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I know I need to keep my opinions to myself regarding how he and his wife rear their children. They  didn’t speak to me for seven years. But in this instance, I thought that I was right.

Do I want to revisit why my son didn’t speak to me ? No, not really, but I will if you think I need to. Their firstborn, my granddaughter, was brought home, and I was visiting them in Tipperary with Pepi, to help them out. Sheila ( yes, she is an Ozzy) insisted that Pepi was not to go near her daughter as she thinks dog saliva is dangerous. I think she is barking mad.

Later in the evening my son and daughter-in-law had a huge argument. The door was ajar between the living room and the kitchen so I heard everything. She had found flirty texts on his phone with a female colleague who she knew to be a serial adulterer. This woman had at least three affairs that she knew of. She was told this at their corporate Christmas dinner by one of the other wives.

 

My son was defending himself by saying that as she was the boss’s daughter, he found it difficult to ignore her texts. The subject of his drinking heavily at the weekends and staying out late also came up. And also the fact that he was not pulling his weight around the house with the new baby. The baby started crying. With all the shouting and Pepi went over and started licking her forehead. Before I could get him to stop Sheila came in and witnessed the scene.

All the best

Stay fab

Adele

 

I started making faces, and we played the silly faces game. I am quite proud of my capacity for gurning. Particularly when I give Finn the giggles, as I am better at it than him. He is like the son I wish I had. He has dyslexia and struggles in school; I asked him how he was getting on in class, and he told me that it was ok and that they had been studying European geography. The teacher asked the class if anyone knew anything about Ireland, and he said nothing. I asked why he did not want to tell the class and his teacher that he was born in Ireland and lived here until he was three before moving to America. His answer was, ‘He did not want to brag.’

This was one of the nicest things I have ever heard and I told my son. He said he was glad Finn had not mentioned it as nowadays it was best not to stand out too much. I said that I thought this was codswallop and that I had always taught him to be proud and stand tall, particularly as an Irish man. He said that we would have to agree to disagree., and he would need to end the call as his other phone was ringing. Now, I know I can be a bit deaf at times, but I certainly did not hear any other phone ringing.

 

All the best

Stay fab

Adele

 

I went to a few AA meetings once, when I thought that I had a problem and I began to have lucid drinking dreams. Somebody then told me when I had drinking dreams, I needed to drink as much as I could during the dream which made me smile.

Sorry, just give me a minute, as I want to make another cup of tea. Crikey, that was a close one. I nearly fell over the package I must post to my niece in Australia. It is full of the usual, Tayto, Barry’s tea and Irish sweets. She lives in Melbourne and works for some Ozzy Telecom company but their whole family adore the Tayto. When I babysat her as a child, I told her that Fairy Liquid was made from the souls of fairies when they died. She says she still has PTSD over it.

Thanks for holding on. So, whilst I was boiling the kettle, I was thinking about yesterday, and what may have happened that has me feeling lower than usual today besides the dream. And I remember I had a small disagreement with my son in America when we were chatting on Zoom. He was frustrated with me as convincing me to get another dog was not working. I kept telling him that I was not ready yet. He was all apologies about not being able to come back to Tipperary for Christmas this year as his wife needs gallstone surgery. I told him not to worry and that her health was the most important thing. I said he had some gall, but he didn’t think the joke was funny. My grandson Finn came onto the call with his beautiful bright blue innocent dancing eyes.

 

All the best

Stay fab

Adele

 

Continued

I overanalysed last night’s dream as usual, but suffice it to say it was about being lost. In the last few weeks, this theme has featured in my dreams. I think last night was the third such dream. And I know what you will say: I am not looking after myself properly—not eating well and getting enough exercise—which is why I am lost in my dreams. I lack momentum and direction. I do love the word momentum, perhaps because of Tum at the end. More words should end with the word tum. Mine is too big, my tum, that it, as I ate too much, but my plan to reduce it is gaining momentum ( couldn’t resisttum.)

 

Giving up the gin was all very well and good, but I know I am nowhere near as fit as I could be. During my first yoga class last week, I was aghast at my spare tyres as I viewed them from a pathetic attempt at a downward dog. The fart mid pose did not help and as a result, I will not be going back, even though the lady on my right laughed.

