Rain, rain go away this is the Bluffer’s Guide to Irish Day and you are all welcome, come hell or high water.
Last weekend, the Bluffer headed to “a true fairy land” in the words of his mother’s favourite song, The Green Glens of Antrim.
Glinntí Aontroma - the glens of Antrim are indeed one of the loveliest places in all of Ireland.
The Bluffer spent many’s a happy childhood hour in Bun na hAbhna - Waterfoot where his parents and other members of the family would hire houses out for us to stay in back in the 1960s.
D’óladh muid bláthach - we used to drink buttermilk (yuk!) and théadh muid a dh’iascaireacht - we went fishing, mainly for “spricks” but caught nothing or d’imríodh muid peil ar an trá - we played football on the beach or listened to the hits of the day on the jukebox in the local shop and ate chips.
The sun always shone – in our memories anyway – and the Bluffer always loved the walk from Waterfoot into Bun Abhann Dalla - Cushendall.
It was a glorious trip down bóithrín na smaointe - memory lane last week as passing the buildings – the houses, hotels, BnB’s and the pubs in which our parents spent an inordinate amount of time while we pre-teens made our own entertainment.
And then there was an tírdhreach - the scenery and what else would you expect from rocks that were formed “in a range of environments from arid desert, warm tropical seas, explosive volcanic eruptions to cold glacial conditions.”
So a few hundred million years before we were enjoying our ice lollies, the area was a fásach - a desert, faoin fharraige - under the sea or shaking at the thunderous sound of a bolcán - a volcano.
Nowadays, the thundering sounds around Cushendall come from shoulder to shoulder tackles in iománaíocht - hurling which is of course spórt náisiúnta na nGlinntí - the national sport of the Glens.
Hurling looks astonishing on television but when you see it “in the flesh” it is even more impressive.
At the heart of the Glens for even longer than hurling is the Irish language.
The Glens were a Gaeltacht up until the early 1900s when the last native speakers died out, but as in the rest of the north, the language is going through an athbheochan - a revival.
The Bluffer had the biggest chicken burger he has ever encountered at a local cafe before going for walk along Cushendall beach which one signpost points out “was once full of eangacha - nets, in readiness for the annual run of bradán - salmon returning form the Atlantic Ocean.”
Indeed fishing was vital to Glens people with scadáin - herrings, troisc - cod, turbaird - turbot and leathóga - plaice all sources of food and valuable exports to Scotland.
In keeping with the maritime theme, there was a trip to the Boat Club for a relaxing aperitif before we headed to Bun Abhann Duinne - Cushendun for another exhilarating walk along the beach there – and another bevvie outdoors in the heat of the elusive sun.
CÚPLA FOCAL
Glinntí Aontroma(glintchee aintruma) - the glens of Antrim Bun na hAbhna(bun ha hoena) - Waterfoot
D’óladh muid bláthach(doloo midge blaahakh) - we used to drink buttermilk
théadh muid a dh’iascaireacht(hayoo midge a yeeaskerakht) - we went fishing
d’imríodh muid peil ar an trá(jimreeoo midge pel er un traa) - we played football on the beach
Bun Abhann Dalla (bun owen daala) - Cushendall
bóithrín na smaointe(boyhreen ne smweentcha) - memory lane
an tírdhreach(un cheer-yrakh) - the scenery
fásach(faasakh) - a desert
faoin fharraige(fween arriga) - under the sea
bolcán(bulcaan) - a volcano
iomanaíocht(umaneeakht) - hurling
spórt náisiúnta na nGlinntí(sport naashoonta na nglintchee) - the national of the Glens
athbheochan(ahvyawakhan) - a revival
eangacha (angakha) - nets
scadáin(scadaan) - herrings
troisc(trishk) - cod
turbaird(turbardge) - turbot
leathóga(lehoga) - plaice
Bun Abhann Duinne(bun owen dinya) - Cushendun