The Joys of Local Journalism (or How I Discovered I Was Heir to the Throne of Camelot)

Local Man Arthur O'Neill

I mentioned a while back that I’d recently found a new job. Well I haven’t lost it yet, I’m glad to report. It’s up at my local newspaper, where I’ve worked on and off over the years. I love where I live and I love being a journalist so it’s pretty much perfect really. Especially when you get stories like the one I wrote last week; the one where I found out that not only was King Arthur actually an honest-to-god real-life person, but he was from Inishowen!  And there’s more - it turns out there’s even a chance I’m descended from him. You could be too! Seriously folks, the King Arthur.

Let me explain. According to new research by English historian Dane Pestano, Arthurian legend may very well have originated from a historical sixth-century High King of Ireland. Said king being Muircertach MacErca, who ruled from An Grianan and was the great-grandson of Niall of the Nine Hostages. For any of you  not familiar with him, Niall was a legendary Ulster king who was apparently quite the ladies’ man. Genetic studies have found that around 20% of males in the north of Ireland and south-west Scotland carry his Y-chromosome and it’s believed up to six million people in the world today could be descended from him. As I said, he must’ve got around a bit.

An Grianan- the original Camelot?

That means there’s probably a fair chunk of the population round these parts who are related to MacErca too. Until recently not much was known about him, but a few years back Mr Pestano uncovered a lost tale in an old manuscript which led him on his Arthurian adventure. In his short book, Dane explains how the life MacErca, who also ruled from Grianan, almost exactly mirrors that of the man the Welsh and Britons knew as Arthur. Drawing upon both historical record and old folktales, here are just some of the links he identifies:

• MacErca was supposedly the first Christian king of Ireland and ruled at the same time as the mythical Arthur;
• His name can be translated as ‘Arthur’ and his wife’s name mirrors that of Gwenevere when translated into Welsh;
• As a child he was fostered by a driud;
• He conquered Gaul and assumed sovereignty of Britain, The Saxons, Scotland, The Orkneys, and Denmark;
• He was in possession of the Lia Fáil (the Stone of Destiny);
• There was a Merlin-type character, the bishop Cairneach, who guided him in his conquests and who could apparently perform magical feats;
• The idea of Morgan LeFey may also have originated here since there is one folktale which tells of a fairy woman who tried to seduce then murder MacErca;
• Finally, according to legend MacErca succumbed to the symbolic ‘triple death’.

MacErca was also the grandson of Eoghan, whom Inishowen is named after, and he was the uncle of another famous local lad, St Colmcille (aka St Columba), who had the gift of prophecy and was a bit of an Irish Nostradamus.  I think the Glastonbury tourist board are going to have to review their brochures because if MacErca is indeed Arthur then his links to this area are incredible. When I was chatting to Dane on the phone about his work he said that Bettina over at Guarding Grianan Aileach may even have discovered the actual Round Table at the ring fort. How cool is that!

I think by now you lot know how much I love history and folklore, especially anything to do with Grianan, so you can imagine how excited I was about this story. I’m such a geek I was as thrilled working on it as someone else might’ve been if they’d gotten to interview their favourite actor or singer or something. Niall and Arthur are like celebrities to me :) 

 I think everyone at the paper thinks I’m a wee bit loopy for getting so excited about it, but I’m not just saying this - I think it’s the most fun I’ve ever had writing a story.  I even discovered a new favourite word, toppling ‘troglodyte’ from it’s long-held first place spot. It’s ‘Galfridian’, as in ‘pre-Galfridian’ meaning ‘existing before Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote his famous twelfth century work on Arthur’.  Nice, isn’t it? The stories about MacErca are pre-Galfridian.

Dane’s introductory book, ‘King Arthur in Irish Pseudo-Historical Tradition’, is available to download or order here. It’ll soon be on Amazon etc too and I’ll add those links as soon as I get them. He plans to publish a full edition next year so watch this space.

Let the Partying Begin!

Right, so at this very moment, as I type, a large proportion of the people I know are on their way to rock it out at an honest-to-god actual real life festival. The rest are either off sunning it up somewhere, or at least making plans that involve going outside at some point over the weekend. What am I doing? Preparing for my busiest blogging weekend since last Halloween’s madness. And do you know what, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

When they’re all waking up in their stuffy wee tents, on a soggy Donegal beach, with the mother of all hangovers, I’ll be sitting right here sipping tea, fresh as a daisy in my dressing gown and slippers, lapping up all the fairytale delights set to grace the land of blog over the coming days. Before that, however, there are a couple of matters to attend to. The first being my party post for today’s fae gathering!

I had prepared a totally different post for this, to be honest. I’d it all ready to go last night and everything when I had a change of heart literally at the eleventh hour - or to be more precise the twenty third… Anyway, it was late yesterday evening when I decided to abandon my post on fairy fools and other unseelie types for something a bit more light hearted.  This is a party after all, lets leave the darker side of fae till another day.

The result of this, though, is that I haven’t had much time to prepare any sort of a coherent post. Instead I’ve just put together a collection of some of my fairy-esque photos and things which (to the best of my recollection) I haven’t shared here before. Hope you like them!

