Síle with her brothers, sisters and in-laws got together to celebrate Máire’s retirement/birthday in Galway a couple of weeks ago.

The Fabulous Butler Brothers photographed with all four grandparents last week .

I would highly recommend having a friend who is a poet, they are capable of lifting your day like none other.

Viz FaceBook conversation between me and my friend Poet Peter Denman.

I had written that we were departing home to France from Dublin airport on Friday morning.

Peter commented :
-Well, darn it! We were in arrivals just off ourtailwind assisted flight back from the US at 8.45 yesterday! Never mind, looking forward to seeing you both next month.-

Martin :
-Jeez Peter we might have un-met in that strange glass tunnel with the moving walkways, now that would have deserved a poem.-

Peter replied:
You were departing,
We were deplaning,
Us in T2, you in T1.

That is the reason
I am complaining
– Had we met up
It would have been fun.

#1 Grandson paints a duck.

I found a copy of this map of Herault, by Levasseur, in an antique fair in Narbonne last Sunday it is quite fascinating. Thezan is spelled Thesan, Sete is Cette, there are no beaches marked and the Motoeways have yet to come.
The Canal de Midi, however, is still the same.

We went on a different walk today, down by the River Orb, and got some good shots of our three sister villages, Cornheillon, Murviel and Thezan.
And if you look at the picture of Thezan carefully you will, at the extreme left, see the belfry of Pailhes Church (this being another village and therefore a bit,) and if you follow down the line of the roof on the right of the church in Thezan you will come to a house with two grey windows on front. Le Presbytere.

Cornheillon

Murviel

Thezan (and a touch of Pailhes.)

This is the second delivery of wood this year, another four steres. The last four will have lasted us just about two months so that is a half stere a week.
But it has been a very mild winter so we haven’t been burning the wood too fast.

These are all pictures which I purloined from the “Dwyers of Cork” book which Mary Leland wrote about 5 years ago.

This is James Dwyer, the founder, my great great grandfather.
(And not at all unlike the person I face in the mirror each morning)

Walter, my Great Grandfather who had an eye for the ladies and whose three marriages (and consequent three families) proved in the end too much for the family firm to support.

His son Billy, my Great Uncle who made good his escape from the family firm to found Sunbeam Wolsey, probably the best known of the Dwyer Factories.

Some Dwyer and Co. workers having a day out in 1931.
(one hopes that carrying the banner was optional)

My mothers official engagement portrait in 1938

The family home, Tree Tops in 1950, ten years after it was built.
(It was bulldozed last year)

The Seven Dwyers in about 1953
(I am the little blond runt, clutching himself, at the end of the line.)

Many years ago when we went first to Waterford we rented a house from an old schoolfriend of my brothers. There, one night when I was out working in Ballinakill House, Síle answered a knock on the door. “Is the Boss in ?” “No ” says Síle ” What do you want him for” ” I want the boss to castrate a dunky for me” she was told. After looking with horror at the man it clicked with Síle, the actual owner of the house, who had lived there until recently, was a vet and castrating donkeys was part of his trade, it wasn’t a case that her husband was out moonlighting with his filleting knife.

Today in my house here in France I had a telephone call from a Frenchman who told me that he was looking for something but I couldn’t understand fully. I asked him to repeat his request slowly please. The Monsieur then slowly explained to me in French that he wanted to make his confession. I was alarmed for a moment that it might be one of “those” calls until the penny dropped. “Ah Non Monsieur ” I explained, “we are no longer a presbytery like that , but a Chambre d’Hote, the last priest left over 20 years ago” We both laughted , relieved that he hadn’t launched into his sins before finding out his mistake.