Do other 22 year olds go vistin'?

This week, decidedly bored of the bus journey home which takes an inexplicably long time, I remained in Galway on my days off work.Theme of the week was having a proper dinner and so Wednesday found me at a friend's house for dinner. I had dazzled her (Michelle, best friend,native of Mayo) the previous evening with my extensive skills in the kitchen and she felt obliged the following evening to repay the favour. Armed with tea brack, I set off across the city and was greeted at the red front door of Michelle's house by my host and the aroma of her legendary chicken casserole. It may be of interest to the reader that Michelle's house is beside a house with a green door-when I first visited I was deliriously happy at this fact.

On the bus journey from the 'shticks' I eyed the tea brack through the plastic bag sitting on my lap and mourned the seemingly lost tradition of going visitin'. Passing peers struggling with lethal heels down Galway's Shop Street, I wondered if any of them went to friends houses to drink tea, and talk of domestic matters of cooking etc. I raised the matter with Michelle who repeated my question, what do other 22 year olds think of or do?

While she attended to the finishing touches of the meal, I spied some interesting, but sadly neglected looking cook books on the upper shelf of the shelves home to the delph and glassware. There were the usual student cookbooks, vegetarian themed books, guides to Italian cuisine etc, all of which failed to interest me; what did catch my eye however was a simple bound volume whose title followed the lines of 'recipes from family and friends from around the world'. It was produced sometime in 2005 for the benefit of some group or other, but its style and layout reminded me of an old cookbook my mother was given by her aunt who lived in Chicago years back, a cookbook from some Christian women's society I think. I only ever consulted it when bored, or looking for the correct wording to the rhyme about children and the days of the week on which they were born which featured in the back.

While my amigo switched on the kettle for tea I proceeded to read aloud some of the 'useful hints', which were more humorous than they were useful. Many of them involved reviving not so glamorous looking vegetables (we suggested eating them before they required 'dressing up'), what to do with leftovers (we suggested trying not to put on food for half the parish when there was only a few people for dinner) . After suffering grievous injuries from laughing at the absurd suggestions of the book, one could only conclude that the authors of these hints had far too much time on their hands and should find some other means of occupying their time, perhaps a job of some sort or a hobby. I tried to avoid the word job, career etc as I'm trying to dissuade my friend from her notions of a 'career', or an education. She would be far better perfecting her bread making and praying for a good husband to look after her than reading the gobbildy gook in her chemistry books. Despite her protests, I believe she is starting to come to her senses-she is taking up sewing and is learning to make an apron! Also when I offered my assistance in the kitchen she told me to get in to 'my rightful place by the kitchen sink' and help peel the spuds for dinner.

I have again veered off tangent but I will come back to the issue of what a typical 22 year old thinks of at some later date. For now I wish you well.

Tara,Domestic Mayo Goddess

Captain's Log...Intro Entry

Before I begin, I would beg the reader to be gentle as this is my first blog entry.

Hello there fellow bloggers and readers of blogs (I am as yet unaware of the correct ettiquette in regards to blogging, and ask forgiveness for any foolish errors) This is the first entry of Out the Shticks. I hear some people in the back wondering about the title-or perhaps not, but I will pretend there was a querey. To explain that, I must tell you a little about myself.

I currently reside in Galway city, but hail from beautiful North Mayo (Crossmolina to be precise..actually if we are insistent on accurarcy, I'm from 3 miles outside Crossmolina, in Castlehill). I am very proud to be from Mayo, some say this pride borders on fanaticism-I will address this matter at a later date. As a proud Mayo woman, I am still tolerant of other members of our society, such as people from Galway and Sligo, but find that a line is to be drawn at natives of a certain place by the name of Kerry (with a number of noted exceptions).

My current abode is on the outskirts of the city, in close proximity to the 'shticks'. Hailing from the 'shticks' of North Mayo and having a deep affinity with those from similar areas, I thought it only fiting to title my blog as such. Actually, to be honest, I had contemplated the title 'Blog from the Bog' for a moment, but decided against it.

I'm not sure what the purpose of this particular blog is yet, or if it indeed needs a purpose to justify its existence. I guess I'm writing this to while away the time until I find out if I get offered a course at NUIG next year, while working part time in the cinema. For now I sign off and read this over after posting it, knowing full well I will want to cancel the whole thing.

Adieu

Tara

P.S It is best to reveal to you all now that I am simply a disaster for veering off in non-related tangents and forgetting my train of thought mid-sentence. But hopefully I will relay such anecdotes as will distract you from my intial point until I recall it myself and then proceed to scold you for not paying attention in the first place.