Finally, all of the above I either dug up from old folders or had already uploaded to Flickr but I sat up late last night making these digital collages especially for the party :) Sorry, the little quotes on them are fairly corny but it was very late and, as I pointed out in my last post, my brain goes into shut down mode when I’m tired.

p.s. I have to go out now but I'll catch up with all the party posts as soon as I get home. Hope you're all enjoying the festivities!

p.p.s. I'm home now and I was just about to set out on my party adventure when I remembered I forgot to post this! You've probably seen it before but I only came across it the other day. Proof, my friends, proof.

The Fairy Folk of Donegal, Part II

 

Finally! I’ve managed to find some time to post these. It’s been a mad sort of a week, albeit a very, very fun one. I would explain, but that’d take too long and I’d probably end up putting these off for yet another ‘day’. (If you haven’t figured it out already, ‘day’ actually means ‘week’ in Donegal dictionaries.) Anyway, so here they are. The fairy stories I promised for my friend Laura about two Donegal days ago. 

They were gathered as part of 1938 The Schools Manuscripts project, when every teacher in Ireland was issued with a booklet in which to record local history and folklore given to them by their pupils. These particular entries were collected from the area surrounding the village of Clonmany, where Laura is from and where the images in this and the last post were taken. You can read more from the Manuscripts here, and you can see more of my photos here. Enjoy! 

 

Excerpt I

One day a woman went out for a can of water. She had a little baby lying in the cradle asleep. When she came in her child was away and another child in its place. Every day when the woman would go out the child would play, play a fiddle. When she would come in the child would be asleep. The woman went to the priest. The priest told her it was a fairy and when she would go home to hold it over the smoke. The woman went home and held it over the smoke. The baby let three cheers and went up the chimney.

Mary McCarron, Cloontagh 21/7/38

 

 

Excerpt II

 

When the fairies had a certain amount of mystical control in lonely or mountainous districts, some of my own ancestors, tried to win their favours by sharing their hospitality with them on certain occasions, e.g. on the occasion of a wedding feast or of a christening feast, a good share of the "Spirit" was left in a vessel outside the house so that the "Wee Folk" could make merry and put "Good Luck" on the subjects of the feast. There is no need to say that the vessel was always empty in the morning, and to explain further would only rob this little story of its flavour.

Winnie Diver, Tiernasligo*

*I’m not sure if this one is from the 1938 manuscripts or not.   

Excerpt III

There is a rock above Cleagh which is called Carna. One day a girl was playing on it and a fairy came out and followed her. A man called Ned was nearby and the fairy said to him, 'catch her for me'. One day a girl was playing on a rock above Straid and she heard beautiful singing. She ran till she was at home. It is said that there is a 'cave' in a field of Mr Bradleys at Cleagh and that the fairies come out every night and sing there. If you go down into this cave you will not get out until you reach Crossconnell as there is an underground passage from it to Crossconnell.

James Bradley, Cleagh, Clonmany 12/5/38

 

Oh, and while were on the subject of fairies, I would like to invite you all to a fae-tastic little shindig taking place the weekend after next. On Friday 24th June, that’s the day before the annual Mad Tea Party,  the lovely Jorgelina is hosting a ‘Day of the Fairies’ fairy gathering. It sounds wonderful, so run along over to her blog to check out the details.

The Fairy Folk of Donegal, Part I

"The Fairies"
by William Allingham (1824-1889)

Up the airy mountain
    Down the rushy glen,
We dare n't go a-hunting,
    For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
    Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
    And white owl's feather.
Down along the rocky shore
    Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
    Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
    Of the black mountain-lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs,
    All night awake.

High on the hill-top
    The old King sits;
He is now so old and gray
    He's nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist
    Columbkill he crosses,
On his stately journeys
    From Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or going up with music,
    On cold starry nights,
To sup with the Queen,
    Of the gay Northern Lights.

They stole little Bridget
    For seven years long;
When she came down again
    Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back
    Between the night and morrow;
They thought she was fast asleep,
    But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
    Deep within the lake,
On a bed of flag leaves,
    Watching till she wake.

By the craggy hill-side,
    Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn trees
    For pleasure here and there.
Is any man so daring
    As dig them up in spite?
He shall find the thornies set
    In his bed at night.

Up the airy mountain
    Down the rushy glen,
We dare n't go a-hunting,
    For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
    Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
    And white owl's feather. 

It’s only dawned on me that I’ve never actually posted that poem before, which is mad considering it’s probably one of the most famous fairy poems ever and it’s by a Donegal man about Donegal fairies!  Granted, Mr Allingham was from the other end of the county but that’s still just down the road really. And sure don’t I know the area well. I even spent a lovely long summer as a teenager down with the fairy king in verse two there. I can tell you, ‘tis an otherworldly place indeed.

Anyhow,  this isn’t actually the post on Donegal fairies I’d intended on.  I still have those folk tales for my friend Laura I said I’d post over a week ago. I did consider tacking them on at the end here but that’d make the post just far too long. Plus I’m lazy. So I’m sorry missus, but I hope it’s ok if I put them off just once more. Tomorrow, I promise! 

Apologies, Promises and Predicting the Irish Weather

 Image source.

