Two for Tuesday

I) Did you know

…that if you are buried in Singapore it’s a temporary situation only? The law states that after 15 years your remains must be disinterred and either cremated or re-buried in a smaller individual plot.

So much for resting in peace.

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II) Cottage envy

Doagh Island, Donegal, Ireland overlooking Trawbreaga Bay

What’s in a name?

To learn about the origins of your surname check out this website, The Internet Surname Database.

My surname is Carroll.

This interesting and long-established surname, of Irish origin, is an Anglicized form of the name "O'Cearbhaill", a byname for a butcher or a fierce warrior, deriving from "cearbh", hacking.

There were six distinct septs of O'Carroll in Ireland, namely in Counties Kerry, Offaly, Monaghan, Tipperary, Leitrim and Louth. Carroll has a high position in the list of most numerous surnames in Ireland, approximately sixteen thousand, which range from Counties Cork, Tipperary and Waterford, to Kilkenny.

My given name Louise also means warrior so I guess you could say that I am someone not to be messed with. 

The Emerald Isle

It was 3 July 1989 and a 23 year old kiwi girl boarded the ferry from Galway to the main island of the Aran group, Inishmore. She was the only passenger and she imagined herself as an intrepid adventurer – the wind was roaring and the Atlantic was at its angry best.  It was breathtakingly cold though it was the middle of summer. After tying up the boat, the man on the dock helped her off the ferry. She thanked him and hurried down the steps looking for somewhere to warm up. She headed toward a small group of whitewashed buildings where she fell into an easy conversation with the old man leaving the tiny post office. She was fascinated by his accent – she’d never heard anything like it despite her weeks already in Ireland. He thought she was South African and wouldn’t be convinced otherwise. They shared two fingers in the dark and smoky bar next door and he suggested she take his bicycle to explore the tiny island.

She almost laughed when she saw the bike – it was older than she was by years and though she hadn’t ridden a bicycle since she was a kid, she bravely pushed off and proceeded along the bumpy roadway.

It was a day to remember.

She marvelled at the ancient beauty of the place and stopped often to talk with islanders going about their business. A farmer stripped to his waist and clearing rocks from his field offered to share his lunch with her and she gratefully sat with him on the low stone wall and accepted a slice of soda bread and half his lump of cheese.

They talked while they ate and he told her with pride that every square inch of dirt on the island was created from seaweed and manure over the last 1000 years.  His grandfather’s father had moved his family to the island more than 80 years earlier and though his own son was now at university in Dublin studying “the law” , he hoped that one day he might return to the island permanently with his own family. As the shadows lengthened and the sky turned pink, she knew she must end her exploring and head back to the village as the last ferry back to the mainland left each evening just before dark. There was no sign of the old man so she left the bicycle with the woman at the post office.

As the boat pulled away from the dock the young woman looked back at the island and held her hair from her eyes. The sun was setting and she was almost overwhelmed with the sheer joy of being able to travel to places of such raw beauty and to enjoy the simple hospitality of such warm and open hearted people.

Limerick laughter

I know that the limerick is considered the very poor and somewhat back water cousin of ‘proper’ poetry but I have always been a big fan of all things licentious and bawdy.

There was a young fellow named Hyde

Who fell down a privy and died

His unfortunate brother

Then fell down another

And now they’re interred side by side

Spot the pun in the last line?  Chuckle.

There was a young girl whose frigidity

Approached cataleptic rigidity

Till you gave her a drink

When she quickly would sink

In a state of complaisant liquidity

From ‘The Lure of the Limerick’ compiled by William Baring-Gould and published by Wordsworth Editions Ltd 1989.

My name

Cartguy found a website (www.surnamedb.com) where you can search your surname and find it’s basis in history.

My surname is Carroll (only one generation ago it was O’Carroll) and this is what the website told me:

O’Carroll is the anglicized form of the Irish name "O'Cearbhaill"  which was a byname for either a butcher or a fierce warrior, deriving from "cearbh", which means hacking or to hack. There were six distinct sects of O'Carroll in Ireland, namely in County Kerry (where my parents are from), and County Tipperary.

 

The hacker/butcher/ fierce warrior bit I do like the sound of and combined with my first name  (Louise) which also means warrior, I sound like someone not to be messed with. 

I like that!

Happy St Paddy’s Day

Being the first in the world to greet the new day, gives us certain advantages here in NZ. Today I’ll be the first to share St Patricks Day greetings with you all.  May the road rise to meet you and the wind be always at your back.

Have a great day. Have fun but be mindful of your liver!

Sláinte