Is it long since you
picked a sciortán? It must have been
donkey's years since I performed such a specific
operation. Long ago it was quite usual -
maybe it still is but that I am no longer in the
sciortán circle. I no longer go to the
far-away bog footing tough turf and I didn't
turn hay for ages, so maybe that is why I
am no longer acquainted with them small
obstinate little suckers. I suppose they
are still doing their act somewhere - maybe it
is that I myself am no longer as good a menu in
times of plenty. And let me tell you that
sciortáns are no fools. What insect or
animal is? In fact they say that the bold
fox is so cute that he never delegates to anyone
as there is no one cleverer than himself
available.
But coming to
reflect on it, where have all
the fleas also gone to?
When I was a little garsún in
short trousers made by the
tailor from Johnstown it was
rare to see a young fellow's
neck without plenty flea-bites
dotted all over it. Nasty
little things too, that is the
fleas. A relative of mine
who spent a night in Athy years
ago didn't sleep a wink due to a
flea invasion. Isn't it
very strange happenings I am
recalling. Regression!
Or maybe it's my own obsession.
I don't see any fellow
lately with a big purple swollen
sore finger. Whitlows we
called the condition at the
time. They were horrible
old things and quite painful.
I wonder were they caused from
being run-down or
'undernourished' to quote the
modern lingo. Whatever
caused them they were quite
common at the time. I
haven't seen one le fada an lá.
Coming to think of it, in my
father's time the five fingers
were titled: méar mhór,
méar na leiteann ( the one for
stirring the stir-about), peigí
flintí, mary liúití and liúití
beag. In later years they
were called - ordóg, méar
thosaigh, méar fhada, méar an
fháinne and an lúidín. The
oul' fingers are very important
lads!
Another complaint
which seems to be out of fashion
now is the craobhabhar or sty
that pestered the eye region.
A sore old boyo! And
rightly so as it was said that
the three sorest parts of the
body were the eye, the knee and
the elbow (súil, glúine agus
uille). So they said
anyhow, más fíor bréag!
The chin-cough was another
common malady in my youth with
lads barking all over the place.
It is now called 'whooping
cough' and I have never heard it
in recent times since the custom
of inoculation against it was
introduced. But it was not
being prevented then and the
disease was quite common.
It lasted for quite a while too
and was very annoying.
Oh
dear, things were so different
then - measles, scarlet fever,
mumps, scabies, boils and
diphtheria were amongst the many
illnesses of the day and indeed
the night. At least steps
were taken to prevent small pox
as "cutting the pox" was done on
young people, many of us still
bearing the distinctive scars on
the arm. The generation
before mine seemed to have five
scars; there were four in mine
and it dropped to three or even
two later on. Now there
are none.
In those
far-off days too, visits to or
from the doctor were few and far
between. So few, that
doctor's visits then were linked
to kicking the bucket. And
if the priest was also seen to
visit somebody it was a sure
sign of impending death.
I was told a story about a man
from Ballingeary who went to the
dentist in Macroom to have a few
teeth extracted. All went
well until your man raised an
unexpected shout from him in the
middle of the procedure.
The dentist got a terrible shock
- he thought the pliers had been
swallowed or that some major
problem had arisen. "What
is wrong with you?" he asked
with intrepidation. "I
forgot to eat my dinner" says
your man. So much for
priorities! Our friend was
later seen in a local eating
house doing his best with a big
feed despite his oral condition.
There were all sorts of species
oozing out between his remaining
grinders as you will imagine.
There was an another old man
who went to the doctor
complaining of a terrible pain
in his leg. The doctor
duly examined the affected limb.
"I regret to tell, my good man,
that your pain is due to old
age" he said. "I don't
agree with you at all" says your
man, "my other leg is exactly
the same age and there's nothing
in the world or under the sun
wrong with it." So, there
you go!
There's an
interesting story told of a car
that went off the road as it was
being driven on the Renanirree
side of Béal a'Ghleanna.
It was occupied by four
tourists. It somersaulted
several times and ended up in
the very deep valley down below.
When at last it stopped, the
rattled occupants emerged and ,
would you believe, took
photographs of the incident, or
was it the accident. I
think it was a miracle that no
one was hurt.
On learning
the story of how injury was
avoided an old local man
exclaimed - "They must have
recited their prayers very well
that morning." It was
later rumoured that they never
said a prayer in their lives.
So, there you go again!
We were told that St. Patrick
never visited Ballingeary during
his mission around Ireland.
It was said that he came as far
as Ros Mór, looking westward,
raised his hand in blessing and
exclaimed - "Beannaím uaim siar
sibh."
So now to finish
my rambles and to cheer you up I
will ask you to give me the
longest word in the English
language. The best I can
do is
'antidisestablishmentarianism'.
Maybe you can do better,
although some one said one time
that 'smiles' was the longest
word as there was a mile between
the first letter and the last.
So you may smile away now if you
wish - not alone will you enjoy
it, but it will also help your
health.
Caithimís uaim é
mar scéal!