Rambling spain

A line of ants passed me by unheeded by my presence as the sweat from my brow dripped upon their never ending toil. I however stood bent over fascinated at their maneuvers. My curiosity sated i passed on by along the deserted dust path with nothing but nick cave in my ear and the constant flutter of the hares darting in to multicolored half barren bushes as i approach. The smell of orange lingers on the air and i wonder are they hares or rabbits. Perhaps a bit of both. Crossbreeding and both species side by side. And i stroll on. The girl in the too tight leggings says hola. I find it hard to know where to look for her top is made for someone less fond of food as well. The auld lads all think im spanish i think. They give me the auld fella nods and the beunz diaz and i return the favour. Nick is hammering on about the big red hand and in the cool of the tunnel i feel shade and read the graffiti in illegible fluorescent shades of pink and blue and greens and i walk on somewhat more educated. The dog in need of anger management classes growls from behind an iron fence, his chain restricting him enough to put the hibbey gibbeys in me as to why he needs a chaining as well as a fencing. I tend towards the other half of the path while the tshirt is drowned in my hand and the heat on my skin reminds me of my bloodline which originated in this land where i feel so much at home. I bear their colour and their ease of pace and inside a fury made beautiful by its self containment within the bounds of self contentment.

I should have brought water but i feel strong. I have the goat in me to keep going, the mountain goat blood of my mothers side, the lack of equilibrium in my mental disposition acquried from the same source. The words and love of same dropped directly from the branches of my fathers orchard.

The point I’m aiming for is farther than it appears but it wont defeat me. The man with the moped tied with two dogs in need of walking passes me by and i smile. He raise his hand in salute and i do the same reflected in the mirror of his overladen motorised biwheel vehicle. A model long gone out of production yet still it plods along uncaring of its generational positioning.

I touch the wall and stop. Wild trees and a vslley to a near dry river. A long distance from the supposed catch of the so called fishing village yet still its holds the beauty of its functional claim. The trees bend with the multicolored flowered bushes to form the magnificane of this piece of the world where the ink traces the paper of the note book which was selected for me by the small hands i have held since her and his birth.

I smile and turn to return to the world beyond the wild of this moment

(C) frankie mcgivney in spain

Rambling

Rambling in Spain

It was green

A pocket plant

For a couple

Black and red

Beetles

And rabbits

They looked at me

And I at them

Then they did what I can’t

They vanished

Not a sound or twitch

To be able to just stay

Hidden and watch it all

Drift by

The handsome waiter shock my hand

I had been the one to smile

To ask him how he was

We had eaten already so passed by

His outstretched menu

But the day was hot and he looked

Roasted as a Sunday duck

I grasped both hands

and humanity was good again

50 lengths of the pool

Easy peasy salmon squeeesy

Dee swam smooth

Ava was a mermaid

Luke like a swimmer with shoulders

The Spanish girls admired

I miss the mats the sweet the puzzle

Of my physical heaven of Brazilian

Jiu jitsu but I’m lifting and swimming

And walking and eating

Paella Recipe for men

Steps

(1) clear the wife, kids and dog out of the kitchen and lock the door

(2) put on some Spanish music or something you think sounds kind of Spanish,

(3) as you are a man you need to put on an apron, don’t matter what colour but if you have neighbours probably try to avoid the wife’s pink frilly one.

(4) get the slab of wood out from the cupboard, this is called a chopping board, good man you are doing well nothing burnt so far.

(5) turn up the music and do a bit of a dance, no one is looking and the door is locked but don’t get carried away so leave your clothes on

(6) pull out the plug from the fridge and open the door, this stops the fecking thing from beeping all the time and stops the wife knocking on the door asking what’s going on in there every five minutes.