 

Sorry folks, I’ve been at it again. Slacking off. I’m getting worse too. All I seem to do these days is crawl back every so often, full of apologies and promises, and a lot of chat about the weather, then slink away into obscurity again only to return a week later with a lot of the same.

So I’m going to try not to do that tonight. Though I suppose that ‘sorry folks’ is a form of apology, and saying I’m not going to go slinking away again does kind of count as a promise. Plus, I am going to talk about the weather! Well I’m Irish, it’s what we do.

As they say in these parts, ’tis a while night out there. Terrible windy. Though that’s not quite the type of weather chat I was on about. I was thinking more of the ‘reading nature to predict a storm’ sort.  In fact, I hadn’t actually intended talking about the weather at all until I sat down to write this. I had meant to post about local fairy tales for the lovely Laura.

Most of you won’t know Laura, she doesn’t have a blog, but I’ve known her in the real world for years and believe me, she’s just brilliant. She lives in England and doesn’t get home much, but I met her at a wedding the other day and she promptly reminded me that she likes to keep up to date with the blog. At least she did when there was stuff to keep up to date with. Sorry missus! (Shit, that was another apology.)

Anyway, as I said, I had planned on hunting down some local fairy stories which I knew she’d appreciate. And I did, I found some from right by the area she’s from. They’ll have to wait for another day though (and that’s another promise) ‘cause on the same site I also found this adorable guide to forecasting the weather from signs in nature.

As far as I can tell, it was written by an Inishowen schoolboy in 1938. It’s a just wee bit hilarious, especially considering the storm that’s blowing out there tonight. And I’m sure it’ll be as helpful in Yorkshire as it is here!

 Weather Signs 

by Liam Grant, Maghermore 17/01/1938

When the moon is pale it is a sign of rain.
When there is a ring around the moon it is a sign of rain.
A coppery or pale sunset is a sign of rain.
A rosy sunset means good weather.
When the stars are very bright it is the sign of a storm.
When the cloud are heavy it is a sign of rain.
When it starts to rain if the hens run to their house it is a sign it is going to fair but if they puck about it is going to be a wet day.
When the mist comes up from the sea it is a sign it is a sign of good weather.
When the mist comes down Meentagh glen it is a sign of rain.
When we hear Binion strand roaring it is a sign of rain.
When we hear Carrickabraghey roaring it is a sign of frost.
When the cow shakes herself in the byre it is a sure sign of rain.
When the smoke blows down the chimney it is a sign of rain.
When the hares comes into the fields it is a sign of a storm.
When there are clouds in the sky like goats hair it a sign of rain.
When the crows are up high in the air and fly straight down to the ground it is a sign of rain.
If you see the rock glistening in the distance hills after a shower it is a sign of rain.
When you hear the rivers sounding very loudly it is a sign of rain.
When you can see the hills very close it is a sign of rain.
When you see the merry dancers in the north it is a sign of storm.
When the hills look far away it is a sign of good weather.
When you see the dogs eating grass it is a sign of rain.
When the sun goes down red it is a sign of good weather.
If there is anybody who see wild geese it is a sign of storm.
If you see cows with their backs to the wind it is a sign of rain.
If you see a blue light in the fire it is a sign of storm.
When you see sheep coming in to the front of the hills it is a sign of storm.
If it starts to rain out of the south and the wind to change to the north it will fair.
When you see the cat sitting with the back to the fire it is a sign of storm.
If the new moon has her horns sticking up it is a sign of good weather.
When the horns are sticking down it is a sign of storm.
If the crain goes up the river it is a sign that there is going to be a flood.
If the floor gets damp in wet weather it is going to be good weather.
If the floor gets damp in good weather it is going to be wet weather.

 

THE END

Read more about the 1938 School Manuscripts here.

A Fairy Tree for Bealtaine

“All around the thorn tree, the little people play; and every one that pass there, they turn their heads away.”

- Count John McCormack, ‘The Bush Beyond Clougheen’.

Hello folks! Just dropping in quickly this evening to let you all know I haven’t given up blogging or anything, I’m actually still struggling to escape that time warp I mentioned last week. You know I seriously believe The End must be fast approaching, what with time speeding up and the fact that I don’t remember the last time the sun wasn’t shining! The rest of the world’s getting blown away and washed out of it, yet there hasn’t been a drop of rain here in around a month. Something’s definitely up. 

Anyway, I’m sure now that’s it’s officially summer the grey clouds will be back with a vengeance soon enough, and once I’m stuck indoors again time will return to it’s normal blog-friendly pace. I know nearly every other person in Ireland would probably hit me for saying this, but I can’t bloody wait. Bring back the gloom, all this pleasantness just isn’t normal!

(Oh, and sorry about my half-assed attempt at a Bealtaine post. My photo of the hawthorn is out of season and everything - it has to be in bloom to be Beltane-y. I did have some lovely shots of a flowering thorn from a couple of days ago but I deleted them from my camera by accident last night. Typical!)

The Fort on the Hollow Hill

High atop the royal hill of Aileach, at the gateway to my own fair Inishowen, sits the fort of An Grianan. It is a place of myth and magic, cutting through the mists of time to transport receptive visitors to an otherworldly age… And to hell with how cheesy that sounds; it’s only cliched ‘cause it’s true, goddamit!

