Welcome to Stories & Reflections

These are a collection of my stories & poems. I started at a young age writing in the early 50's. They weren't up to any great standard, but I enjoyed writing and they have improved with age.

My first poem went:

Oh my darling, oh my dear,
I love you like a bottle of beer.
Even though you are a flop,
I'd go as far as drink Soda Pop.
Pretty profound, don't ya think? At least I knew Rhyme and meter. Or as my Aussie friend would say, Pitch & Time.

From time to time I will include poetry or a story that I really enjoy. Submit a poem or story to tink43@tcsn.net and if apropriate it will be include.

Don't forget to give an opinion...

Make sure you check your cinches...

Chuck Martin



Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Clabahan, Pudding, & Trains

“Clabahan, Pudding, & Trains”
Chuck Martin

“Whadaya like for breakfast?” Billy asked.
“What do you have?”
“We got aigs, bycon, ham, oatmeal, puddin’…, ” he said.
Pudding, I thought, it’s funny they’d have pudding for breakfast in Ireland. I wondered what kind, chocolate, tapioca, vanilla. We were going to Ireland the next month, to spend time in my friend Billy Hyland’s home and travel by train around the country. He lived in Garryhinch, Portarlington, located in Offaly County, in the midlands.
Billy picked us up at the Dublin Airport, and drove on a freeway, and on narrow roads through many mazes of hedge rows, seemingly both at the same speed. Driving by each church, graveyard, or a long-ago accident scene, Billy would cross himself. With an air of relief we arrived safely at his home in the country, met by Billy’s wife Maeve, and five year old, son, Johnny.
When they visited us in the states, Johnny was fascinated by our parakeet. He wanted to see him fly, so he banged on both sides of the cage. Feathers flew everywhere. I yelled, “Johnny, stop banging that cage!” He marched up to me announcing, “Ya’ve broke me heart, ya clabahan.”
I asked Billy, “What’s a clabahan?”
“Oh, it means something like nin-com-poop. His grand father calls him that all the time.”
The next morning after arriving, Maeve fixed breakfast consisting of eggs, a mountain of red skinned potatoes, and soda bread. “Want some puddin’?” Maeve asked.
“Sure,” Laurene, and I answered.
She placed two small, round pieces of meat on my plate, one white and one black.. Pudding in Ireland is not “pudding” as we know it. It is a sausage. Both tasted dreadful. It was quite hard swallowing, I hoped my look of displeasure didn’t give my distaste away.
My wife, Laurene, and I were to travel by train in Ireland. We planned on making a round trip to the coast and back. The day after arriving Billy drove us around the mid-lands and we had a great time visiting and adjusting to a new country.
The night before we were to embark on our train ride Billy took us to his “pub”. Everyone in Ireland has their own pub, and Billy’s was named, “The High Chaparral” after our TV show. Billy bought the rounds, and we sat there drinking Gunnies and chatting. I said I’d buy the next round, and ordered at the bar. The barman put a pint glass up to the spout, filled it up, and sat it down in front of me. When I picked it up to take a drink the barman reached over, slapped my hand, and took the drink away. “It’s not done!,” he shouted. He took my drink and refilled it. You have to wait for the foam to go down, and then it’s to be refilled. Shame on you if you try to drink it before it’s “Done!”.
The next morning Billy took us to the train station in Portarlington, but had to leave before the train arrived. “Billy, trains on time?”
“No, no, never!” Billy said seriously walking away toward his car.
A train pulled in right on schedule. Well, I thought, Billy’s wrong, it’s right on time.
The seats on Irish trains face each other, with a table between you and the other passengers. Across sat a young lassie with red hair, a freckled face, and wearing a green and tan uniform. The girl said she was returning home from collage.
I relaxed and looking out the window saw cloudy skies, green hills and meadows. I figured the train must be doing 90 as I would see a train coming our way, and within a blink of an eye, and a swoosh, it would zip by.
“Where you folks going?,” the lass asked.
“Cork,” Laurene said.
“Oh,” eyes wide the girl exclaimed, “You’re on the wrong train!”
“Where’s this one going,?” I asked.
“Why, Galway, sir.”
“Well then,” I said, “ we’re going to Galway. You see, it doesn’t matter. Turning back to look out the window, I thought, Billy was right, trains aren’t on time in Ireland.
I love Ireland; the green country side; the friendly people; the pubs; the trains; and a cold Gunnies. I decidedly do not like Irish pudding for breakfast. It is made of blood and offal. I looked up offal and found it to be the edible, internal organs of an animal. I guess they named Offaly County, Ireland, after their pudding. I had noticed Laurene, had taken a small bite, and pushed it away. I thought, “You should have done the same, you Clabahan.”

4 comments:

Leah-Mae said...

Howdy Chuck,

some interesting new posts... laughed 'til i cried!

anyway, ta fer the laughs, keep 'em comin' please!

cheers, Leah Mae.

Chuck Martin said...

leah-mae,

Thank's for the comment. Seems like I get a lot of people reading but only you and a buddy write...
Do you have Ofal pudding in Australia? I could maybe, kinda' sorta' get used to eating it...Naw!

Chuck

Leah-Mae said...

G'Day,

Nah chuck, no offal- thats fer dog-food!
-only blood pudding- but its not really around anymore- grandmothers are a bit more sympathetic to recent generations i reckon!

a tip, if you want comments, give comments, browse a blog, let 'em know what you thought of it and they're likely to go back an' check out yours!!!

*smiles*
Leah-Mae.

Dom S. said...

Amazing and really interesting the way you explain and express it all. Makes me laugh and pulls me in for more.

I think I would really like Ireland, the landscape, the people and the pubs.

When my daughters were very young we use to watch "The Quiet Man" every time in came on the TV. Now they live in Virginia and it's all green. When I visit and I look out the window of the plane as it approches Dulles I think of "The Quiet Man" and all the green.

Thanks for bringing me some pleasant memories.

See you at "the Pub" Friday night.