LISTEN BACK TO THE HEN HOUSE

Happy New Year.....

Over the festive period I had the pleasure of welcoming some great women into The Hen House on Dublin South FM.

On Christmas Day there was a party (or possibly chaotic) energy in the studio when my guests were writer Caroline Grace Cassidy and actor Sorcha Furlong.  Lots of laughs but also some interesting conversation about women in acting!  

Then for something completely different the New Year's Day Hen House is a very calm, positive and zen chat with healer Abby Wynne!

You can chose either or both from the programme page which is HERE

I hope you enjoy.  Unfortunately this listen back facility is not available on mobile devices....yet!

Barbara

That Cool Guy - Mandela

Nelson Mandela.  Madiba.  Father of South Africa.  Peacemaker. Visionary.  Leader. Husband. Father. Grandfather.  Humanitarian. Activist. Politician. Prisoner.

I am relieved that Nelson Mandela’s life has finally come to an end.  I feel sure that the last months could not have been easy.  Although most of us die in hospital, most of us aspire to finish our days in our own homes, with those we love.  Madiba achieved that, which is fitting for a man who achieved so much.

It was during the 80s that the situation in South Africa started to seep into my consciousness.  I was aware of the furore caused rugby teams from these islands who continued to play in South Africa when many sporting teams were boycotting the country in protest against apartheid.   I was aware of the young girls of my own age who had lost their jobs in Dunne’s Stores for refusing to handle South African fruit. 

But it was the late 80s before I became aware of this man, this Nelson Mandela.  This was due mainly to the song ‘Free Nelson Mandela’ and the 70^th Birthday Concert which was organised in London, featuring some of music’s very best acts including Dire Straits and The Eurythmics.  It was a kind of political Live Aid.  So I thought this Nelson Mandela must be a pretty cool guy.

A few years later, in February 1990 I was glued to my TV as this ‘cool guy’, Mandela, who up until that point was just a silent, invisible figurehead, walked out of prison, hand in hand with his wife Winnie.  He was an old man, albeit an elegant one who walked very erect and slowly presumably savouring sweet freedom.  I, along with everyone else got my first real look at this man we knew but didn’t know at all.

Since then we have all watched this elderly man as he led South Africa into a new dawn of peace.  His presence was welcomed all over the world as he shared his wisdom and his crusade for peace and freedom.  And that make us so very lucky. 

Our children and our children’s children and their children will learn about Nelson Mandela.  They will watch videos of him and they will read his speeches.  We however, have been given the privilege of watching Mandela’s journey and that of South Africa in real time.  And for that I am so grateful. 

Mandela was a visionary leader.  He was a gifted orator.  But he also had wisdom borne from a deep self knowledge, which I assume came from the long years he spent incarcerated.  He was the physical embodiment of that famous Gandhi quote - “Be The Change You Want To See In The World.”  Mandela walked his talk and did so with grace.

Along with his wisdom was the inner peace of a man at ease with himself and his shortcomings.  “Don’t make me a saint”, he said, “I am no saint”.  But more than this, what made Mandela outstanding as a statesman was his humour.  He was quick to laugh and he poked fun at himself regularly.  He wore his greatness lightly.  And only the true greats of politics have conquered their ego sufficiently to not take themselves too seriously.

The world will wait some time to see his like again.  Thank God for Madiba.  May he rest in peace. 

SEND A CHRISTMAS CARD.. but do it right!

On a shelf, in the corner of my living room are this year’s supplies, neatly arranged in three piles with two of my favourite pens lined up alongside. I am now waiting for the right moment.  Preferably a cold, frosty night when I can light the fire, turn off the TV, pour a glass of wine.  I have to be in the right frame of mind.  This is not a job to be tackled when tired or grumpy.  My heart must be open and my mood should be good.  Then, placing a large book on my lap to function as a table, I can begin. 

The writing of the Christmas Cards should never be rushed.  It is something to do carefully and with thought.  If you have a variety of card designs it is important to match the right card with the right recipient.  Before you have written one word, your choice of card already says something for you.  In my case I usually buy cards from an animal charity which will go to friends who I know have pets.  It’s probably not a great idea to send a cute kitty card to someone who hates cats!   I also usually buy cards with the message ‘as Gaeilge’ and well as ‘as Bearla’ and a lot of these cards will go overseas. 

There is no excuse not to buy a charity card.  Most charities sell them so there is a huge variety.  And remember to buy direct from the charity rather than give a department store a cut of the price also.  When I receive cards it is always interesting to see what charities friends are supporting.  A non charity is card is bad form. 

The writing of the card is where many people really let themselves down.  Merely scribbling your signature on the bottom is really not on – I would prefer no card than to receive such an impersonal non effort.  If you are sending cards - do it right.

A good pen is important.  But no matter how brilliant the pen is, it still can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.  So take your time and ‘do your best writing’.  And begin by always addressing those to whom you are sending the card.  So your card should start with a ‘Dear’ or ‘To’.....

