Month: February 2021

• 

I was sitting in my car recently outside the Mater Hospital in Cork waiting for my wife. It was a dirty evening, pouring with rain. As I sat there, I noticed a nurse in the foyer pushing an elderly lady in a wheelchair towards the entrance of the hospital where I presumed, she was going to be collected. The woman was wearing a dressing gown which wasn’t ideal for the conditions even if it was waterproof.

A car pulled up beside me and a lady got out and ran to the front door where she was discussing tactics with the others. I could see their dilemma, so I got my umbrella out of the boot and offered to cover the lady in the wheelchair while she got to the car. She thought I was giving it to her, so she took it off me, and stuck me in the eye in the process and I was left standing in the rain.

She got sorted though and she was very grateful. With my good deed done for the day, I returned to the car, blind in one eye and soaked to the skin but the lady was dry and on her way home, so it ended well.

As I sat there, it crossed my mind that with all the technology we have at our disposal in this modern world, there is still an important role for the humble brolly. The Internet can’t protect you from the rain, and there’s no vaccine that will keep you dry so, for now, we rely on the umbrella. That got me wondering about its origin. Where did it come from?

Well, it’s been with us for a while, over 3000 years in fact. The first umbrellas, or parasols, were used by the Egyptians as protection from the sun. They put some leaves together on a stick and, hey presto, they had a parasol. If you look up the meaning of parasol you will discover it’s a light umbrella, designed to give shade from the sun.

There is another definition that describes a parasol as a widely distributed large mushroom with a broad scaly greyish-brown cap and a tall slender stalk. I’m not sure which word came first but I reckon it’s unlikely they had mushrooms in the dry climate of Egypt but maybe they did.

Anyway, the word “umbrella” comes from the Latin word “umbra,” meaning shade or shadow, so, it would seem that the original idea was to provide protection from the heat of the sun, and it was the Chinese who first used the parasol as a way of keeping dry. They waxed the paper covering to make it waterproof. That caught on and the umbrella soon became popular in rainy northern Europe, but it was considered suitable for women only.

I suspect the original designers of the umbrella never imagined that it would have other uses too. John Steed, played by Patrick Macnee of The Avengers, never went anywhere without his and regularly used it as a weapon.  

Steed operated in the sixties alongside his sidekick Emma Peel played by Diana Rigg and those of a certain vintage will remember his three-piece suit, bowler hat and the ever-present umbrella, his favourite weapon. The handle concealed a sword, and other umbrellas at his disposal contained a variety of accessories.

One had a tape recorder, another had a tip that could emit knock out gas, another one had a camera hidden under the handle for covert photography, and he even had one that contained measures of whisky. He also rang doorbells with the tips instead of using his finger. I’m not sure how he knew which one he was going to need at any given time, but he always managed to have the right one for the occasion.

That seemed far-fetched back then, but it wasn’t long before umbrellas were used as weapons by eastern Europeans. In 1978, Bulgarian dissident Georgi Markov was killed by poison dart filled with ricin that was fired from an umbrella on Waterloo Bridge in London.

Markov, a communist defector working for the BBC World Service, left his office at Bush House in the UK capital on September 11 and walked across the bridge to take the train home. As he waited at a bus-stop, he felt a sharp jab in his thigh and saw a man picking up an umbrella.

He developed a high temperature and four days later, he was dead. A post-mortem examination established that he had been killed by a tiny pellet containing a small dose of the poison that was only detected because the pellet carrying the poison failed to dissolve as it was supposed to.

Umbrellas can also be destructive in the domestic setting. Walking around the house with a fully extended golf umbrella is guaranteed to end badly so it is not recommended. Having said that, it is actively encouraged on one day every year. March 13^th is ‘Open an Umbrella Indoors Day’. The organisers say that while opening an umbrella indoors is supposed to be bad luck, they want to know if there is any truth behind this superstition.

‘Open An Umbrella Indoors Day’ was invented in 2003 by Thomas Knibb who hoped to defy the superstition by encouraging people to open their umbrellas indoors and then observe the consequences.

If you want to take part, just follow these four simple steps: Find an umbrella and check that you are indoors. Position yourself clear of breakable objects and people who value their eyesight. Take a deep breath, grasp the umbrella handle firmly with one hand and open the umbrella with the other. Then note any bad luck that occurs after.

