Sligo

 

The Craft and Sewing Basket was a delight, I went there straight off the bus, and met the lovely Mary and Gabriela. They do classes, repairs, and groups and it felt really happy there, the infectious kind. And welcoming. Of course you would come here for yarn and fabrics over the glitziest of websites. Talked with the twinkle eyed Mary about the world of wool- thrown away some places and then imported from others. It's not rational, let alone sustainable. I got some delicious green marl spun in Donegal yarns, for Wild Atlantic yarns.

I had a strange time in Sligo. It's very pretty. The Polish shop is the best I've seen outside of Poland. I found some sweets I had forgotten how good they taste. It was my day between two nights at the same place, and I changed my accommodation to in the town, cos I found the suburb a bit eerie. This was the day I couldn't really be fully on the Atlantic Thread. It was Sunday, and no shops to visit...I had work work I needed to do and life work I needed to do, so I didn't expect to be present, and stayed in hotel a lot, in my laptop and in my phone. I was grateful to be alone, and yet unusually for me, I felt lonely at points. It's a feeling I never get in nature, but I do occasionally experience in a town. I found some lovely locally made pottery for someone who will really like it, and the people of Sligo couldn't have been friendlier.

After the wool shop, I went to the Swagman for fish and chips. I didn't expect to see kangaroo on the menu, but reader, I did. I met the Australian owner briefly, he was so welcoming, he bashed his knee on the bar reaching out to shake my hand. I really wanted to take the pain away. You know when you just feel that someone's a good 'un, and they really shouldn't, of all the people in the world, be yelping in pain. 

I don't know if it was starting there, or something about the buildings, or if it was shadows of London and my past, but I kept feeling like I was in Australia when I was in Sligo. I can't put my finger on it, maybe it was the layout of the town?3 I think maybe I just finally understood quite how Irish Australia is. I spent a lot of time in WA, and I couldn't believe how people had described it as England in the sun. I found it much more Mediterranean, but I've found another chunk of the jigsaw of a place which had been, for me, a bit puzzling. I let myself feel some nostalgia for the good times there. WA is incredibly beautiful, as is Ireland. I thought about Hazel, in Toodyay, with her alpaca farm and mill. I thought of my former in laws, and the Perth hills at sunrise, and allowed myself to feel that thing that I'm sure there will be a word on German for. Not quite nostalgia, and definitely not hiraeth. The acknowledgment of very happy memories without any desire to go back to them.

I got my work done, lots of crochet, got on with my embroidery, and I had some deeply painful communications. And yet, so far away, alone and full headed, I felt safe in Sligo. Thank you Sligo. My grandma was from a Sligo family- travellers? There were assertions of both yes and no, and what does it matter anyway. She had a London Mum who died when she was a baby. She was brought up in Dalston by her Irish aunt and her Italian boyfriend, Giuseppe-'Mary-you-are-a-wixen'- Battistessa. Great great aunt Mary sounds fun. My grandma Kathleen McLoughlin had a pet sheep for while in the garden until the council made her get rid of it. She was a great knitter. She died six weeks before I was born, and I often think about how painful it must have been for my Mum to be grieving with a baby. I always wanted to take away her pain too. Something here looked after me anyway. 

The sun came out on Sunday afternoon, and I got the bus to the beach. It was glorious, and I had a quick dip. Cold! I did that thing that my crochet compadre, Harriot Knuckles tells me. When you have a decision to make, immerse yourself in freezing water, and the answer will come. It was inconclusive. I understood that I was asking the wrong question.

Such a pretty town to walk in that evening. It was very much Sunday, but sunshiney- the river is gorgeous to gaze at. I feel ready to come out of my head and back on the road. Early bus, and on to Donegal...what will tomorrow bring?