In fact, Grianan is so steeped in legend and history that I’ve been putting off this post ever since I started blogging.  The only reason I’m writing it now is because I said I would the other day. Why so reluctant? Because there’s so bloody much to say about the place! 

How could I describe to you just how utterly amazing it is without telling absolutely everything about it? And how could I do that without boring the arse off everyone bar those with a very particular interest in pre-Celtic Irish monuments?  (Or those from Donegal, who’d probably already know everything I had to say anyway.)

So I’ve decided I’m not going to - describe each myth and chronological event associated with the fort right up to the present day, that is. Besides, there’s already a wonderful website and blog dedicated to doing just that, hosted by a lovely German girl I know named Bettina Linke. Ever since Bettina moved to the area many years ago she’s committed herself to the promotion and protection of An Grianan with unparalleled passion.  With a book on the way, she’s now even set herself to translating Old Irish poetry about the site in her spare time. That’s dedication for you!

Anyhow, instead of getting bogged down in the details, which is what happened each time I sat down to write this post over the past couple of days, I’m just going to run quickly through the facts and move swiftly on to the folk tales. Those of you still interested in finding out more afterwards can then call over and pay Bettina a wee visit.  I’ll try my best to keep this as succinct as possible, though be warned - I do tend to drift when it comes to subjects I care about. Right, let us begin…

More important than Tara- FACT.

To sum it up in a sentence, An Grianan of Aileach is an iron age ringfort, built on the remnants of a much earlier fortification (thought to be up to 5000-years-old, in your face Pyramids!), with the current stone structure undergoing heavy restoration in the nineteenth-century following it’s destruction during a conflict between two Irish chieftains in 1101. Phew! That was a long sentence. But the place does have a long history, and an important one at that.

Indeed, it is my guess that if it wasn’t for its geographical location Grianan would likely be as famous as Newgrange, and undoubtedly more well-known than Tara. For, just like that other royal hill - and that’s all it is these days, a hill, with hardly any visible fort worth talking about - Aileach too was seat to the High Kings of Ireland at various points over the centuries, and for an even longer period served as the centre of power and culture for all Ulster. (And we still have our fort intact.)

It is also interesting to note that while Grianan shares good company with other sites of high mythological and historical regard, such as Emain Macha, in that it is one of only a handful of Irish locations to be marked on Ptolemy’s 4th century map of the world, Tara gets no mention on the famous document. Mmm…

As I said, the reason most of you have probably never heard of it till now is down to where it is. For one it’s relatively far away from the major airports, and secondly it’s also only a few miles from the border with Northern Ireland,  which meant the area was shunned for decades by foreign tourists afraid of getting blown-up. (Kind of silly really considering the chances of getting blown-up in Donegal were so miniscule it was ridiculous.)

Anyway, enough about all that ‘real’ stuff, I want to talk about the stories!  

Built by the king of the fairies, no less.

As I’ve said, it would be easy for me to ramble on and on about the ‘true’ history of Grianan, which in itself is pretty darn interesting,  but it’s always been the myths and legends surrounding the place which have captured my imagination. And there’s certainly no shortage of them.

The word ‘Grianan’ comes from the Irish word for ‘sun’ and one thing that is agreed upon by archaeologists is that the original structure was most likely built by pagan sun worshipers. That’s fair enough, but it’s who these sun worshipers were that’s most intriguing; ask anyone round here and you’ll only get one answer - An Tuatha De Danann. The Children of Danu themselves.

Now I think I know you, my dear blog readers, well enough at this point to assume that most of you are already well acquainted with this mystical race, and their gods and leaders. Many of you will probably also be aware that they were, in fact, the descendents of Ireland’s fairy aristocracy. (Those who aren’t as familiar with this can find a wee bit more about it in my introductory blog post, and then of course there’s always Google.)

Anyway! One of the most famous tales regarding the origins of Grianan states that it was built by no less than Daghda himself, High King of the Tuatha De Danann who later achieved godly status. The story goes that, following their invasion of Ireland in pre-Celtic times, it was at the hill of Aileach that the Tuatha De Danann first made contact with the natives of their new land. They must’ve liked the spot, or it must’ve already been an area of some significance, for when Daghda’s own son, Aeah, was slew in battle it was here that the god king buried him and built the fort to protect the grave.

Other tales also hint that Daghda’s predecessor,  Nuada of the Silver Hand,  may also be interred beneath the mound.  Indeed, it is what is under the fort rather than the stones themselves that hold the deepest magic and mystery.

Take the little portal pictured below for example, one of several in the interior wall. When we were little the gates weren’t there and we used to crawl inside. My mum used to go crazy at us, though claustrophobia usually got the better of me before I ventured far enough to make her really mad. Now that they’ve been sealed off to curious children and I’ve grown much too large, I often wonder what I would’ve discovered if I’d been a little braver.

You see another of the local legends of Grianan, and one which is inextricably tied to Irish fairy mythology in general, tells of an extensive network of tunnels that run from these little holes in the wall deep down into the hill. Within there is believed to be a hollow where a band of Tuatha de Danann horsemen still slumber, waiting for the day when “the sacred sword” is removed and they can awake to reclaim their ancient lands.

