, I might fall. Nope I was going to pass on the trapeze artist career option.

So for about four years my career choices were in ´floundering mode´. Then at 14 after a small accident I needed treatment in the local orthopedic hospital. It was arranged that I would wait in the Occupational Therapy Dept for my mother to collect me. - The head occupational therapist was a friend of my mother´s.

Well within minutes I loved it. All that craft work and encouraging people to re-learn skills, chatting all day long to people; I was hooked. This was what I wanted to do when I grew up. And I pursued this aim with gusto. Every school holiday I went to the O.T. department and volunteered. I even visited the hospital on Christmas Day on occasion. It was wonderful… And it was my life path. I was set.

The Day of my School Leaving Certificate Exam in Irish

The final year of school in 1973 we were all busy planning and following up on next steps in life. I had applied to the only school in Ireland where one trained as an Occupational Therapist.

In school we were all advised to make more than one application to a college for further studies. So in the course of the school year I had also applied to do Montessori teacher training. Not that I was at all interested in teaching… I wanted away from school environments asap. But I applied because like O.T., the Montessori training school did assessments and interviews rather than choose students on their exam grades. (My grades were not going to be strong; I had taken lower level papers for all subjects.)

So back to applying to O.T. training.

I had gone for a day of testing and assessment. We had to sit tests the like of which I never saw before. (IQ. tests etc, I later discovered. A bad mark on my school that we students had never being introduced to IQ. tests before. Even 50 years ago, they were pretty normal stuff.) I had no idea how I did, because I did not know what they were looking for.

The Leaving Certificate exam time and the lead up to it was very stressful; I was not flourishing. Then on the day I was due to sit the Irish exam in the afternoon, I received the response from the O.T. school in the post at lunch time. I was not accepted. That was a hard hard blow – and then to go that afternoon and sit the exam. I chose not to expound on how I felt that day. Thankfully I passed the Irish exam.

And so it went

Attended Montessori School on parents´ advice. And besides I had no other options. - My parents were adamant that their daughters too would get a qualification in life. A credit to them – only for me it was the wrong decision. I struggled just as much as I did at school. And more I was living a lie and I knew it. Just before the exams I had a nervous break down. Did not do exams. Dropped out. A zombie hanging around house at home all summer. Not fun. For anyone. 

Went to Cork in September 1974 and eventually got a job working as a cleaner in a hospital there. My parents were not impressed, but for me it was a wonderful experience… I was in among tough women, but kindly women. Many saw I did not have the physical strength for the work and they did my share of the cleaning too. Yes the women were kind hearty souls. I think of them with a smile to this day. I enjoyed Cork very much; I found a nice apartment share, met a nice young man: - ) , and socialized with nice people.

After work when in Cork I volunteered in a drop-in center for pre-teen and teenage boys which had been run by a priest, Father Rock, who came from my home town of Kilkenny. Although I knew young children and or school settings were not for me, I got on well with the boys there. I decided this could work for me. Perhaps I could work in a children´s home with older children. (Over the years it emerged the area I worked best in was working with boys and young men from say 12 – 21. And the ´bolder´ they were, the better we got on!)

And so it was that in Sept. 1975, I started a job in St. Bernard´s Group Homes for older children in Co. Tipperary. The plan was to work there on a very small wage for two years, then apply to a child care training course. After the two year course I would then be a professional child care worker and would earn a good wage. Only I was not accepted in the training course either. I was shocked, so too were the nuns with whom I had worked. I applied once more six months later. Still not accepted.  

Some months earlier I had visited a very advanced thinking boys home in England, the Cotswold Community, about which I had read much. At the time they said if I ever wanted to work there, I would have a job. So knowing the Cotswold Community was held in very high esteem by the child care training course that I wanted to attend in Ireland, I thought I would surely be accepted for training after working in the Cotswold Community. So I went for 18 months. Hard work but a very unique experience; I was working with some of the most respected people in the field of child care in Europe.

Came back to Ireland in early summer 1979; assuming I would be called to child care training in September that year, I got a job for fun in a trendy touristy shop in Dublin called the Kilkenny Design Shop. - For the few months as I thought.

 

I was still not called for training, in spite of excellent references, and solid work experience. By now I was old enough to be considered a mature student, so I could now apply a for social work course in Ireland which was geared toward mature students with experience in the field. I applied twice. Refused. Twice.

My few months stint in the Kilkenny Design Shop in Dublin turned into seven years.

A stint in the Kilkenny Design Shop for even up to two years would have been a delight; I learned much about Irish crafts and design. I even won a prize from the Dublin Chamber of Commerce as one of the best sales assistant in Dublin. (I was presented with the prize by John Hume RIP. Even back then the future Noble Peace Laureate was a man who was held in great esteem. I was most honoured to have met the man in person.) But prizes do not pay the rent! My wages were low, no prospects of promotion in the small new company with lots of trained marking and designers already there.

In those seven years working in the Kilkenny Shop, I applied for all sorts of jobs and courses. I did a two year marking course at night; it took me three years! (Don´t ask about the results!)

 


Apart from my own struggles, the economy in Ireland in the 1980s was not good. So in desperation to make something of my life and to find a job with purpose and where I could earn a living wage, in January 1987 aged 31, I left for America. Undocumented.

                                     -------------------------------------------------------------

 

 ... Dear readers, that is about enough drama and dreary for today... I will continue with:  

My story for Nancy - A life searching for purpose - not found. 

Sob sob Blog Posting Part III soon.  But take heart, things do begin to look up; the heading of sob sob blog posting III piece starts....    

...No job with passion, but life started looking up.

 

Hausfrau Rósín. 

A life searching for purpose - not found.   Part II.


November 24th 2020                    Day 55 of living the dream