Cavan Calling: Spring really must be just around the corner. Not only have my snowdrops appeared in their simple, elegant and understated fashion, but on one of the gloriously sunny days we've had recently I tidied up my garden shed. It is amazing how energising sunshine can be, writes Steph Booth
It was the first real opportunity I've had to sort out plant pots and hang up tools that have spent the past year in bags and boxes waiting to see daylight. Also stowed over winter in the shed was my bicycle. The dogs were milling about as I worked and they got very excited when they saw the bicycle, so I decided to go for a quick spin down the road. I was wearing old gardening clothes and my wellies and I was also pretty dusty and dirty by this stage - but who was going to see me?
Despite all my walking, my thighs quickly felt the strain as the road is uphill, but I was determined I would not get off the bike no matter what. By the time I reached the top of the hill I had a face like a beetroot from the effort. I paused for breath before the best bit - free-wheeling all the way home. As I stood propped against a bank with the dogs sitting at my feet a car appeared from around the bend. It had French number plates and as it passed, slowed right down while all four occupants stared at the local colour one comes across in the back lanes of west Cavan. A red-faced, middle-aged woman dressed as Madame Scarecrow, riding a bright pink bicycle.
My three dogs just stared back, unperturbed by their curiosity. I developed a sudden interest in my fingernails as I felt my face go even redder - if that was possible. Why do things this like this happen? Usually at that time of day I would not meet anyone on the road. I waited until I saw their car pass our house before I set off again. I really did not want to provide them with any further entertainment! That evening, Tony and I went to the Portora Royal School in Enniskillen to see their production of Treasure Island. Aaron, the son of our friends Keith and Suzanne Livingston, was playing the part of Admiral Trelawney. It was all good fun and included some rather enigmatic trees and a particularly loquacious parrot.
We were out again the following evening - an occurrence almost unheard of these days. Not much tempts us away from a cosy log fire and a good book.
Harold Johnston, who has a shop in Blacklion, was giving a talk and slide show to the local history society. He ranged over a wide spectrum from the Neolithic remains on the Cuilcagh mountains to more recent history of the area. One story particularly caught our interest as it featured the road where we live and sounded like something out of an Ealing Comedy.
Apparently, during the second World War flour was in short supply in the Republic. Smuggling it across the Border was a thriving local industry. Eventually, the local gardaí and customs officials decided to tackle the offenders and lay in wait at the top of our road. Mayhem ensued, and during the fracas bags of flour burst open, covering the combatants from head to toe in white, making them unrecognisable. No one knew who should be fighting whom. This wonderful story was not only covered in the Irish press, but by the French newspaper, Le Monde!
This is the last column I shall write. Time and the features page of this newspaper move on, but I have very much enjoyed my time with you. I hope I have managed to convey the joy and contentment we have found here in wonderful west Cavan. Come and seek out its peace and awesome grandeur. Come for the walking and sailing, the music and the friendly people. I will guarantee you will not be disappointed!
Life presents all sorts of challenges and opportunities and sometimes we just have to close our eyes and jump for the chances we are given. Eighteen months ago that was a leap of faith Tony and I made. Thank goodness we did, because I would not now be sitting in my study gazing out at mountains bathed in early spring sunshine as I finish writing "Cavan Calling". We love this place and are very glad to be here.