 

In my dream, I was walking through the airport for days, trying to find the correct gate. The exhaustion was real, and everybody kept giving me the wrong directions. Lucid dreams like these leave me waking up with a hangover-type feeling without the joy of having had a drink.

 

All the best

Stay fab

Adele

Here is a short story that I have submitted to some online magazines recently. It is spiritual in nature, so, if this is not your thing, give it a swerve.

 

Pepi

I sit mesmerized by the cherry blossom breeze outside my window. It is a welcome distraction from the looming task at hand. This is a call I do not want to make, and as I consider it, the chest heaviness coupled with the stomach knot begins. Well, here goes.

• Hey, it’s me. Thanks for taking my call today. I had a bad dream last night, and I am feeling a bit down today. I need to self-nurture and journal how I feel on days like today. I wrote a few things down but began to cry, which surprised me.

At times, I think I am doing well and learning how to deal with my feelings, but apparently, not. Some say being too sensitive is a blessing and a curse. It is a blessing to feel my feelings and others’ feelings, but it can also be exhausting. Now I am beginning to think I may be a narcissist for thinking I am an empath. However, another part of me resents this ever-growing psychobabble vernacular which seeks to constantly re-label everything. Others say over-sensitivity can be a superpower but that is just a little bit too positive and hippy-dippy for me.

All the best

Stay fab

Adele

 

 

I always loved the song Summer in Dublin when I was growing up. It was sung by Paul Brady when he was in the band Bagatelle.

One of my favourite lyrics is

• I remember that summer in Dublin and The Liffey as it stank like hell and the young people walking on Grafton Street, everyone looking so well.

Possibly because I do remember the stink of the Liffey in the 1980s, and as Paul sings, it was always followed by the wonder and magic of walking up Grafton Street. And maybe, just maybe catching sight of The Dice Man (see previous blog.)

 

Summer in Dublin by Bagatelle

https://youtu.be/MMhWll_mfGk?si=k-ns8jW8D2pC1o9H

But I had no idea how much he is revered in the music industry and community. His music merges folk and pop. I love the line- We’ll make love to the sound of the ocean. But I cannot help but smile and think of scratchy sea grass and sand getting into bodily crevices, as it can be quite uncomfortable, I believe.

Cher, Tina Turner, Dylan, Mark Knopfler, and Van Morrisson, all played his songs.

Dylan compares him to Leonard Cohen & Lou Reed which is high praise indeed but so well deserved.

Paul Brady Interview

https://m.independent.ie/entertainment/music/paul-brady/31150916.html#

Paul Brady Song The Island NEW LIVE

https://youtu.be/fObsjzJDSwc?si=wXiG4UVxtIdd8X5o

Paul Brady Song The Island OLD LIVE

https://youtu.be/fObsjzJDSwc?si=F13u62q3AVCKfECa

 

All the best

Stay fab

Adele

Next month I am back at Dublin City University facilitating The Music of Poetry Workshop at The Healthy Living Centre. Daragh is my co-facilitator and a brilliant vocalist and lyricist. He has three albums under his belt and will be taking us through the history of music from the 50s and Buddy Holly to today. I am so excited as music is another obsession of mine.

Last year The Art of Poetry was a huge success as all of us found it to be a cathartic experience. I understand it is not for everyone and that people need to be in the right frame of mind to come to a workshop like this. Sharing work is never mandatory and holding a safe space for all our participants is always the priority.

I aim to produce an anthology of our work and write a stage play of our experiences ( It will have humour and pathos), called, The Art of Poetry. One of our students last year farted in the class and aptly named the moment, the fart of poetry, which I will have to add to the script. Just to bring everything back to base humour. Which seems to be an art form I continue to revel in.

 

All the best

Stay fab

Adele

 

I love writing rhymes and children’s stories and I have written a few of late. This came to me as I am sad that the swallows have left where I live to begin their migration to South Africa. The distance is 9500kms and it takes approx 40 days where they can cover almost 200 kms per day.

