Welcome to my weekly blog,  SATURDAY SESSIONS!

          In this blog, for the perusal of all our students, past, present and future, I include an extract from our interactive presentation Course, Ireland and its Culture.

          We continue with our mini-series on the legends, tales and tall tales of Ireland!

          

          Long ago, in a small village in Ireland, there lived a man named Séamus.

          One day, he was on his way to the market when he saw a tiny man sitting on a wall, whistling to himself. He knew immediately that the little man was a leprechaun and that to get to the crock of gold at the end of the rainbow, he would have to grab the leprechaun and never take his eyes off him for a second, because the leprechaun would try to trick him.

          He sneaked up behind the leprechaun and grabbed him. The leprechaun struggled and yelled, cursing Séamus and angrily asked him what he wanted. All the time looking at him in the eye, Séamus replied that he would let him go if he showed him to the crock of gold.

          The little man said he would show him the place if Séamus let him go. Séamus was too smart to fall for that trick, so he told the leprechaun to show him the way.

          They set off across the fields and Séamus had a hard time keeping his eye constantly on the tiny little man in his fist. On they went. His feet were wet, his clothes were torn and his hands and face were scratched by brambles and thorns. 

          Eventually, they came to a clearing at the edge of the forest. A rainbow appeared and at last the leprechaun told Séamus that they had arrived. Séamus complained that he was not able to see the end of the rainbow, but the leprechaun just laughed and told him that a rainbow was circular and had no end.

          Séamus shook the leprechaun, telling him that there was nothing to laugh about, but the leprechaun laughed again and told him that the gold was buried in the ground under his feet. All he had to do was remember where it was, because he had to go home first and get a spade to dig.

          True to his word, Séamus let the leprechaun go and marked the spot with a stick, placing his cap on it. Then, in case the cap might blow away, he also tied his red scarf around the stick.

          He then went home through the forest to get a spade. A few hours later,  he returned with the tool, pushing his way through the undergrowth and brambles and thorns until at last he reached the clearing at the edge of the forest where the leprechaun's gold was buried.

          What he saw, however, left him speechless: the whole clearing was a forest of sticks, thousands of them, sticking out of the ground, each with an identical cap and scarf. Séamus then remembered what the leprechaun had told him about the rainbow. But in his eagerness to get to the gold, he never realised that the whole idea of a rainbow's end is a myth because a rainbow has no end at all!                                                                                                           Séamus threw his spade into the air and just burst into a fit of laughter!

Welcome to my weekly blog,  SATURDAY SESSIONS!         

In this blog, for the perusal of all our students, past, present and future, I include an extract from our interactive presentation Course, Ireland and its Culture. We explore and discover  Ireland and its Culture - so that's why I call them 'Logs', as in a ship's (or Star Ship Enterprise's)  logbook! 

Each Saturday, I hope to post an extract from each of the Logs.

Below each extract, we have a corresponding extract  from the Mining The Text section which focuses on the use of English involved in creating the paragraph.

In our Course, participants sit back and listen first to a recording of the reading, then we read it together, look at how it was created and discuss the content involved!

In the afternoons and evenings, we go out, explore and discover!

If you wish to ask me any question about the text, by the way, just send me an e-mail at greg@bluefeather.ie

For the next few weeks, we'll be sharing some old Irish tales and legends with you :) .

LOG 12, The Stone of Truth

In a remote part of the south of Ireland, deep in a valley, there was a village which had The Stone of Truth. Anybody suspected of telling a lie or breaking the law would be asked to speak in front of the Stone of Truth. 

Now, in this village there was a man by the name of Paddy who was known to be a thief. However, Paddy hadn't stolen anything for years because he was afraid of the Stone of Truth. One dark night, however, Paddy decided to steal the stone itself.  That way, he could continue to steal without getting caught.