Then please - write an actual message. This is the whole point of sending a card and it’s worth putting in a bit of thought into.  Usually I find that my Christmas Card recipients fall into a few distinct categories.  There are those who you see regularly and to whom a nice wish for the festive season and perhaps the coming year is appropriate.  Then there are those people you no longer see regularly and so an extra line or two hoping all is well with them is a nice touch.  Finally there are those with whom you only correspond at Christmas.  I love this category because to me this group encapsulate the real meaning of the festive season.  These are old friends or family who you still hold dear and so it’s nice perhaps to write a short paragraph giving them a quick update on your affairs. 

To me this is what Christmas should be about - connecting with people.  It’s a once a year opportunity to tell those family and friends that you value them and to send them your best wishes.  I love to receive a chatty, newsy card.

So to finish.... are you a ‘love from’ or a ‘best wishes’ person?  Either are OK but do write all the names from whom this card comes.  In other words don’t be attempted to do initials.  It’s OK to shorten the entire family to ‘and family’ or similar and this particularly can be handy when you have lost track of the recipients children.

Finally – addressing the envelope.  I have only one thing to say about this!  Women are people too.  They are not extensions of their husband.  If I get a card addressing me as Mrs Paul Sherwood it’s going in the bin.  I think that’s clear enough.

But do send cards.  And if I haven’t convinced you, then please don’t bother including me for one of those awful virtual cards via Facebook or Email.  You know the ones that play dire music and have cutesy animation.  THEY ARE NOT CARDS. 

Cards are written by hand and are delivered by the postman.  But best of all they can be displayed in your home suffusing your living space with their good wishes and festive cheer.  So do send a card.... but do it right.

GLOWING EMBERS

The current talk of an electiricty strike brought this piece to mind. 

 It was broadcast in 2002 on Lyric FM

The morning did not start like any other.  I felt the bitter cold as soon as I put my nose outside the duvet.  Our house was never cold in the morning.  Like most, our heating system swung into action while we were still dreaming, thus ensuring we always greeted a new day in the comfort of temperatures worthy of springtime in the Mediterranean.  Not today.  Today I knew it was a raw February morning.  My breath formed little clouds as I hurried through the Siberian temperatures to investigate what had happened to the heating.  As I became more awake I realised it was not just the heating but all the electrical appliances that were inactive at 8am on this Sunday morning.  We had a power failure. 

                                                                                                  

My two small children had followed me downstairs and were standing in their bare feet and light nightwear, shivering and wondering why there was no breakfast on the way.  The house was oddly quiet. 

My first priority was to combat the cold and so I set about lighting a fire, something we usually only did on special occasions, such as Christmas or when we are having guests over on a winter evening.  There was great excitement as we set the fire and the children ran back upstairs to get their dressing gowns and slippers and a blanket to wrap themselves in on the sofa. 

“Can we watch Barney mom” they asked and I gave a quick and simple explanation of electricity, which like air, only seems important when there’s none. 

“Well can we have our toast now?.”   I was about to explain about the toaster also needing electricity when I remembered that we could make toast at the fire.  Bread, butter, jam and a long handled fork were assembled on the coffee table and I positioned myself on a low stool at the hearth and began to hold the bread towards the flames.

The children giggled excitedly under their blanket mesmerised by the flames and intoxicated by the smell of the slowly grilling toast.  Our world had condensed into this small area of delicious heat and light around the fire.  The only sound was of their little voices, marvelling at this unexpected adventure at breakfast time and the crackling of the fire.  We were joined by the cat, freshly returned from her nocturnal wanderings.  Cold and tired, relishing this unusual luxury, she laid her weary bones on the hearthrug at my feet.

It was a precious moment of pure contentment.  One of those moments when God seems to make a simple but very direct attempt to strip away the distractions of life, distilling it down to the core.  He then says very clearly, remember this moment.  This is what is precious.

Held in this moment of time, suspended in the firelight, I am transported back to the days of my own childhood.  I remember it was my father who taught me how to set a fire and my mother who had first held my bread to the fire to toast it.  I have a moment of supreme clarity when the threads linking me with the past, with my parents and grandparents are as tangible as the flames which dance in the grate.  I look into my children’s eyes and strain to see the threads stretch into their future, to their fireside and my own grandchildren.  

HAPPY HALLOWEEN TO ALL WITCHES

The cover of the Culture Magazine of The Sunday Times last weekend caught me attention as it featured a stunning photo of Dame Judi Dench who is currently starring in the movie ‘Philomena’ which opened recently in cinemas in Ireland.  Amid the sea of perfectly enhanced faces we normally see on the cover of magazines Ms Dench’s portrait is refreshingly beautiful in what I hope is an honest way.   

There is currently an ad on TV which begins by a woman announcing that she is growing old gracefully to her friend who in turn says that she would like to grow old disgracefully.  There are a number of women in the conversation mentioning things like glowing from within.  However just about the time that you the viewer is harbouring an inner glow in the hope that this is another refreshingly honest take on older women – they mention some bloody serum that ‘really works’.  A fact they know because of the ‘second looks’ they get.  Ta Dah... plus ca change?

