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The Red and the Green

September 18, 2018 by EmmaP 2 Comments

England and Ireland – they’re different. As a child I’d always grasp this when I looked around a street in Dublin or London and saw a postbox. Irish postboxes are green and in England (and Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland) they’re red.

To the Irish eye, this English red can seem brash, a show of strength and a reminder of how these boxes were once found all over the British empire, built to work as nodes in a vast web of communication. The green of an Irish postbox – built in the same shapes and sizes, standalone pillars and stuck into walls – seem more humble, bringing a sense of ease, gentleness, nature.

The red of England (thought by some to represent the dragon’s blood of the cross of St George) is everywhere you look in the UK: London buses, phone boxes, Beefeaters, the Red Arrows, Red Ensign, the England jersey, Virgin. Even the Irish Guard – the British Army regiment served by Irish citizens and official guard of the Queen – have bright red uniforms.

Understandably, when Ireland gained independence from Great Britain in 1922, the new Irish government went mad turning things green: postboxes, buses, phone boxes, soldiers’ uniforms, and on to today with St Patricks’ Day* beer and our sport heroes, known as the Boys/Women/Girls in Green.

As for postboxes.

They were introduced in England by Anthony Trollope – novelist and yes, post office worker – after he saw the idea in France. Once penny postage was introduced in England in 1840, the postal service took off and postboxes were put in place in the 1850s for people to avoid trekking to the post office and to take pressure off postal workers.

And here’s the thing. English postboxes started off as green. This was to make them blend “pleasingly” into the landscape. But after a few years it was decided they didn’t stand out enough so red was chosen as a good strong colour and in 1874 someone went around the country (and Ireland) to paint them all red.

Ireland got its first postboxes in 1855 (in Belfast, Ballymena and Dublin) so technically these were green, then red, and then green again after 1922. Many Irish boxes still show the marks of old Empire: ER (Edward Rex), GR (George Rex), VR (Victoria Regina) and the scripts of the Irish P&T and An Post. But look very closely and you might still see a hint of red paint peeking from underneath the green.

 

English postboxes are coloured “pillarbox red” (or RGB 223, 52, 57) and the Irish ones – well they were painted whatever green was available when the paint job was done.

During the 2016 commemorations of the 1916 Easter Rising, some postboxes in Dublin were painted red–and people noticed the difference.

My romantic side likes to think how of the many letters and parcels sent back and forth between Ireland and England – catalogues for silk dresses, newspapers, books, and letters between families. But think of how many stories of poverty and loneliness and despair were also communicated.

Inside and out, how much history between two countries can you fit into one old cast-iron box?

*The green is not really connected to St Patrick – for centuries the colour most associated with him was blue, but green has been the dominant colour of Irish nationalism since the late 18th century.

 

Filed Under: Dublin, Ireland, Travel Tagged With: England, Ireland, Postbox

A very Good Friday

March 30, 2018 by EmmaP Leave a Comment

About 20 years ago today I was home from London for Easter. I was really excited to finally show two friends around Dublin for the weekend, where they had a few days before heading off to the greener west. Obviously the first thing we had to plan was which famous Dublin pub to head to for the evening. And then my mum intervened: “but sure all the pubs are closed, it’s Good Friday”. I’d never noticed this fact before, even though it happened every year. What a backward country, I thought, but my friends had the foresight to see it for what is was – a strong, even charming, tradition. And they insisted they were happy to play pictionary over tea instead.

And now today, in 2018, we have arrived in the modern age. The pubs are open on Good Friday for the first time in 90 years. The government voted on it in January though not everyone is happy about it.

A couple of towns have seen their pubs band together, declaring they will keep the tradition and stay shut, and the locals are fine with that. One pub in Dublin is donating all their proceeds to charity – I would happily have gone there.

We went out for lunch in our local – a very low-key local place that few tourists would venture into but which they would probably adore for its (very) soft couches, quiet hum, community feel, and the well-cooked beef in the carvery. Today it was busier than usual.

I looked at the other punters around to see if they were choosing to abstain anyway. The many old ladies were drinking fizzy orange or tea or water, but maybe they always do. And two young lads near us were drinking full pints of Ribena (blackcurrant squash) while plenty of others were having beer or wine. The pint in the photo was my husband’s, mine was the fizzy water.