When everyone was sound asleep, Paddy lifted the heavy stone onto his shoulders, walked  to the bottom of the valley where he stood on a boulder and dumped the stone into the river. There was a loud splash and then silence. Paddy jumped for joy and made his way back into the village. Not a man to miss an opportunity, he sneaked into a villager's garden and helped himself to the lettuce, carrots and potatoes that were growing there.

The following morning, the villagers were at his door, demanding to know if he had stolen the vegetables in their neighbour's garden. Paddy denied everything with a big smile, knowing he would never get caught. Then the villagers asked him to accompany them to the Stone of Truth so that they could make sure he wasn't lying. Paddy gladly accepted the offer and walked with them to the centre of the village.

To his shock and horror, there lay the Stone of Truth where it always had been. Paddy had to spend the next month working in the neighbour's garden as punishment.

One morning, when he was clearing the garden to dig the soil, he lifted a small water-rolled pebble from the grass. In front of him was a tiny man, no bigger than his thumb. The leprechaun  told him that it was he and his leprechaun friends who had returned the Stone of Truth to the village.

And the moral of the story? You can hide the truth and think it will never be found; but in the end, the truth will always find you.

www.bluefeather.ie

XXVIII

Summer at the docks;

In the containers,

Apples.

XXIX

Famine in Africa;

In the Vatican,

Banks.

XXX

The nuclear bunker;

In the advertisement,

Payment-plan.

Welcome to my weekly blog,  SATURDAY SESSIONS!

In this blog, for the perusal of all our students, past, present and future, I include an extract from our interactive presentation Course, Ireland and its Culture. We explore and discover  Ireland and its Culture - so that's why I call them 'Logs', as in a ship's (or Star Ship Enterprise's J ) logbook! 

Each Saturday, I hope to post an extract from each of the Logs.

Below each extract, we have a corresponding extract  from the Mining The Text section which focuses on the use of English involved in creating the paragraph.

In our Course, participants sit back and listen first to a recording of the reading, then we read it together, look at how it was created and discuss the content involved!

In the afternoons and evenings, we go out, explore and discover!

If you wish to ask me any question about the text, by the way, just send me an e-mail at greg@bluefeather.ie

An extract from Log 10, IRISH SPORTS

The two most popular Irish sports in Ireland are hurling and Gaelic football. It was one of the two favourite pastimes of the Celts. (The other was horse-racing). Hurling is mentioned in the story of the great legendary hero, Cúchulainn.                                                                                             
It is the fastest field game in the world. The hurley, made of ash, looks a bit like a hockey-stick. The leather ball, known as a sliotar, is about the size of a tennis-ball.                                                                               

There are fifteen players on each team (that includes the unfortunate goalkeeper!) and each half of the game lasts thirty-five minutes. A player can run with the ball on his hurley (or for a few steps with the ball in his hand);  he passes the ball by striking it with his hurley or tapping it to his team-mate with the palm of his hand. To score, he can hit the ball over the cross-bar for one point or into the goal-net for three points. 

Two of the most famous hurling counties in Ireland are Tipperary in Munster and Kilkenny in Leinster. The All-Ireland Final takes place in September every year in Croke Park in Dublin which has a capacity of 83,000 spectators. Visitors to Ireland are usually thrilled to attend a hurling match in Croke Park - if they can get a ticket! - although one often hears the comment: 'The match was great - but I couldn't see the ball!'  

A women's version of hurling is called camogie; it is much the same as hurling.

AWAKENING

For  JJ

Ushered from the maze of your dreams this morning,

Dazzled by the lights,

Loath to leave the damp warmth of the womb,

You awakened, eyelids slowly opening like a daisy,

As indeed they may some thirty thousand times to come 
In more awakenings,

Calling you back to the sunlit, lamplit maze of life,

With all its twists and turns,

Before you awaken once again,

Beyond the dreams, beyond the hazards of the maze,

To the shining changelessness of your being.

i)

The seeds of the starburst;

The chemistry of the cosmos,

The baby.

ii)

In flight with the seagulls;

On wheels at the seaside,

The baby.

iii)

The houses in motion;

The buggy at rest,

The baby.