The message stays the same – women must fight ageing all the way and remember that our worth is entirely dependent on how good, i.e. youthful we look.  The results of this ‘war on ageing’ can be seen every week on The X Factor as Ms Osborne resorts to jumping about a lot to make up for the fact that her face is not quite as mobile as it should be.  Madonna is another example of someone who is maybe winning the war on ageing by beginning to look extraordinary... anyone remember the series from the 80s called V (about reptilian people).  And then there is or was Cher... well.  I rest my case.

My husband is a photographer and he often says that women who have ‘had work done’ (God be with the days when that meant the addition of a conservatory) might look young from a distance but that up close they scare the bejaysus out of him.  

It’s beyond time that real women (who like me, even if I could afford ‘work’ I am way more afraid of looking odd than looking old) took a stand and retrieved women’s middle and senior years as being just as valid as their youth.

In ancient mythology woman was represented by the Triple Goddess of The Maiden, The Mother and The Crone.  The triple spiral found in ancient Ireland is said to be a representation of triumvirate view of woman.  The maiden was of course revered for her physical youth and beauty, the mother respected as the nurturer and carer.  And the Crone was respected for her wisdom.  But it was this wise and powerful woman, this Crone that became hijacked over the centuries to become the evil witch capable of knowing the unknown and of dastardly deeds.  By the middle ages she was a witch with evil powers but at least she had power.  In today’s society the older woman has been reduced to nothing.  Age is seen as entirely negative and we must fight to remain young....  to the point of cutting and pasting of our faces.

British actress Kristin Scott Thomas who is 53 spoke this summer about how she feels invisible and not just when she is in the company of younger co-stars but even walking down the street or among strangers.  And if someone as well known, as accomplished an actress, as beautiful as Ms Scott Thomas feels like that what about the rest of us?

Ageing is seen by modern society as failure, particularly for women.  And it seems to me that modern, older women are content to accept this as fact and to undergo surgery and injecting poisons in order to attempt to delay the inevitable?   This fact depresses me far more than noticing my lines and wrinkles.

Tomorrow we celebrate the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain.  Samhain marked the end of the harvest but it is also the time when we celebrate the Goddess as Crone. 

So amid the mayhem and madness this is time for older women to retrieve their true power.  We are in many ways at the pinnacle of our real power.  We have been around the block a few times; we have lived, perhaps given birth and raised children.  We have worked, we have loved, we have cried and we have laughed.  We have gathered wisdom and stories along the way.

The Crone stage is not the end.  It is a new beginning.  It is time women to step into your power, don your witch’s hat and scream it from the rooftops.  WE ARE WISE POWERFUL WOMEN...as for invisible... only if you allow yourself to be.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN....

THE HEN HOUSE BEGINS ON DUBLIN SOUTH FM

I am delighted that one of my ambitions came to fruition this week when I presented my first radio programme, THE HEN HOUSE on Dublin South FM.

I will be presenting The Hen House every Wednesday at 4pm when I will spend the hour in the company of some very interesting women.

My first guest was Jillian Godsil.  You can listen here http://dublinsouthfm.ie/shows/267/The-Hen-House

Enjoy.... and I would love to know what you think!

Barbara

REFERENDUM RESULT : A VICTORY FOR THE PEOPLE

As I write the result of the Seanad Referendum has just been announced.  The country has voted No to abolishing Seanad Eireann.  Reform – well that’s a whole other day’s work, particularly since Enda stated clearly that a No vote will not result in this Government undertaking any reform of the second house.

I am personally much cheered by the independence of mind shown by the Irish electorate on this issue. Against the massed armies of Sinn Fein, Fine Gael and Labour we had only Fianna Fail as a party urging a ‘No’ vote.  Fianna Fail, who are still taking baby steps back towards their rehabilitation with the electorate, certainly seemed to have judged the zeitgeist just right.  But it would be foolish for Michael Martin or any of his colleagues to get too excited about the victory of their side over the Government parties and the only other party of opposition in this referendum.  In my opinion although Martin performed ably during the two TV debates, this is not his victory. 

What is important about the result of the Seanad referendum was the range of independent, credible and passionate voices on the No side.  Probably most prominent of these was Professor John Crowne whose insightful intelligent contributions were hugely important in this debate.  Senator Katherine Zappone was another voice who articulated her view with zeal and enthusiasm.  Duirmuid Ferriter too and in the latter days of the campaign poet Theo Dorgan also spoke out to retain the Seanad.   

Political parties would be wise to learn that the electorate of this country are not stupid.  We don’t like being bullied into making a decision on a matter that no one was campaigning about.  We were cajoled into believing that abolishing the second house would save us €20m and allow us to enjoy sacking a load of politicians.  As a nation of bullshitters, we see right through bullshit.

As we stand at the beginning of the decade of commemoration of the events which lead to Ireland gaining her freedom, it is heartening to know that we continue to value that freedom and our democracy.  We might be a bit slow to protest against unfair austerity but we have shown that we do cherish the very freedom that the last Government pawned in order to pay the gambling debts of a bust bank. 

So Michael Martin – you judged it right and you ran a good campaign.  But this is not your victory.  The victory is the peoples.  And the people, mirroring events almost a century ago were led by academics, thinkers, poets and doctors.  What we need now are new political leaders.  If this folly of a referendum is to teach us anything it must be that!