Sun 26th Dec 2010. St Stephen’s Day (otherwise known as Boxing Day)

I’m propped up in bed and its 6.30am, still pitch black.Gene is sound asleep. We’re at the farm. It’s picture perfect.  Mummy Hegarty, Mary, is wonderful. It’s hard to tell her age though she’s probably younger than she looks. Angela has her eyes and probably looks most like her. The children are clearly devoted to her and it must be tough for her to be without her husband who died almost a decade ago. The eldest of the Hegarty clan is James.  He’s quiet, works the farm and so spends lots of time outside in the cold. He's a good looking young bloke and seems much taken with Eva, a striking looking woman, from a neighbouring farm.  He’s a consummate builder and Gene and I are staying in his luxury home (the Mullingar Hilton), built from scratch by James, right next door to Ange’s place.  Then there’s our mate Angela, completely unaware of her own extraordinary beauty and intellect and much missed by the family. I’ll talk more about her and her man Enda as we get closer to the wedding. She’s followed by her sister Marion, married to Rishi and back for the wedding from the Philippines. Rishi is Indian from Rajasthan and one of the most laid back blokes you’ll even meet. Witty as the weather’s wet, he’s the perfect match for Marion.  Marion is the boss. She has a shock of curly hair, eyes to die for, and more energy than the boys put together (me included). This is a good looking family. Next is John, an environmental scientist, currently enrolled in the Etienne school of job hunting, and again a tall, handsome young bloke, more understated than many and probably manages to stay under the radar most of the time, He’s a talent waiting to be discovered. After John is Ashling, the youngest, who’s almost completed her studies in psychiatric nursing and is so lovely you constantly feel like giving her a hug. She’s also full of info on the farm, drives an Audi and has a shine for Danny, which she showed by promptly falling asleep on the lounge the moment he came round to see her last night. 

We arrived on Xmas eve at the Hegarty’s after the eventful trip from London. Their house is a two storey farm house located almost in the very centre of Ireland down a narrow road in County Westmeath in a little place called Balrath. It's location is the Irish equivalent of Uluru (Ayers Rock) in Central Australia. The whole place was covered in snow. It was freezing outside, so to walk into their lounge room with an open fire, the Xmas tree sitting pretty in the corner, the family welcoming us like long lost friends with hot tea and food quickly appearing, was perfect. Life doesn’t get much better. That was all we saw of the house on Xmas Eve, but the next morning we were straight into the kitchen/dining room and soon discovered that the house is large and full of space and spaces. You can easily sit a dozen or more in the kitchen.  It’s heated, like all the rooms in the house by peat/turf, collected manually from the bog each summer and stored in vast piles in sheds outside. It’s quite a sight. The peat is placed into a range (otherwise known as a stove or oven) and acts as both a heater and a cooker. Tucked out of sight from the main kitchen is what appears to be a second, smaller kitchen with another range for more cooking.  Upstairs are the bedrooms and one of the largest bathrooms I’ve ever seen.  The place is warm and cosy and makes you feel like you want to stay. I understand from listening to Ange however that the windows have not that long been double glazed, the lounge room has impressive new curtains, and various other renovations have made it warmer than anyone remembers it being when they were children.

Xmas Day began with an early run for me. I’m not supposed to be running until April but I chanced me arm (& my knee) with a walk and about 2kms of slow running.  It felt good.  It was cold though as the snow was still thick on the ground and the road was a touch icy.Then back to the house, wake Gene and over to Ange’s for breakfast, followed by 10.30am mass at one of the many churches in the area.  It’s good to see that mass in Ireland is about as flat as it was when I last went some years back in Sydney. The priest was as dull as the English weather, the choir was made up of spinsters who couldn’t sing, fantasized that they could and knew how to put in a mediocre effort. The only members of the congregation who seemed even slightly animated were the kids and they paid even less attention to proceedings than the adults. Mary Hegarty does her best to get the family along to church on Sundays & she succeeded with flying colours on Xmas Day, even managing to get me along, a feat my mother hasn't been able to achieve for years.

After mass we headed off to the lake to partake in the annual Xmas Day swim. The lake is vast and was completely covered by ice. So no swimming, but it was thick enough to walk on and with the sky a brilliant blue and the sun shining, the whole picture was stunning. A crowd of locals were turning up for the swim and all were disappointed that it wasn’t to be. We then headed back towards Balrath and on the way visited Granny Hegarty’s old home, which covered in snow and quiet, was picture postcard in its perfection. We topped that off with a stop at the canal and the local cemetery and then headed back home where cooking for Xmas dinner started in earnest. The turkey was raised by a neighbouring 14yr old kid who runs a little business supplying locals with organic turkeys (as in the turkeys wandered around the farm fattening up on whatever it is turkeys eat, before they’re slaughtered and sold for Xmas dinner). Suffice to say the turkey was perfect. The girls seemed to spend all day cooking while I hung out with Ashling and John watching DVDs of Father Ted and Dara O’Brian.  It doesn't get much better. Dinner was wonderful. Turkey, ham, spuds, veggies, special stuffed peppers for vegetarian Rishi, followed by chocolates, biscuits other assorted sweet things and the perfect cup of tea. 

We were joined at dinner by Vincent, the neighbour from up the road who is an older, single bloke.  He didn’t have much to say, but was kind enough to ask me where I came from.  Sydney, Australia I replied. After some time thinking about that, Vincent tells me he has an aunt living out there.  I asked where?  Long Island says Vincent. That’s wonderful says I, not wanting any further clarity and being worried about where the conversation would take us. Then he brought it to an abrupt halt anyway by announcing that his aunt was dead. 

Sunday started off with breakfast in the Hegarty kitchen which by day 3 was a ritual I really looked forward to. The cereal was perfect for me. The toast was thick and covered in honey, the tea was hot and the mandarins were a cleansing way to finish it off.  We then went down the road to the Curran’s place for a shower as the cold had frozen the pipes as there was no running water. That afternoon we had a nanna nap & after dinner went into town to the pub to meet up with Cliona, Marcella & Marc. We started off at Danny Byrne's pub then headed up to County Casey's where we met with quite a few people who’ll be at the wedding. Cliona was back in Mullingar from Perth (for good) and she looked a million dollars. Marcella is about 4 months pregnant and over the moon & the three girls were clearly happy to be spending time with each other. It was a good night and we got back home at about 11.30pm. Ange was feeling a little worse for wear as she’s been battling the flu, hence the early night. We dropped her off at home in the lashing rain.  Unusually, the place was locked up with Mary away in town to collect Rishi and Marion. Luckily I decided to wait until Ange was safely inside and against both her and Gene’s advice, I stayed.  Eventually Ange jumped back in the car and we ended up taking her back to James’ place with us, tucking her into bed and waiting for Mary and co to turn up 40 minutes later to collect her. Not the best way to fight the flu but she’s not a complainer and took it all in her stride.  Signing off for now.