A more detailed account of this tale can be found here on Bettina’s blog, though as a child I always heard the Irish nationalist version in which the sword was British rule and those inside would only wake once Ireland was united again. Considering Ireland as a whole entity has for the most part only ever been united while under British rule, you’ll have to forgive me if I declare this to be bollocks. ‘Ireland’ of the past was an island of five provinces, those again divided into kingdoms, and not one unified state in the modern sense. But once again I digress…

As you might imagine from it’s name, An Grianan is also associated with other ancient Irish sun dieties such as Lugh and Gráinne, though I’m not going to talk about them now. A little tale I will relate is one from my dad, who often tells of how after a night out partying in his younger days he and a friend decided to go up to Grianan to watch the sun rise. Now it’s very likely considering the context of the story that what he saw may've been in some way influenced from the previous night’s indulgences, but he swears that from his position atop the stone walls he saw the sun dancing in the sky - looping and diving, jumping forward and falling back. In fact, to this day he finds it hard to describe his experiences of that morning exactly. And I’ve heard others tell similar stories so there must be something in it.

Well my friends, you’ll be happy to hear that I’ve finally exhausted myself and have to decided to wrap this thing up now. God, this was a post and a half! Believe me when I tell you I could’ve written twice as much. Anyway, thanks to anyone who stuck with me to the end and sorry for rambling on so much. I just want Grianan to get the recognition it deserves for being so super amazingly awesome. 

I suppose every little corner of the world hides it’s own treasures, and we all like to defend our own wee plots. What about you folk, do any of you have any little under-appreciated gems nearby? I’d love to hear about them!

A Wet and Windy Weekend

Hello folks! How’re you all this evening then? I’ve just about warmed up again after a weekend off gallivanting ’round the countryside. My god it can rain in this place! We were up at the Causeway Coast for a friend’s hen and seriously, the weather was wild. Would blow the head off ye, as they say round here. Great fun though!

Anyway,  while it didn’t spoil the craic too much, the bone-saturating-sogginess did mean we weren’t able to show off how utterly spectacular a spot it is to any of the English girls who’d come along.  And that the photos I’d planned on taking to show it off to you guys didn’t come out quite so scenic either! Typical, the weather’s beautiful now everyone’s away home again.

Ah well, sure it’ll give me a good excuse to head back some day during the summer; it’s only up the road from me really but my lack of transportation means I’ll have to wait for the tourist buses to start up again. For now these dreary shots will have to do. (Click on each of them for one or two more in Flickr.)
 

The Giant’s Causeway
On a clear day you can actually see both Scotland and Donegal at the same time from here. I’m not going to get into the myth and legend of the place now, if you’re not already familiar with it ask Google. All I’ll say is that it’s a place of many happy memories for me. We used to go up all the time when we were wee and the stones and stories made for hours of fun.

Mussenden Temple
I always thought this place was just a little tourist attraction, built back when the area was one of the most popular tourist destinations in Victorian Britain, but when I looked it up there I found out it’s actually much older. Turns out it was originally a library built as part of a larger estate in the 1700s, the ruins of which you can access quite easily. Usually - when we were up at the weekend the field you have to traipse through to get to it was just too mucky. 

You know, when I was at college I used to get the train that goes through the tunnel directly underneath the temple all the time and that part of the journey was always my favourite. On down the track a little bit the cliffs are lined with waterfalls, so as you travel past you have the crashing Atlantic waves on one side and those on the other. It’s magical. I really must grab my sister’s SLR and head up there some sunny day.

Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge

 What can I say, I’m just a big chicken. A chicken with vertigo, who gets dizzy changing a light bulb. So no, I didn’t cross it. I’ve never crossed it, and probably never will. This time I actually bought the ticket to cross, but on the subsequent walk from the kiosk to the bridge I realised the only reason you had to actually buy the ticket was because The National Trust, who never charge admission fees, obviously must have to pay huge public liability insurance for the site. When I got there I asked the guy if anyone had ever fallen off, and he answered ‘not today’.  You might say that’s just a corny joke but when I pressed him he wouldn’t answer anything else! Hmmm… So no, I didn’t cross it. Pity too, apparently the wee island on the other side is really very pretty. 

Folk Tales and Fairy Art

'Between Two Worlds' by Eimear Brennan 

It’s just occurred to me that I’ve spent three out of my past five posts blogging about how I’ve not been blogging.  Sorry about that - next time just tell me to shut up, go away and come back when I’ve got something better to say.  Anyhow, I hope the treat I have in store for you today will make up for my recent boring transgressions.

You see, my friends, I think I’ve found my new favourite blog. It’s only very new, a wee baby blog really, but I’m already hooked.  The creation of Dublin artist Eimear Brennan, the ever so aptly named Drawn to Fairytales is definitely one for the bookmarks folder. A veritable treasure trove of fantasy art and mythology, Ms Brennan’s site is more than just somewhere to view her wonderful work. It is a little glimpse into Fairyland itself.

With each of picture posted we are brought on a mini-journey through Celtic legend and Otherworldly charm; using folkloric anecdotes and fairy stories recollected from her childhood Eimear conjures up a magical world which we are all invited to visit. Her illustrations (which you can view more of here) tell tales in themselves, but Eimear’s words accompany them so perfectly.