The Swallow and the Wow, Wow, Wow Lady.

The Swallow

Wow, Wow, Wow cries the lady as I fly swiftly by.

Soaring and swooping. Gliding and dipping. She is sad today and I make her smile.

I can see her tender spirit, as I beguile.

Why is she sad, I must swoop some more.

She cries, Wow, Wow, Wow, as her spirit soars.

And then the tears begin, humble and slow.

As she sits beneath my tree, her head bowed.

I perch on a branch above her head.

And call my friend Robin, from his bed.

She needs his birdsong to lift her light.

And he sings and he sings with all his might.

She raises her head, smiles, and says Wow, Wow, Wow.

Says, my beautiful birds, you have blessed me this moment, now.

 

 

The Wow, Wow, Wow Lady

I was sad as my doggie is at the vet today.

He was not himself; his energy had gone away.

They are caring for him with all their expertise.

 Your beauty and birdsong have given me such ease.

I have shed my tears and worried too much.

You have given me your grace. My spirit you have touched.

I know now that all will be well, the outcome is beyond my control.

You have blessed this moment and blessed my soul.

The Swallow

The next day she had a spring in her step.

And at her feet her beloved pet.

Saying, Wow, Wow, Wow,

As we ruffled our feathers and looked on from the branch bow.

        Wow, Wow, Wow, she cried, as I swooped and she scattered birdseed.

         We all swished and we swooped, having such a wonderful feed.

He is well, no more worries, just his iron was low.

I will feed him more vegetables, now that I know.

By

Adele Leahy

I wrote a poem called Procrastination last week but did not finish it……Only kidding. Here it is.

 

Poem Procrastination

Some say procrastination is a four-syllable word for sloth.

Perhaps it is, let me think about it and I’ll get back to you with my thoughts.

Some say procrastination is self-sabotage in disguise.

Perhaps it is, but let me ponder upon that and surmise.

Some say procrastination is putting off things till tomorrow.

Perhaps it is, and I can get back to you, in the morrow.

Some say procrastination is mind constipation.

Perhaps it is and I need some laxative tea as a libation.

Some say procrastination is a superpower.

Perhaps it is, but I can’t stand the guilt, every hour.

Some say to overcome procrastination I need to set clear goals.

But being so organised obliterates my soul.

Daydreaming and distractions mean I am a last-minute gal.

I regularly disappear down rabbit holes of wonderland.

I cogitate, prevaricate, and consider my options.

With procrastination, I still get to my destination, with a smile and a coffee.

By

Adele Leahy

 

BBC Radio 4 – You’re Dead to Me, Mary Shelley.

https://youtu.be/YhGn_9faEi4?si=TpmAFC_WQBpcKJNs

 

This is a great listen as a historian and comedian both analyse Mary Shelley’s work. Many men at the time refused to believe that a woman had written this great work of fiction. Mary’s mother dies soon after her birth which left Mary with a pervading guilt throughout her life. Her father remarried but Mary did not have an easy relationship with her. From an early age, Mary was exposed to great minds as her father regularly entertained Philosophers, Poets, and radical Politicians.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge when invited around for dinner described the Godwin children as ‘cadaverous with quite a catacombic vibe.

Percy Shelley stole her heart from an early age and rumours abound that they consummated their love on her mother’s grave. Whether this is an urban myth or not it does fire the imagination when you consider her penchant for all things grim and gothic.

Mary’s primary objective in writing Frankenstein was to examine the ethics surrounding technology at the time and to explore society’s attitude towards inclusion.

She suffered numerous tragedies throughout her life. In her early twenties, her beloved half-sister committed suicide. Her firstborn with Percy Shelly was born prematurely and later died. Their next two children passed months apart in 1818.

And just for a bit of silliness. As, after all, what is a day or a blog without taking the opportunity to be silly or to watch someone else being silly? Gene Wilder always does silliness to perfection.

 

Young Frankenstein (1974) Bloopers & Outtakes

 

https://youtu.be/tOjH-yoEJe0?si=ukCZvXZpVV3Fz9eo

 

 

All the best

Stay fab

Adele