Best of luck with that but my umbrella will be staying in the boot for now.

• 

If you still don’t know how real or how scary Covid-19 is, then you should listen back to Brendan O’Connor’s interview with Senator Marie-Louise O’Donnell about her battle with the virus. She said it was petrifying and when it had sucked all the energy out of her, she was almost prepared to give up and drift away because it would have been easier.

There’s no doubt about it, the Corona virus is nasty. It makes us sick, sometimes with devastating consequences, it screws the economy and basically turns our world upside down. Nobody is immune from the fallout.

It’s devious in the way it divides communities and sets us against one another. Everyone has faced criticism during the pandemic, the Government, public health advisors, the pubs, the restaurants, the congregating youngsters, sports fans, holiday makers, and visitors. The teachers and the special needs assistants got it in the neck too.  

Larissa Nolan wrote a piece in The Times UK recently about the continued closure of schools for children with special educational needs. She was very unhappy with the teacher’s unions who, she said, were making unreasonable demands to the detriment of the children.

According to Nolan, education minister Norma Foley’s plan to reopen schools just for these children — who comprise just 4 per cent of the entire school population — was clear-headed, reasonable and both morally and legally right.

She claimed it was a decent compromise by an education minister and a taoiseach who are both former teachers themselves. Surely nobody could oppose the opening of special schools, which we now knew to be an essential service? But the teachers’ unions could, and she said they rank the needs and interests of their members higher than those of special-needs children. The unions’ focus is furthering their own agenda.

Strong stuff but that’s her opinion and she’s entitled to it. Looking at the other side of the coin though, the INTO general secretary John Boyle, said the fundamental problem was conflicting health messaging. That had left many school staff totally unconvinced that the school environment was safe under current conditions. He said the education department webinar, which attracted over 16,000 participants, clearly demonstrated the level of fear and anxiety among school staff.

Their fear seemed reasonable to me because there is no shortage of it in this current climate. As someone who is retired, it’s easy for me to abide by the public health advice. I stay at home and I keep to myself, so I don’t really have too much to worry about but that’s not the case for everyone.

Life is much more complicated for the essential workers. They operate at the coal face every day so they are entitled to every possible support to ensure their environment is as safe as it can be. That’s not easy during a pandemic, I know. Especially when there is such a lot of uncertainty and so much we still don’t understand about the Coronavirus.

We’re not sure about the long term affects for those who have had it because it hasn’t been around long enough yet. We don’t know if we will ever be completely rid of it or if there will always be some variant lurking in the shadows? With so many unknowns, I’m slow to criticise those reluctant to go to work in circumstances that will bring them into close contact with others because all along, the advice has been to keep our distance.

That has been drilled into us since last March. The virus doesn’t travel, people do which is why we were told to stay away from others, so I think it’s perfectly understandable that some are concerned about returning to the workplace but then, I have a vested interest in this argument.

My wife, Gaye, is a special needs assistant and she would prefer to be in school, but safety is a priority for her. She’s not getting any younger and the work is very demanding but while she finds it tough at times, she loves her job. She’s normally up early every morning, looking forward to spending the day with the children and watching them progress.

I’m told by people she works with that she is very capable and that doesn’t surprise me because she doesn’t do anything by halves. She always gives 100%. Right now, she misses the children she is assigned to and takes no pleasure from being out of school. She wants to be back with them, but she is extremely nervous.

Ms. Nolan said every teacher she knows would go back into class for kids who need them, even if everyone had to wear hazmat suits. It’s a vocation she said. I absolutely agree with her that it is a vocation but none of the reassurances from the government at the time, encouraged my wife or her colleagues to return to the classroom.

Ms. Nolan accepts that special needs assistants in particular, act in loco parentis and sincerely care for the welfare and progress of their students. She must also be aware that this often includes toileting, peg feeding, cleaning and comforting these kids and you can’t do that without being up close and personal. Social distancing in those circumstances is not possible.

Ms. Nolan also believes that plenty of people feel teachers would change their tune if they were put on the Covid payment instead of getting their full salaries. Personally speaking, I think that’s unfair but it’s an example of the division this virus is creating within our community.