(7) open  a few windows this is for the smell of burning and the smoke to escape

(8) get anything what looks like it came from an animal and put out on the table. so chicken , beef,, chorizo, rashers , sausages, bunny rabbit,  the remains of the cat, dog, horse  the usual stuff if you find human remains in there you may need to get out of the house quick or ask yourself some  serious questions about where you were last night

(9) now the difficult bit get out other stuff what isn’t meat such as garlic, tins of tomatoes (they are red), an onion, frozen peas (boil some water put them in a bowl and put the water and a few fist fulls of peas altogether, this defrosts them big boy). Some of this stuff wont be in the fridge it will be in cupboards, those are the things hidden behind the doors with small handles on them. take a leap of faith and open them for once

(10) after you eventually find the paprika and chicken stock cube have a bit of a sit down, listen to the music playing and have a cup of tea, no need to be getting all stressed and stuff

(11) get a knife and put the stuff you have on the table on the chopping board and go stone raving mad chopping it all up into smaller bits , this is the fun bit. go mental with yourself, no holding back.

(12) get the paella dish down from where ever the wife has hidden it away, wipe the dust of, put on a heap of oil (any oil don’t be acting the mick now by trying to be fancy) just grab something you could put in the engine of your car and pour it out (on the pan) turn on the cooker (red button on the wall, the one you always wondred what it was for) and turn the dial on the front and back rings, all four of them bad boys (this makes it easy rather than trying to figure out those bastarding tiny diagrams beside the dials)

(12) get the none meat stuff (onion, garlic, peas) and throw them on the pan) find a stick and stir them around, when they get hot and when smoke starts to fill the kitchen up open the tin or two of tomatoes (don’t be a mangy yoke use two of them) and stir them with the stick again.

(13) mix up the chicken stock, turn on the kettle (the one appliance with the microwave you are great at using) get a bowl and a spoon and mix the water and the cube (feck it put in a veg one too, lets go mad here). then all the pieces are gone, pour it over the stuff in the pan and wait and watch it bubble, stirring with the stick again.

(14) open the rice packet , this isn’t easy, rice is small and you have big thick fingers so take it slow real slow, if it pours out on the floor, don’t panic, get the dust pan and brush them up and throw in the pan (no one will know). get a few fists of rice and throw it in the pan and stir again. let it bubble, lovely bubbles. Turn the heat down.

(15) open the paprika bottle thingy and pour heaps of it over the meat, use the whole wee bottle of it, and if you are adventurous add a bit of chilli powder (try the hot stuff lad and see how you fare)

(16) heat a second pot and peg in all the meat bit be bit, let it cook  until it isn’t too pink anymore then put it on a clean plate (don’t use the plate where it was when it was raw or you will be death of yourself and whoever else is mad enough to eat this when its finally finished.

(17) give the rice a stir after about 10 mins and see if its starting to look a bit soft, then get that cooked animal flesh and throw it in there. turn the heat down low and let your creation bubble away.

(18) get the remote control, turn on the telly and set the alarm on the phone to go of in fifteen mins

(19) wake up when the alarm goes of, stir the stick again. if the fluid is absorbed into the rice then happy days. Taste the rice if its hard and the liquid level is low then add some water and go back to the tv. If there is heaps of liquid and its still hard go back to tv and pray you didn’t feck it all up (perhaps look up a take away menu just in case)

(20) eventually the rice will be soft. take it of the heat and cover with a bit of parsley, that the green stuff

(21) unlock the kitchen door. call the wife

(22) wait for her to put the knives and forks out, grab a spoon

(23) tell them all it may not look great but it will be lovely

(24) tell the kids to at least try it

(25) give up , get a spoon and eat it yourself if edible.

(26) put back in the plug of the fridge and hope she didn’t notice

 

(c) Francie McGivney 26.02.16

Holiday writing

The pilot was on the drink and landed the plane in Iceland rather than Ireland or so it feels. It’s frizzling here. Back from hols in spain I discovered I love writing with pencil and paper even did some doodling in the most childlike fashion. Wrote a few poems and load of short stories on paper. It was really enjoyable . Some mad ones actually all touching that status. Hols were best ever really kids and her indoors ingreat form.