Maybe the reason I’m so enamoured with Eimear’s blog is because she posts about things that really resound with my own interests and experiences, like her tale of visiting holy wells as a child before really understanding their significance (something I’ve been meaning to post about for ages). Or this link to a radio interview with the wonderfully wise Eddie Lenihan she recently shared, which explains the true nature of Irish fairies so well I’m raging I hadn’t come across it before my recent guest post over at The Whimsical Cottage! It really is an absolutely adorable documentary, well well worth a listen. Seriously, fire it on and snuggle down with a hot mug of tea. It’ll be the most enjoyable and informative 40 minutes of your evening.

Before that, though, don’t forget to call over and say hello to Eimear! Oh, and here's just another brief example of the loveliness also awaiting you over her gallery:

A Little Fairy Music

In response to all your requests following my post last week I’ve a couple of pictures of The Dress for you tonight. Before that though I just wanted to share my first proper attempt at digital collage. I was going to call this ‘Ceol na Sidhe’ when I uploaded it to Flickr, but considering most of my contacts on there are neither Irish nor fans of the fae I decided it might be a bit too obscure. If they were all like you folks then it wouldn’t have been a problem :)

I was actually going to save this post for my turn at fairy blogging over at The Whimsical Cottage on Tuesday, but I’m not really that pleased with how the picture turned out. Plus, I was planning on including links to some nice fairy-fit Irish folk music but couldn’t find any good stuff on YouTube or the like. The search made me realise the only way anyone should ever be allowed to listen to Trad music is in a packed pub with a few jars in them. Listening to it sober just reminded me of the boring ceilis I used to go to when I was wee. So instead I’m going to direct you to this lovely little written piece by Lady Wilde on the magical beauty of  the ceol-sidhe.  Hope you like it!

Right, so back to the dress. It’s living over in my mum’s house for now; it’ll probably be a while until it’s worn so it’s better not having it lying around here for Himself to try on when nobody’s home (hey, it’s unlikely but you never do know!).  I only managed to get a brief moment to grab a couple of snaps of it today and the ones I got are a tad dark and blurry. Just take my word for it that it's much more pretty in real life. Hopefully I won’t have to wait too long to get to wear it!

F is for…

Join the fun!

…fabulous fantastical fae fun & frolics! How you all doing today then folks? Sorry, I seem to have broken a new record for blog-neglect recently. And I notice I’m not the only one; my dashboard has been a little sparse recently if you don’t mind me saying so.  All that’s about to change, though, thanks to the ever wonderful Danni over at the Whimsical Cottage who’s throwing the bestest blog party ever. For a whole month!

All February long Danni is going to be pimping out her blog to us fellow fairy lovers, hosting guest bloggers and posting fae-tastic loveliness everyday for the next four weeks. I myself will be joining in, but more about that closer to the time. All you need to know for the moment is that you shouldn’t be here reading this post, you should be over at the Cottage RIGHT NOW joining in the fun. Here’s a link to the first post of the party,  where you can enjoy a little drop of fairy tea no less!

You know, this party is exactly what I need to get back in the blogging grove. Since the new year I’ve not been spending much time online, and when I do log in I find myself hopelessly drawn to that spellbinding entity known as Tumblr. Tis evil, I tells ya! So many pretty pictures, and so bloody convenient.  From here on in I promise to pull my socks up and get back to proper blogging. Shouldn’t be too difficult with all the fae festivities!

p.s. There’s still a few spare dates floating about if you wish to contribute your own guest post to the party. For more details just click on the little link below Danni’s lovely artwork above!

p.p.s Happy St Brigid’s Day/Imbolc, depending on your spiritual persuasion. If I’m honest, my lasting memories of this day are of gathering rushes for school and getting the day off lessons to make crosses. We were like a little sweatshop making those things, as far as I recall!

Not Just A Scary Face

 Image source

 

"THEN Cuchulain went on his way, and Cathbad that had followed him went with him. And presently they came to a ford, and there they saw a young girl thin and white-skinned and having yellow hair, washing and ever washing, and wringing out clothing that was stained crimson red, and she crying and keening all the time. 'Little Hound,' said Cathbad, 'Do you see what it is that young girl is doing? It is your red clothes she is washing, and crying as she washes, because she knows you are going to your death against Maev'e's great army.'"

"Cuchulain of Muirthemne" by Lady Augustus Gregory, 1902

It’s a tale almost every Irish schoolchild will be only too familiar with- the young hound of Cullen and the king’s druid on their way to the most famous battle in Celtic lore, The Cattle Raid of Cooley. Taken from the 2000-year-old Ulster Cycle it’s also the earliest written record of an encounter with that most famous of Ireland’s fairies, the banshee.

I think I’m actually going to go as banshee now, not a vampire. No doubt I’ll change my mind a couple of dozen times again over the next 24 hours, but for the moment banshee it is! I’ll probably just stick to the obvious scary version, because it’s easier, though the aul Bean Sidhe comes in all sorts of guises. The screeching ghostly spectre that most people, myself included, usually associate with her is just one of  many faces.
<--- by Sweetheart Sinner Creations

Her most famous face, certainly. Maybe that’s because her brief appearance in that wonderfully true-to-life movie Darby O’Gill was so memorable (I know it frightened the proverbial out of my wee childhood self).  But it might also be because she’s often confused with the Morrigan, an old raven-feathered deity from Irish mythology who is also associated with death. While the Morrigan accompanies a soul passing over, however, the banshee only alerts the living to the passing of that soul.  She really can’t do you any harm at all, and she isn’t always a vision of terror either.

