Dublin Days 2 and 3 - White Water and a torrent of the Black Stuff

Replete with new facts and having sampled a surfeit of Colgans, I left the Lucan Spa Hotel at lunchtime on Saturday (Day 2) and decided to take a stroll into the village to get some lunch and a taxi into Dublin. I'm glad I did. Lucan is tiny and very pretty with a river meandering through it, beautiful thatched buildings and small public park containing more wasps and jackdaws per square foot than anywhere else on the planet. No, seriously. You couldn't look at any blade of grass without suddenly noticing a wasp. And the local jackdaws, which all have a curious genetic quirk in having grey bodies, black heads and wings, took the role of pigeons, scampering around my feet looking for crumbs as I ate my sandwich.

Lovely isn't it? But lovelier was yet to come. Talking to some locals, I found out that there was a weir just half a mile out of the village that was 'worth visiting'. So I did just that and wasn't disappointed. It was beautiful. And look at that Irish weather! I actually sunburnt my nose a little.

You'll notice a couple of inflatable boats in the bottom picture. As I watched, four of these boats turned up and faced the tallest watery slope on the weir. I assume they were on a team building day or such-like. All I know is that they whooped and hollered with joy and satisfaction as each boat came up to the lip, the people inside threw their weight forward, and they tipped over the edge.

I spent a good couple of hours walking up and down the river, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine and occasionally stopping to sit and doodle and soak up the sights and sounds of the river. I was rewarded with glimpses of herons and the occasional electric blue/green flash of a diving kingfisher. Glorious. But then it was time to head back into Dublin for a bit of shopping, a few more little gallery visits (where, sadly, not much took my fancy) and then some posh nosh at the restaurant of the Schoolhouse Hotel in Swords. It seemed appropriate as Colgan means 'swordsman'.

I'd heard good things about the restaurant and Head Chef Francois Grelet. I wasn't disappointed. What a cracking meal it was and in lovely surroundings too. Beautiful fresh figs, air-cured ham from acorn-fed pigs, very possibly the tastiest bit of rabbit I've ever eaten (and I've eaten a lot) and a crème brulee so smooth and creamy it was like an angel melting on your tongue. A hearty recommendation from me if you're in Dublin. And very reasonably priced. Book early though - it's a small restaurant and it fills up very quickly. And that, barring a few more pints in the town centre, was it for Saturday.

Sunday began with a lazy lie-in, a full Irish breakfast (just like a full English but with Irish sausages and white pudding) and then a visit to the Guinness Storehouse, the public side of the huge brewery in St James's Gate. It's Ireland's Number One tourist attraction - no mean feat for what is, essentially, a brewery - but it is great fun. It's like Willy Wonka's factory, only with stout instead of candy.

It's really well thought-out and the audio visual stuff is first class. From the atrium - fashioned as if you're standing inside the world's largest pint glass (and which, we were told, would hold 14.3 million pints or 11 days' worth of drinking based upon the average number of pints consumed per day in Ireland alone) - you follow the creation of a pint up through seven floors. Starting with the basic ingredients - water, hops, barley etc. - you work your way up to the second floor where you can taste some Guinness in various foodstuffs in the canteen. The cakes and breads were good. The pies might as well have been filled with shoe heel rubber. The meat was appalling. However, I am told that the food in the fifth floor restaurant is much better. I missed that because I skipped straight up to the 7th floor Gravity Bar, a glass-walled circular room with Guinness on tap and a magnificent 360 degree view over the city. Why go straight there? Well, it so happens that Dublin was having a 'Flight Fest' and 30+ aircraft were due to fly up the Liffey. I figured the view from seven floors up would be pretty good.

It wasn't. That Aer Lingus jet is about as close as anything came. But, by then, I didn't really mind. You see, as part of your entrance fee, you get a token for a free pint that you can use anywhere on your tour. Many people, however, either didn't fancy it or don't like stout so, at the end of their tour, found themselves on the 7th floor with an unused token. And meeting a fat, bearded, genial Cornishman who liked a drop or two, they were happy to pass them on. I ended up drinking in there all afternoon without a cent passing over the bar. Sláinte!

I eventually staggered out of the bar and haphazardly did some of the rest of the tour, including attending the 'Guinness Academy' and learning how to pull the perfect pint. Which I did. And drank.

 

Finally, it was all over and time to sober up a bit and get to the airport for the flight home. I took a cab rather than the more traditional form of transport on offer.

A great weekend away and some new experiences under my belt.

May there be many more.

