#55.20 - Return to Aghalee

Was Portmore created by a meteor?
Seems likely right?

Yesterday I was in the Ballinderry area, so I went to Portmore Lough. I hadn't been there for nearly eight years. In fact the last time I was there I wasn't working at Steiner. That's how long it had been. I don't know what I expected to see. I know that Kevin had been working there for ages...

The drive to Portmore was full of memories. Memories, mostly of Eddie. Remembering every road we had driven together, talking and laughing, often with Oisin. Sometimes with both him and Ghin. We had been to every pub in the area for lunch. If I ever did call into Portmore, I'd go see Eddie. Honestly, working in the RSPB was not hard compared to working in school. Teaching is hard graft.

There were no levels of stress apart from the ones that idiots gave you. I literally loved my job. Admittedly it did get a bit boring - I mean how many Big Garden Bird Watches can you do right?

But as I drove there, I remembered every bridge, every house, even the lay of the land. How flat it was. I also felt something else I had never noticed before - that the land was ancient. I could feel how OLD the place was. Eddie always told me this - that Portmore had a stone near its old church which had a carving of a one armed, one eyed being on it - this, he said was a meteor which had probably crashed and created Portmore.

I was too new in Ireland to understand this - but I understand the significance now.

We used to walk around the reserve and he'd explain every ditch and every pipe to me... why he did what he did. I also remember him telling me how the RSPB ended up there... it seemed a weird place to be, of course... but it turns out... well that would take another blog post of its own.

It was a different time, a gentler time... Northern Ireland was a wilder, more ungovernable place. Everywhere was. We'd watch the winter swans dream... and in the summer, we'd go walking in the fields and look at wildflowers. Eddie with his Scouse, and his un PC jokes and his wheezy laugh. He was taken too early really.

I still miss him.

I drove past Gawley's Gate. Then his little cottage. Someone else now lived there. Then I turned right and there we were. The place was really... I think the only thing that describes it properly was - it really looked run down. At no time at all, during the time I had been there did it ever look so unkempt. Maybe this was intentional. The loos looked shut. The carpark was now surrounded with scrub. I thought of Eddie, being so proud of the view from the carpark... that you could see the entire lough, how round it was, that you could see the birds from there.

I looked across to the 'office'. I honestly cannot remember why they built that place. All I remember is Michaela and John nearly killing themselves over that funding application. All the windows were closed. There was a really dirty pick up - Isuzu - white, allegedly - in the carpark - the only vehicle there. I could hardly see the hide from the carpark. If I was doing the PR I'd be livid - why sign post people here and give them this? Has something changed in the policy of making reserves welcoming?

I didn't understand why the carpark was allowed to scrub up like that?

The sensory garden was now a raddled lavender bush. I don't know what I expected, but I did not expect this. I remember walking through the field of corn and flowers, the giant bird table, as it were. and it was filled with linnets. The pond and the herbs Eddie had put in. I didn't go down because I had no time... I know this is the worst time of the year to see anything, but I really don't remember it being so desperately covered in algae. The signs were all bleached blue. Were they supposed to be that colour?

Who would be a warden, seriously? Understaffed and working at all hours. I knew the wardens, all of them really well, and that was all they ever did. They worked tirelessly. I mean they knew how to party hard and they were all nuts, but they never stopped working. Never. In the middle of the night they'd be up on fox patrol, they'd be battling storms, having to interface with the general public which were almost certainly the worst part of the fucking job. And they were badly paid.

They were good, genuine people. Very sad, also quite angry, despite their amazing jobs, for some reason. But good people. I made best friends with the wardens - sure Anthony became a godparent as recently as a month ago. Eddie and I became best mates. And well... man, I miss him.

The thing about the wardens is that you could always be real with them. I think that is because they encountered reality on a daily basis. They put their entire bodies into the work and they did it because they believed in it. They give their lives to the entire process. Sure they lead kickass lives, but I think that after awhile it could get a bit much. Should anyone be battling with a brushcutter at the age of 63? I did wonder about health a safety sometimes seeing Eddie wandering around the boggy plains of Portmore.

