Growing up in Cork in the fifties and sixties I was always aware of a certain privilege attached to the name Dwyer.
When introduced to someone new there was always that little flicker of the eyes and the question “Are you related to….”
In the fifties I enjoyed this, even basked a little in the reflected glory.
It must have been, I often think, the main reason why I, a particularly wimpish child, was never bullied in school.
In the sixties, of course, as a revolting teenager, I forswore such reflected glory.
How could a child of the revolution possibly claim status from being descended from one of Corks Merchant Princes?
My family in fact were just that.

Between 1820 and 1980, they were one of the largest employers in Cork, they ran a dynastic empire from an enormous base which took up a major piece of Washington Street in Cork.

Calling Card/Blotter found by my Waterford friend Tom Power in his aunts old shop

They had founded and ran a stable of successful manufacturing businesses ; Sunbeam Wolsey, Seafield Gentex, Perdix Shirts and Knitwear, Templemichael Mills, The Lee Boot Factory, Hanover Shoes.
They employed thousands of Cork people for 160 years, there was hardly a household in Cork without a member who hadn’t worked for the Dwyers at one time or another.

However this all came to an end in the eighties.

Due to various causes, an over virile great grandfather, who produced three separate families and the failure of the remaining members to modernise and embrace a whole different attitude to trade, the business closed in the nineteen eighties.

I remember when I moved to Waterford in the early Eighties my new boss, George Gossip of Ballinakill House, coming to me one day and saying “My aunt tells me you are one of “The Dwyers of Cork” would you ever tell me what that means.”

The truth of the matter is of course that our fame was a strictly local phenomenon and outside Cork, other than in those families whose shops were provisioned by Dwyers, little was known about us.

About four years ago, spurred on mainly by my brother Ted, we decided that, for the sake of the generations to come, we should try to put together the story of our remarkable family and their rise and decline in Cork.
We were lucky to persuade the brilliant Mary Leland to write this for us.

At last the book is ready for publication, is with the printers, and will be officially launched in November-in time for Christmas!
(And I think I have persuaded RTE's Nationwide to cover the launch)

Amazon have agreed to handle it for us so if anyone is interested in purchase I will keep you informed as soon as it is cold from the press.

Many of you may have blinked and so missed my brief appearance on Nationwide in September.
I was the man with the umbrella on the walking tour (which happens towards the end of the programme)
Thanks to the RTE archives you can even replay it here

If you have sufficient patience, I even briefly speak at the closing moments !

Good write up of Caligula which is on in The Project for the Dublin Theatre Festival in today's Guardian.

As Daughter Deirdre did the set design I declare an interest.

Helen Meany
The Guardian,
Monday October 6 2008

"You're being absurd," Emperor Caligula is told, and how could he not be? In Albert Camus' 1930s play, the notorious Roman ruler becomes a mouthpiece for the philosophy of the absurd, demonstrating the meaninglessness of life by embarking on a reign of terror. With relentless logic, he pursues his idea of freedom by tyrannising others, "converting philosophy into corpses".
David Greig's witty translation brings contemporary irony to a play that offers an original perspective on ancient history, while anticipating the extremes of 20th-century dictatorships. Both aspects are evoked in Conor Hanratty's strikingly austere production. Tilly Grimes' costumes have a formality that dispels any toga-and-sandals cliches.
The shining black surfaces of Deirdre Dwyer's abstract set suggest a series of mirrors, framing the pool in which Caligula gazes, unable to see beyond his own reflected image. Will O'Connell convincingly swings from cold rationality to manic spleen. With a dangerous facility for the language of propaganda and spin, he adopts the guise of madness when it suits him.
"We can always find another emperor," one member of his retinue says coolly, but it takes a long time for the conspirators to summon up the courage to get rid of Caligula - they are poets and thinkers, who retain some sympathy with the emperor's ideas. Caligula's assassination is inevitable from the start, yet it seems as if Camus is more interested in elaborating philosophical arguments about freedom and responsibility than in dramatic momentum, and some of the characters are sketchy and emblematic.
Nevertheless, every ounce of theatricality is exploited here. The CHRG company emerged last year from a mentoring programme run by the Rough Magic theatre company, and has established its own style of nihilist chic.

We went on a flying 36 hour visit to Wales over the week end.
The daughter, Deirdre, has started in the Royal College of Music and Drama doing a post graduate course in theatre design and some one had to bring over all her stuff in a car.
We drove through the lashing rain along the M4 from Pembroke having been tossed about the Irish Sea and discovered that door to door to Cardiff from Waterford took about 9 hours.

Deirdre brought us on a flying visit to the college to show us their first project, a huge and brilliant Adam and Eve collage sculpture.
The collage colours for these were provided from discarded billboards, one of the lecturers had a contact in that trade.
(Those of you in my acquaintance who, like me, are not too enamoured with La Ramsey's kitchen posturings would have been delighted to discover what particular part of Eves anatomy Ramsey's bouffant hairstyle was used to portray.)

Sile had spotted that there was a production of Alan bennet's "Enjoy", starring Alison Steadman on in Cardiff on Saturday so, being fans of both Bennett and Steadman we had booked tickets over the phone.
We managed a quick, pleasant and mollusc free dinner in a restaurant which the British sense of humour had called The Slug and Lettuce and then on to Cardiff's New Theatre for a really marvellous night of theatre.
Bennet can be very very funny and also pack in some heavy punches, in this case on how we treat our oldies.
Steadman was at her brilliant best as were the rest of the cast,

particularly Carol Macready as Mrs Cregg,
an impeccible and hilarious cameo.

The play, which was written by Bennett in the eighties well deserves its revival and I am delighted to discover today that it will be in the West End in London in Feburary.
Get to it if you can.

As we left on the road home the following morning Irish ferries texted us that the boat was going to be two hours late (a cause to bless the mobile for once) so we were able to spend a couple of hours (and about €20) visiting the Welsh Botanic Gardens which is just off the M4 at Cross Hands.

This has a huge dome greenhouse and rather too many formal gardens but still we reckoned worth the detour.

Not a weekend I think that I would recommend for either leisure or economy but I do think that we managed to do a good job of milking a work of mercy for our own purposes.

Here are a few plants I photographed in the Botanical Gardens.

This last one being a most delicate Slipper Orchid

I'm delighted to find that Thezan les Beziers, our village in France, has got itself a web page, or is just about to get itself one as it is not finished yet.
This is full of information and great photos of the village and even bits of history.

This picture, from the Thezan Page, is taken from the graveyard in the north which shows the Orb flowing down to the south and the buildings in the centre of the village clearly built into the old walls.
Our house is just out of sight (well, you can see a smidgen of the roof behind the church.)