Dublin Day 1 - Meeting a Feeble, Love Locks and Molly Malone's shiny 'Cockles'

My long weekend in Dublin began on Friday 13th with a morning flight from Heathrow. I don't believe in any superstitious twaddle but even my normally sceptical mind was challenged by the various obstacles put in my way, most notably the appallingly-sequenced traffic lights at the M4 interchange roundabout. I was stuck in a queue for over an hour. Thankfully, I'd had the foresight to book myself in online so when I finally got to the airport, I could do a quick dash - well, as quick as having to pass through security allows - to my gate. A pleasant and uneventful flight time of 50 minutes later (British Airways - I've never had a bad time with them) and I was in Dublin. And, contrary to expectations, the Emerald Isle was enjoying glorious sunshine rather than rain.

I've been to Ireland quite a few times and it's rained every time. I guess, like my native Cornwall, it's because it's the first sizeable lump of land the rain clouds encounter after their trip across the sea from America. It's like being on a long drive when you're desperate for a wee; you take the first opportunity you find to offload. But not today! All was sunny and warm and I booked into my hotel in the Liffey Valley and took a bus ride into Dublin city.

Something that seems to be quite common over there is the tradition of 'love locks'; leaving a padlock with your name and that of a loved one on display. These were all clustered on the footbridge over the M50 motorway that I had to cross to get to the bus stop. There must have been, at a quick estimate, about 200 of them all clipped to the safety mesh. Many had obviously been there for a while as they were very rusty and the names had been weathered away.

Arriving in Dublin, I decided to have a bit of a walkabout - or, at least, as much of a walkabout as I could stand with my still swollen and troublesome foot. I started off, as many do, in the Historic Quarter that takes in the Grafton Street and Stephen Street shopping areas and the more Bohemian Temple Bar area.

There were lots of street performers - live music, magic and living statues particularly - and this group (above) were great fun. The big shopping Centre at Stephens Green had a great art gallery - The Green Gallery - upstairs and I was much taken with the work of Dublin-based Jonathan Knuttel whose cartoony style has some resonance with the sort of work I do. Here are some examples:

 

He's pretty popular - his larger canvasses, like those above, were on sale for €2,500 and even the smaller pieces were selling at €950. There's a larger one of his works at Dublin airport and he's handled by several galleries. I just loved the humour, the mix of paint textures and colours. You can see the textures more in this blow-up of Sushi by the Sea and one of his cat paintings:

The shopping centre was also hosting a group of artworks by Frank O'Dea for Dublin Fashion Week. I couldn't help noticing that the central figure's hands were on the wrong arms. Bad installation or a prank by locals?

 

 

 

Then it was on into Temple Bar, which has lots of small art galleries, some great pubs and restaurants and plenty of live music. I had a good old wander about and then settled in at the Ha'penny Bridge Inn by the river Liffey for several pints of Smithwick's Pale.

I bumped into New Zealand film director Danny Mulheron in the pub. He directed the 2012 horror comedy Fresh Meat and played the hippopotamus thing in Peter Jackson's Meet the Feebles, for which he was nominated for an award for 'best female character'. A really nice guy - we chatted for ages. Bizarrely, his best mate is the actor Mark Mitchinson, brother of my friend and QI colleague John Mitchinson ... who is also co-founder of Unbound, the publishers of my new book, which is all about curious connections. See? Everything really is joined up.

Incidentally, the whole 'love locks' thing I mentioned at the start is an issue in Dublin too as they keep appearing in large numbers on the many bridges over the Liffey; so much so that the council has been cutting them off for reasons of 'aesthetics and structural integrity'. Hmmm. More on the story here.

The day ended with a good meal at the Clarendon Bar and a last leisurely stroll around the city as the light faded. It's then, on the junction of Grafton Street and Suffolk Street, I came upon the statue of one of Dublin's more famous characters, sweet Molly Malone of 'cockles and mussels alive alive-o' fame.

The 'Tart with the Cart' or the 'Dolly with the Trolley', as she's known locally, was sculpted in 1988 by Jeanne Rynhart and is nicely done although Molly's head is way too large for her body. Maybe it was to make her head larger than her breasts which are rather prodigious and fairly spilling out of her bronze blouse. Apparently, the justification for this is that 'women breastfed publicly in Molly's time, breasts were popped out all over the place.' Hmm. All I know is that they are shinier than any other part of the statue so I guess they get 'polished' a lot. Anyway, if you want to know more, you can read about Molly Malone here for starters.

So that was Dublin Day 1. Day 2 (Saturday) and Day 3 consisted of International Colgan Day (see previous post) and visits to Lucan and Dublin, including the Guinness Brewery. More of that next blogpost.

All photos (c) Stevyn Colgan bar Molly Malone statue which is (c) 'Paddy' of  Paddy's Wagon (because my twilight photo was shite).

A Convocation of Colgans

Hello there. How're ya?

I've just come back from a long weekend in Dublin, having been invited to attend International Colgan Day. Yes indeed, it was the first ever gathering of Colgans (as far as we know), organised by Colgan family expert John Colgan and hosted by the owners of the Lucan Spa Hotel, the splendid Mr Frank Colgan and family.

