The Quiet Ripple Defines The Pond

Real pleasure comes from pain. There is no joy without misery. Drink Chateau Lafitte everyday and it becomes mundane, er, so they say. It is the ebb and flow of life that generates satisfaction.

After Aughrim’s great disaster when your foe in sooth was master
It was you who first plunged in and swam the Shannon’s boiling flood
And through Sliabh Bloom’s dark passes you led our Gallowglasses
Although the hungry Saxon wolves were howling for your blood

And as we crossed Tipperary we rived the clan O’Laoghaire
And drove a creach before us as our horsemen onwards came
With our swords and spears we’d gore them through flood and light we bored them
Ah but Seán Ó duibhir a’Ghleanna we were worsted in the game

Long long we kept the hillside our couch hard by the rillside
The sturdy knotted oaken boughs our curtain overhead
The summer’s blaze we laughed at the winter’s snows we scoffed at
And trusted in our sharpened swords to win us daily bread

But the Dutchmen’s troops came round us through fire and ball they bound us
And blazed the woods and valleys ’til the very sky was flame
Still our long sharp swords cut through them in their very hearts we hewed them
Ah but Seán Ó Duibhir a’Ghleanna we were worsted in the game

Here’s a health to yours and my king the sovereign to our liking
And to Sarsfield underneath whose flag once more we’ll take a chance
That the morning’s tide may find us across the seas and win us
A place to stand and wield the brand among the sons of France

And as we part in sorrow a Seán Ó Duibhir a Chara
Our hope is God Save Ireland pour blessings on her name
May her sons be true when needed may they never fail as we did
Ah but Seán Ó duibhir a’Ghleanna we were worsted in the game

Although I was worsted in the game when last I attempted to buy a boat.

https://quietripple.wordpress.com/2013/05/30/many-a-sliptwixt-cup-and-lip/

Although all seemed lost, I persevered, like Robert the Bruce. My reward? A boat even better than she who broke my heart.

Ikeda san and Chinen san and my boat.

I need a boat of 3.33 metres. Longer than that you enter the realm of inspection, licences and other Tolkeinian foes. I want a boat I can row, a boat that I can haul up on the beach in front my house.

Chinen san runs a truly chaotic boat place. Old boats lie scattered around. Outboard motors, whose souls have already left, hang on racks. However once Ikeda san, a distinguished colleague, explains my broken heart, Chinen san is on the case and finds me a boat in a couple of days.

I pick her up in a truck I have been able to borrow.

Chinen san checks the lashings.

I drive her to her new home. She seems to take it well although it must be traumatizing for her.

Devant chez moi.

Hisashi helps me unload.

“Rosencrantz: We might as well be dead. Do you think death could possibly be a boat?
Guildenstern: No, no, no… Death is…not. Death isn’t. You take my meaning. Death is the ultimate negative. Not-being. You can’t not-be on a boat.
Rosencrantz: I’ve frequently not been on boats.
Guildenstern: No, no, no–what you’ve been is not on boats.”

I think I will paint her with deep blue hull, dark red interior and white seats.

There are now 3 kayaks and one boat in front of my house.

Ma joie demeure.