'Screaming Banshees' by Emily Balivet

Anyway, I’ve bored of searching for costume ideas online so instead tonight I’m going to point you in the direction of a little more Samhain reading, this time from Lady Gregory’s ‘Visions and Beliefs in the West of Ireland’ (1920). Specifically this chapter on banshees and other death warnings,  which provides a more accurate account of the whole phenomenon. Or, if my inane babbling has already bored you of all things screaming and keening, you might enjoy this chapter. It’s packed full of tiny little ghost stories :) 

You know it’s funny; this book hails from an age when it was all the rage in Ireland for intellectuals to troop across the country collecting folk and fairy tales from the lesser classes.  The majority of the practices, traditions and urban legends documented from the period have more or less died out over the subsequent generations, but there are still a lot that endure.  And reading back over them I’ve realised that the ones with the most staying power  seem to be those concerning death and dying.  Ah, but sure isn’t that the nature of the human condition. We’re obsessed with our own mortality. That must be why we love Halloween so much! Well, hope you’re all having a spooktacular start to this seasonal weekend!

All in the head, or a visit from the dead?

When I was little I was obsessed with ghost stories; reading them, hearing them, making them up. My younger sister only recently informed that I did, in fact, scar her at an early age with my tales, both true and imaginary. I had no idea she ever took them seriously, but there you go. Anyway, one of my favourite books back then was True Irish Ghost Stories by St. John D. Seymour and Harry L. Neligan, (1914). I don’t have a copy of it anymore and I’d actually forgotten all about it until I came across it online the other day.  It’s now free from copyright, apparently, and in the public domain.  It really is great reading for the spooky inclined, I’d highly recommended it on a dark October evening.

Once I stumbled upon it myself I abandoned what I was doing and ended up engrossed in it once again. I don’t really like reading at length from a screen, though, so I’ve been coming back to it all week. This afternoon I got to this chapter, ‘Apparitions at or After Death’, which got me thinking about a couple of eerie little tales of my own I’d like to share with you.  Considering this is the time of year when the dead like to come back for a wee visit, I thought they were kinda appropriate.  They're 100% true, too. I’m sure a lot of you out there have had or heard of similar experiences, it seems this type of phenomenon’s really quite common. I'd love to hear about them!

Visitor I

My mother grew up in Lanarkshire in Scotland, but she always had family here in Ireland including a  great-aunt whom she was named after. One night when she was about ten she woke up and her aunt was sitting on the edge of the bed smiling at her. My mum just presumed she’d arrived over for a visit and wanted to come in and say hello. Apparently they proceeded to have a wonderful conversation, after which my mother went back to sleep and dreamt the most vivid dream of her life. It was about a man running down a hill pushing a wheel. Anyway, the next morning she got up and went to the kitchen expecting her aunt to be sitting there.  Instead, she found her family all upset. And when she asked after her aunt’s whereabouts she was told that they’d just got word from Ireland that she had passed away during the night. Confused, she told them about her visit. Her sisters laughed and said it was a dream and that she’d been talking in her sleep all night. It was only when she told her mother about the dream she actually did have that she was taken seriously. You see, at the very same time as her aunt was dying my mother also had a cousin being born in a house just down the hill from her aunt’s in Ireland. The child was coming into the world just as her aunt was leaving it, and for some reason my mother knew all about it over in Scotland.

Visitor II

My fiance has a similar but spookier story. His grandfather, Jack, was the gravedigger for their local parish, and as you’d imagine he had no shortage of tales to tell. This one didn’t happen in the churchyard, though it’s almost creepy as the one that involved coffins moving in the earth. (Don’t ask, it’ll freak you out!) Anyway, one afternoon Jack was sitting at home when there was a knock on his door.  It was a man, not an old one but not young either, and he was there to make arrangements for a burial. The man was quiet but friendly and quite specific about the grave he wanted dug. That was all grand and everything was sorted out so Jack sat himself down to enjoy the rest of his day off. Then, about an hour later, he got a phone call from the local hospital. The person on the other end wanted to organise the burial of a relative. In such a small community it was rare for Jack to have two bookings, as it were, in the one day. He quickly realised, though, that the person on the phone was arranging the same funeral as the man at the door had been and so informed them that everything had already been taken care of. The caller insisted that he must be mistaken, but when Jack described the man at the door he was met by stunned silence from the other end of the line. “That’s impossible,” said the stunned caller, “You’ve just described the deceased man, and he only died 15 minutes ago.” 

A Poem and a Painting

© Matthew Porter

Sorry all’s been quiet on this blogger front recently, I’ve been having connection difficulties yet again. Not to worry, I’m back now! Today I have for you a lovely little poem by Irish antiquary Thomas Crofton Croker. The Brothers Grimm were fans, as far as I hear it, and even translated some the Cork man’s work into German. 