Thankfully, a plan is in place for a gradual reopening of the schools and nobody is happier to hear that than the teachers and SNA’s. It would be nice to think that this will bring an end to the blame game, but I have my doubts.

• 

I wrote a piece in the Echo some time ago about driving a truck to the Chernobyl affected areas of Belarus and Western Russia. It generated quite a bit of feedback and some wanted to know more about those journeys and others asked if I had any more anecdotes from that time. So here goes.

For over fifteen years, I visited Belarus regularly. There were many charities doing their bit for the children in that part of the world back then and the Irish weren’t found wanting. A huge amount of humanitarian aid was collected and delivered by fleets of trucks and ambulances to where it was needed most.

The convoys usually left in the spring and those 3000-mile trips across Europe were tough. I think the largest one I was on consisted of twenty articulated trucks and the same number of ambulances. Every vehicle had at least two people on board, so it was a logistical nightmare.

The trucks contained food, clothing, hospital equipment, supplies for building projects and toys etc. and the ambulances were also used to transport aid. When all the deliveries were completed, the ambulances were donated to various hospitals and the drivers flew home. That took two weeks, but truck drivers had to drive back home again so they took a bit longer.

The vehicle was our home for the duration. Conditions were rough and you did the best with the limited space, but it was always cramped and almost certainly cold. On a good day in Belarus, you might get a bed in an orphanage or a space on the floor in a day care centre. On a really good day, you might get a shower and even a cold one was a blessing. Other than that, we relied on baby wipes to remove the grime.

Humour provided necessary relief. CB radios were fitted to every vehicle and they were used to relay instructions and directions to everyone while we were on the move, but they also provided entertainment. There was a lot of slagging over the airwaves and nobody was immune.

One guy in particular orchestrated most of it. Pat Mohally is a Cork man through and through and a staunch ‘Barrs supporter. He gave a huge amount of his spare time to collecting the aid, delivering it to the warehouse, sorting it and loading the trucks. He is a very genuine character although I would never tell him that.

He remains to this day, the undisputed king of ball-hopping. Every waking moment was spent devising new schemes and looking for fresh victims. He loved winding people up and he was even prepared to sacrifice himself for the cause.

On one convoy, Pat got his wife to leak a story that he had packed some ladies’ tights to protect him from the cold. We were delighted to hear that Pat wore ladies clothing and we thought we finally had something on him. We spread the word but said nothing to him. There were plenty of Pretty Polly jokes coming over the airwaves and he played along, pretending to be completely in the dark. He kept it up for a week and didn’t care that he was the butt of the joke because he knew that in the end the last laugh would be on us as soon as we discovered he set it up himself.

We used a regular truck stop for overnight stays in Germany. On the Autobahn, there were many signs for Ausfahrt and Pat would tell everyone that there was a concert in Ausfahrt that night. Tickets were €10 and anyone interested would be collected at 7pm and taken to the venue.

Naturally, there was no concert. Ausfahrt is the German word for ‘exit’ so you would expect to see that on the motorway. At 7pm though, there would always be a few people waiting for the non-existent bus and that made his day. The money he collected was never returned either but donated to charity.

One time we used the Channel Tunnel to get to France. It’s a 50km version of the Jack Lynch Tunnel except that you drive onto a shuttle train and they carry you over. Pat told everyone to get their cameras out mid-way across to capture them feeding the fish. One guy did and Pat christened him Jaques Cousteau.

We always had delays at the Belarussian border while clearing customs and there was no mobile phone coverage, but Pat would pass the time by making pretend phone calls. He would walk around having imaginary conversations while holding something in the air that was connected to his mobile. He told everyone it was a special border booster, but it was just his charger.

One guy had previously arranged an interview at the border with his local radio station back home unaware that he would have no phone coverage there. When he saw Pat on the phone, he ran the length of twenty trucks to borrow it. As soon as Pat saw him closing in, he started shaking the charger and complaining that he was losing signal. Pat kept it up until the poor man was exhausted.

When we passed an area with a lot of windmills or wind turbines, Pat announced that they were the town coolers because it gets very hot there in the summer.