It is definitely a young person's game...all the health complaints they had. Also, accidents. How many times I'd call one of them and they'd managed to smash a thumb, knock themselves out, have an axe drop on their heads, use Roundup, been stranded somewhere? To be honest, they thought it was very macho to have these near death experiences. I see that now actually.

I thought of Eddie all the way back too... the trip I thought was going to be painful and awkward, especially if I met someone I didn't want to see, but actually it was just really sad. I'm sure the reserve will be looking its absolute best in two months time when everything comes back, but now, it looked so abandoned. No one was working on it, the most important time of year to work on it. The stunning vista where we could see ponies and birds over an endless sky was gone. Eddie used to talk about getting painting clubs down to do a day's painting across the Lough. It will probably not be back anytime soon...

I kinda wonder, did any other PR person after me ever get to know the reserves as well as I did? How many times had I been up Cuilcagh? Traveled down Lough Foyle? Sat at the hide of Portmore all by myself? I still visit Belfast Lough. I wonder...

I poured my heart and soul into that place and what did I get for it? Reading Voltaire's Bastards now I know that people who do this must never ever expect to be rewarded. If you are competent and happy, content and have no agenda, people will detest you for it. It is always the way of the world. What is her game, people say... I have no fucking game. I honestly have no game. I have never understood games. That is why I became a long-distance runner. I cycled myself. The person with no game is the most dangerous person of all.

That is why I sleep at night. Life is a gorgeous journey. I am the original Mr Curly. The point is, the joy of the job you love and find meaning in is reward enough. I have learned that general approbation and approval is pointless. It is nice to have, but fickle. And more often than not, people are damaged. I was going to say assholes, but yeah, they are damaged.

As I drove back, I remember Eddie telling me about the arches during the 12th. The 12th was often when we headed there cos he would run moth traps for us. We'd get to his garden and he'd open the trap and we'd be amazed at the largess of winged treasure. Garden Tigers, Hawk Moths, Gold Spots, the Emeralds... we'd sit in his beautiful garden filled with giant poppies of the most deliciously jeweled colours, birds feeding around us, jazz, tea and moths - it really was paradise. Eddie would be cracking some stupid joke - making apologies before it, of course - and I'd be rolling my eyes in disapproval which made him very happy. Oisin would be running around the garden, stumbling about - to be honest, Oisin grew up in the RSPB. He ha his most formative years there. Not so long that he became an RSPB brat, but just enough to give him good memories and a healthy love of nature. Ghin didn't have the RSPB, but he had Anthony, Kevin, Forest School and Gardening. I tried my best with what I had.

That is a lot of reminiscing. I am glad I left though. Because of what I went on to do. I'm not thrilled about the money side of things, but hopefully this is only temporary. But if I had never left, I would never have learned to teach, to know more about plants, about astronomy, I'd never have learned to knit, explored watercolour even more, delved into anthroposophy which can be argued saved my life, met all my sisters and grown closer to them, been with my sons - the most important bit - and was able to look after them, to watch them grow. To take good care of them. To ensure that I was always there, but also not. Until this moment, I didn't realise that that trip back to Portmore was almost like a moment that had been preserved in time - and it gave me perspective. To have stayed in the RSPB would have been wrong. For me personally, I don't know how else I would have grown. My greatest fear is growing stale and jaded in an organisation in which... well... it is good I have gone.

It was also healing. I am literally no longer angry with them. It has taken eight years, but I realised that I no longer bore them any ill will. I mean I am still disgusted on behalf of Anthony, but personally, no. I could not have stayed there much longer either way. I didn't leave on great terms, but that's maybe for the best because it had given me perspective. Everything happens for a reason, I see that.

I felt Eddie's presence so so deeply, especially as I passed his cottage. Sometimes you cannot see how much someone loves you until they are gone. I think I caught glimpses of Eddie's fondness for me while he was still alive - but I always just thought he was being polite. He wasn't just being polite. He had a great fondness for me and the boys.

Eddie really really cared. For everything.

About everything. So here's another tribute to Eddie. Hey Eddie, we miss you. And thank you. Thank you for being the wonderful person you are - yes, still are - and your stories, and your caring and all those tremendous memories. We love you.