Alone and exhausted, my finger was far from pulse

Double Vision with Charlie Adley

Being a news addict, I usually have my finger on the pulse of local, domestic and international affairs, but as events unfolded in France a couple of weeks ago I was detached, both physically and emotionally, hammering north up the N17.

I was on a Blue Bag trip, just me and my oldest travelling companion. Purchased in 1984 on Oxford Street for a tenner, Blue Bag has been around the planet with me a couple of times, as well as joining me on innumerable trips such as this, dashes for time alone, time with friends, time to do whatever I please, away from all manner of responsibility.

After months of illness I thought I was fully recovered, but as I was to discover, my energy levels were still severely depleted.

As wind and rain lashed the West of Ireland, I turned off the car radio and lifted my spirits by enveloping myself in a Vivaldi violin concerto. The swirling joyous music dissolved the impact of the storm, washing the rest of the world from my thoughts.

Turn off at Claremorris, cross country to Ballyvary, Ballina and eventually Killala. I know this journey so well, each turnoff another station of the cross.

You what? Blimey, maybe I’ve lived in Ireland too long!

Excited and eager to visit much-loved friends, I arrived back in what I refer to as ‘my village’, which will offend the locals on two counts: one, because many of them refer to it as a town; and two, I’m clearly not a local. A mere blow-in, I blew-out after three and half years, but a decade later I still love the place and its people.

First stop to see a man who owns a unique nook in the fireplace of my soul. Our time spent together never seems long enough, yet we managed to share a tiny ‘winter warmer’ and then both headed into the storm, he to fill bags of sand in a quarry, while was I aiming for a rather more genteel destination in the shape of tea and a chat with another friend.

She is dealing with the kind of loss you experience only once a lifetime; the loss you hope to share with others in old age, when everyone is far more ready to deal with death.

We supped soup and talked and then I went off to the Old Deanery, where I’d rented a lovely holiday cottage for a couple of nights from another friend. (Contact Liz at: 096 32221).

Liz had lit a raging turf fire, so the place was completely toasty by the time I arrived. Dropping Blue Bag to the floor, I took off my coat and exclaimed out loud “thank you, universe!”

Then I collapsed backwards into the fireside chair with such impetus I remember thinking it felt like I’d been shot. Of course, I knew that was a mere indulgence, but at that moment I was completely unaware of people being shot and held hostage in France.

For more, read this week’s Galway City Tribune.