TO THE

DOWAGER LADY CHATTERTON,

CASTLE MAHON.

by Thomas Crofton Croker, 1825

Thee, Lady, would I lead through Fairy-land
(Whence cold and doubting reasoners are exiled),
A land of dreams, with air-built castles piled;
The moonlight shefros there, in merry band
With arful cluricaune, should ready stand
To welcome thee - Imagination's child!
Till on thy ear would burst so sadly wild
The banshee's shriek, who points with wither'd hand
In the dim twilight should the phooka come,
Whose dusky form fades in the sunny light,
That opens clear calm lakes upon thy sight,
Where blessed spirts dwell in endless bloom.
I know thee, Lady - thou wilt not deride
Such Fairy Scenes. - Then onward with thy Guide.

By the way, the painting is by my sister’s fella Poochie. I did a post on him a while back. The thing is, he doesn’t actually know I’m using it ‘cause it’s hanging over in my sister’s room and I sneaked a quick snap of it the other day. I’m sure he won’t mind, though, if I give his Deviant Art account another wee plug. So go check him out!

Bricriu's Feast

Well it’s all over now folks and, the odd embarrassing blog post and sore head aside, I have to say- what a bloody great weekend! Right, so I know I promised photos of the festivities. I’m not going to disappoint, it’s just that nobody said anything about them having to be my photos. You see I wanted to start off with lasts night’s closing event- a retelling of Bricriu’s Feast, an old Celtic myth from the Ulster Cycle- and unfortunately my own images wouldn’t do it justice. 

I’ll get back to telling you about the feast in a minute but first I want to point you in the direction of Robert O’Dowd, the guy responsible for the pictures you see here. This boy really is a photographic genius now in my eyes; if you’d seen how horrible a night it was and just how dull my own and everyone else’s images came out you’d appreciate these shots all the more. I must have taken a hundred and hardly one was usable. (Please, check out his Flickr for more great photos of the event- and of our lovely town!)

So anyway. Sadly the weather was awful; the sky was so heavy with rain you could almost touch it. But we’re used to that kinda thing round here and, apart from a lot of really dreary photographs, it had little effect on the feast itself. Which was AMAZING, by the way. Fairy dancers, giants, warriors, druids, dragons, fire eaters, chariot racing, huge big scary crows, a whole army of bohran players, and some of the most amazing costume design ever. And that was just the opening parade, which marched through the main street of the town where it gathered up us common folk who followed it in procession down to the beach. 

There on the shore greens  they had erected dolmens, turrets, a stage with huge flags emblazoned with Celtic designs that flapped furiously in the wind, and a 14 foot replica of An Grianan of Aileach (which actually was supposed to be Emain Macha for the purposes of the story, but sure isn’t one iron age fort the same as the next). All with the backdrop of beautiful Lough Swilly. It was in this setting that they proceeded to re-enact the entire tale of Bricriu’s Feast.  Accompanied by The Henry Girls (a local traditional group) every one of the actors playing the heroes and heroines of Irish legend did such an excellent job. So lively and fun! I think my favourite bit had to be when all the kids in the audience got into it and started cheering along Cuchulain and booing the baddies.  It was just the best way to end the festival.

If anyone wants to know the story of Bricriu’s Feast you can read a summary of it here, though that could never be near as fun as seeing the whole thing acted out so enthusiastically. You know sometimes I think the Donegal Tourist Board should be paying me because I do like to wax on a bit about its greatness. Well, more festival photos to follow tomorrow. Have a nice evening!

More Creepy but Cool Stuff

Here’s a wonderful little short film that my friend Michael led me to. It’s called The Cat With Hands and it really is great.

Some Home-Grown Fairy Tales

The reason for today’s post is three-fold: I’m using it firstly as an excuse to show off these beautiful paintings by local artist Ros Harvey, secondly to give a little shout out to my newest follower Celtic Lady, and finally for its original purpose which was to share these links to fae tales from fair Inishowen.

All the stories below were taken from a website dedicated to a wee town called Moville, just down the road from me. As far as I know the site’s run by one man. A bit of a modern day Yeats, this fella has gathered up local folk and fairy lore from various sources and included the collection in his history and genealogy of the area. If you have an afternoon free some day, I thoroughly recommend taking some time out to read them. You won’t be disappointed. Oh, and the images by Ms Harvey just happen to be of the area where most of the stories are set.

Well here you go, tales of pesky Sidhe meddling with the lives of us mere mortals:

A Date With Death- One man's warning from the wee folk.

The Fairy Rope- A lucky find for two Buncrana factory girls.

Blind Man’s Buff- It's not hard to find someone in Ireland to spin you a yarn or two about a fool who axed a fairy tree and even now all these years later they still always go something like this.

Fairy Magic Around the Coasts of Inishowen- This one is a gem. It reads like an old pre-Tolkien fantasy and was written in 1867 by a historian named Maghtochair. I’m trying to figure out some way to include it in our wedding whenever we manage to get round to organising it.

Marriage on the Rocks- Another one I’m thinking of working into my wedding, about a man who marries a selkie.

The Tuatha de Danann- Finally, here’s a little something for anyone who liked ‘about the title’. It contains bags more information on Danu and her children, along with other summaries of old Irish legends.

Images © Ros Harvey