Driving through the UK one time he spotted a helicopter overhead presumably doing a traffic report for a local radio station, but Pat saw an opportunity for some mischief. He announced over the radio that he had received a call from home to say that Sky News were filming the convoy. He told everyone to open the windows and wave up at the helicopter. Many did of course.

Even now, I watch myself when he’s around.

• 

I collected my grandson Cooper from primary school before Christmas. I hadn’t seen him for a while, so we were both a bit excited. When he got into the car, he told me he’d like to come to my place for a bit, so off we went. We chilled out while he brought me up to speed with the many developments in his world and then I gave him his dinner.

It’s compulsory to have some treats afterwards, and one of the advantages of being a granddad is that I don’t have to be as strict with him as I was with my own children. I’m not as responsible as I used to be. Anyway, he knows all the hiding places by now, so he’ll help himself whether I give them to him or not.

I was expecting a delivery by courier that day, so we couldn’t go too far. We hung around the house until eventually, a truck arrived in the driveway and a large box was plonked at the front door. It was a rowing machine but that’s a story for another day.

These delivery guys are only paid to drop it outside and that’s fair enough, but I needed to get it into the house before it rained. The box was about four feet tall and wasn’t exactly lightweight and while Cooper was very willing to help me, I was afraid if it fell on him, the poor child would be no more. That would lead to an uncomfortable conversation with an irate daughter, so I did my best to keep him out of it.

My back isn’t great at the best of times, but I persevered as carefully as I could. There was lots of groaning and grunting and it didn’t take me long to get it wedged in the doorway. Cooper, who is a six-year-old going on twenty, offered many solutions and between the two of us, we got it into the hallway.

The next step was to free the machine from the packaging. Cooper was very keen to tackle it with my stanley knife but then thought that blowing up the box might be quicker. Grateful for all his suggestions, I ploughed ahead, and we eventually succeeded in removing the machine from the mountain of cardboard, polystyrene, and plastic.

Cooper had been full of anticipation up to this point and couldn’t wait to see it in action. He insisted that he should have the first go on it to show me how it worked. I’m very fortunate that Cooper knows everything. I was about to explain that before the machine could be assembled, there was the tricky business of getting it up into the attic, but I had lost him by then.

The big empty box had now become the focus of his attention. He brought it into the front room and turned it on its side to make a camp out of it. He filled it with cushions, some toys, a torch and a book until it took on the appearance of a survival shelter.

When he realised the world wasn’t about to end after all, he gathered some extra pieces of packaging and turned the camp into an army tank. I had to cut a hole in the top to make a turret and no sooner had I done that when it was transformed into a shop.

I had long since given up any hope of trying to concentrate on the instructions for putting the machine together. I was now fully occupied with being a target for a tank gunner, a passenger in a space rocket and a full-time customer at the new shop but it was very entertaining watching his imagination run wild. He was having a ball.

I have an old spare smartphone that I keep for Cooper and it’s connected to the Internet so he can watch Kids Youtube and I keep it charged for when he calls. He took the phone to his shop and wedged it into a piece of polystyrene packaging until only the screen was visible. Then he told me to swipe my card on the screen when I was buying something. I was gobsmacked. When my kids were playing shop, we had to give them a supply of loose change, but this guy had gone high tech.

Cooper is only six, but his world is already so far removed from what my own kids were familiar with at his age. It’s frightening to see technology advancing so quickly but these kids have no problem keeping up. They take it all in their stride unlike us old codgers but yet, for all the modern technology, it was an empty cardboard box and his imagination that kept him amused for an entire afternoon.

Children can adapt to any situation and they’ve already discovered at their young age, that things can change quickly. Covid-19 is something new they have to deal with, but they will cope.

My wife recently called to see my daughter who was at home with her two children. She was confined to barracks after having had recent surgery and her partner was at work, so Gaye delivered some essentials to her. She was only popping in for a miniute and she had her mask on.

Naturally, the kids were delighted to see her, and the two-year-old guy didn’t want her to leave. He told her to stay and to take off her coat. He wanted her to put her keys away and then he got her to sit down on the couch. The one thing he didn’t ask her to do, was to take off her mask because face coverings have become normal to him.

Sad to see that but hopefully it won’t be for too much longer.