When vetted on the issue, our waitress (Maureen, according to my Dad) said she thinks the change feels  strange – “it’s tradition, you know”. She figures the public were pushing for it, though the government liked to say it was for the “tourists”. But either way, there’s expected to be an exodus over the Northern Ireland border today, to the sweet tune of about €20 million. The opening hours there are still quite restricted so they must really need a drink two days before Easter. Perhaps to line the tummies before all that chocolate.

Still, at least the car park at the local church was jam-packed as we passed it on the way home. Or were they all just going to confession?

 

 

Filed Under: Dublin, Moving to Ireland, Travel Tagged With: Good Friday, Ireland, Pub

My Morning Cuppa

April 24, 2017 by EmmaP Leave a Comment

It was lovely to see the Irish Times publish my story last weekend about daily habit of drinking Irish tea. The exact same brand of tea, for over 20 years.

Photo taken in Dublin and sent to me via WhatsApp before being treated in Instagram

The story started as a way to work out why I still drink the same tea, carrying it back with me in my suitcase or having my Dad post it on from Dublin. In whatever foreign country I’ve been living in.

Order it online and you get it nicely bubble-wrapped

Tea is a big drink in Ireland, with a history that’s similar but a bit different to that of England. There was an interesting article about it in the Times a few years ago – how the Second World War changed habits and routes.

This tattered, old tea-cosy was knitted about 20 years ago by my auntie Meldy. My mum also attempted to make one from the same pattern but it took her 2 years (and would probably take me about 5). The cosy rang a bell with an Irish friend who saw the picture, she also has one made by her Aunt, also a Loreto nun. So we figure this is a Loreto pattern and probably adorns teapots around the world. Anyway, it keeps the tea warm.

I have a few other tea cosies – maybe their history deserves its own blog post. Stay tuned!

Filed Under: Food, Irish, Italy Tagged With: Ireland, Tea

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I write about language and the quirks of our family life in Dublin and previously in Florence and Oslo. My day job is translating from Italian to English, and proofreading.  Read More…

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Wash Your Language is at The Gaiety Theatre.

1 week ago

Wash Your Language

Took a break at the interval from the panto mayhem at the Gaiety Theatre and I was drawn to this beautiful portrait outside the bar. It’s Margaret Burke Sheridan (or “Peggy from Mayo” as she always called herself). She was a top soprano in the 1920s, working between Rome and Covent Garden. Puccini apparently swooned at her Madama Butterfly and she made famous recordings of it. She turned down the offer of a Papal Countess (I’d love to know why), and ended up living a quiet life in the Shelbourne Hotel. I found a nice story on her at https://irishtimes.com/life-and-style/abroad/… ... See MoreSee Less

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Wash Your Language

2 weeks ago

Wash Your Language

Here's a fun thread on Twitter about weird #Irish expressions of vagueness from the excellent @theirishfor page.
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Not sure if this is something that happens elsewhere but as a child if I asked my Nana “why?” she would reply “that’s the why.” Or if I was asking her where something was it would be “up in Nellie’s room behind the wallpaper.”

What are your favourite Irish vague non answers?

Here are a few of the answers:

Whenever I'd ask where my mam was, my dad would always respond with "she's run off to marry a soldier" lol

What's for dinner? Cats malacky and dogs melodian
What am I getting for Christmas? A bang of a drum, a kick in the bum, and a Chase around the table

Where are you going ?
Off on a bee’s back for a spin !!

Actual conversation I had in the Gaeltacht:
Me: do you know what time the bus is?
Man: ah don't worry now, there'll be a bus!

Where are you going Mammy? "Out of my mind for the want of sense"

Mam, your legs are looking a bit pale...yes, well that’s the sun...🧐
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Motherfoclóir: Hiberno-English Mark on Twitter

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“Not sure if this is something that happens elsewhere but as a child if I asked my Nana “why?” she would reply “that’s the why.” Or if I was asking her where something was it would be “u...
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Wash Your Language

2 weeks ago

Wash Your Language

Rome's most beautiful bookshop closes its doors ... See MoreSee Less

Rome's most beautiful bookshop closes its doors

www.wantedinrome.com

Rome's Libreria del Viaggiatore, which specialises in travel books and is considered by many as the city's most beautiful bookshop, will close its doors for good on 31 December 2019.
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Wash my language?

Språkvask is the Norwegian word for proofing text. Literally it means “language wash”; a more poetic way of saying it!

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