Now, when I was a lad growing up in Cornwall I didn't know any Colgans other than my immediate family of Mum, Dad, brothers Si and Andy, Grandad Ted and Nanna Marjorie. That was it (we aren't a big family). There were no Colgan cousins, no Colgans in the phone book (even we were ex-directory due to Dad being a cop) and the only other Colgan I ever saw was a sound engineer called Michael Colgan who occasionally popped up in the credits of things like the Mission Impossible TV series and the films Saturday Night Fever and Bring me the Head of Alfredo Garcia. The very fact I remember those credits is testament to the impact they had on me; it really was very, very unusual to come across a Colgan that wasn't living in my house.

And that situation has continued to the present day. I joined the Met Police in London - an organisation of some 45,000 staff - but I was one of only two Colgans on the email system and the other was a distant cousin. My local telephone directory only showed two Colgans. It really isn't a common name. When Jenny Colgan, the popular 'chick lit' and, recently, Doctor Who author appeared on the scene, it sent a little thrill up and down my spine. Here, at last, was a Colgan who was famous! I no longer felt that we were quite so obscure as a family.

So, you can imagine my excitement upon receiving John's kind invite. A chance to meet a whole gaggle of Colgans? (I'm not sure what the collective noun should be - a coven? A convention? A cuddle maybe?) I had to be there. And so, I flew to Dublin on Friday 13th to join the gathering. I hoped the date wouldn't prove inauspicious.

I spent the Friday kicking about Dublin - I'll reserve my pictures and thoughts about that for the next blogpost. But on the Saturday, I headed out to the little village of Lucan, north of Dublin, for Colgan Day which, after having received the itinerary from John, had now turned into Colgan Weekend. Saturday began with a meet and greet and proceeded with a series of Powerpoint shows with names like So you're a Colgan? and Notable Colgan People.

The talks were really interesting. I already knew that Colgan was an occupational surname and that the name meant 'swordsman'. What I didn't know is that the names Culligan, Quilligan and Cologan are variants of the same name (there are around 30 different spellings). There's a link to the word 'quill' too as the 'Col' of Colgan derives from the Gaelic 'Cuill' which means a blade shape, as in swords and, indeed, feathers. I also heard that the oldest written reference to a Colgan was from the 7th century and that he was the son of 'Coite the Destroyer'. That's pretty cool isn't it? In my mind's eye I see a character who looks something like Conan ... Colgan the Barbarian?

I also discovered that there is a Canarian branch of the Colgans based in Tenerife. In the late 17th century Juan Cólogan White (John Colgan White) followed the lead of many Irishmen looking for new horizons and business opportunities and ended up in the Canary Islands as they were well positioned for the shipping trade routes. He soon became a major player in Puerto de la Cruz, Tenerife (two streets are named after him), and sired a new dynasty. This is him:

Eight generations later, Carlos Cólogan Soriano has researched and published a huge book on the subject. There is also a link between the Canarian Cólogans and Agatha Christie too. You can read about it on Carlos's blog here.

 

We also learned about US Senator John Colgan, the rise and fall (literally in the case of Flights 9446 and 3407) of the Colgan Air airline, and about the town of Colgan  in North Dakota, USA. John was also able to show us the robes and regalia of Joseph Colgan, once the Archbishop of Madras (1886-1911). And then there was the huge contribution to natural history made by Nathaniel Colgan (1851-1919) who, among his many accomplishments, was the man who identified what shamrock actually is - either lesser clover (Trifolium dubium) or white clover (Trifolium repens). You can read all about it here.

 



Around 80 Colgans turned up for the gathering, some from as far afield as America and Canada. And it was fascinating to chat with many of them and to try to work out how closely they were related to me. The Colgans are mostly to be found around Dublin, Westmeath and Offaly but my branch begins with my grandfather Ted who was first a Sligo man, then Belfast before settling in Cornwall and founding the Cornish 'branch' of the tree. I couldn't find anyone connected to Ted although one of the Americans suspected that his father may have been my grandfather's cousin. It's something to follow up on. There are also lots of Australian Colgans. Sadly, the event was organised too late for any to travel over for it but there is a comprehensive self-published book in existence that details the Australian/Irish link called The Colgans in Australia.

I stayed for the morning but ducked out of the rest of the weekend. Saturday afternoon consisted of a walking tour of notable Colgan-related premises in Dublin. And Sunday was an organised coach trip around other Colgan-y residences in Kildare, Offaly and Westmeath including Lady Chapel and cemetery, Kilcock brewery, house and school, Cappagh House, Horseleap new RC Church, Moate Priory, Convent and private cemetery, Donore House and Ballyhast House. My foot is still not quite healed since my tumble in Edinburgh and I wasn't up for it, sadly.

Nevertheless, a fascinating opportunity and lovely to meet so many other people who share my name. It's the largest number of Colgans I've ever been with and will probably not be topped in my lifetime.

Unless they have another International Colgan Day of course.