Picnic Times: The leader of a cruise foe and a preference of a best …

August 28, 2015 - Picnic Time

There was a shining response to a reader foe for cruise stories, memories and recipes – interjection to everybody who got involved. You can review a preference of a best entries below. The leader was Holly Lynott (10) who wins a esteem of a dual night mangle in a Powerscourt Hotel, Co Wicklow including a oppulance picnic.

Picnic Times winning entry: THE BES T PICNIC EVER we would like to tell we about a best cruise we ever had. we am entering a foe for my Mómo, as she pennyless her ankle and could not come on a picnic.

It was a poetic balmy day in Renvyle Connemara, County Galway. we was on my Summer holidays during my Mómo and Dadó’s house, my grandparents. Me and my hermit Shane motionless to go for a picnic, though couldn’t confirm on a place to have it. Then my Dado suggested that we have it adult during White Rock where he had his picnics as a tiny child 60 years ago. White Rock is a vast White Rock during a unequivocally tip of a towering that my Mómo and Dadó live during a bottom of. My Mum had packaged a cruise basket with a same reduction my Dado had in his basket when he was a boy. There were 5 eggs in a tiny tin of beans, a crate of apple juice, some cups, 5 eggcups, a saucepan to boil a eggs in, a bottle of H2O to boil a eggs and 5 spoons.

We also packaged another bag that reason wood, journal and matches for lighting a tiny glow to boil a eggs. Once a cruise basket was packed, me, Shane, Dadó, my Mum and my tiny cousin Charlie started to stand a mountain. It looked a prolonged approach adult though we done it.

Once we were during a tip my Dad illuminated a tiny glow with a timber and newspaper. We boiled a eggs and baked a beans and common them out. When all had been demolished, we looked around during a extraordinary perspective and a ease sea. It was a best cruise we ever had.

Holly Lynott, age 10, Connemara, Co Galway

THE SWIMMING POOL IN BLACKROCK The outdoor, seawater swimming pool in Blackrock, Co Louth, was Ireland’s initial 50m pool. The dressing-room walls were buttercup yellow; a grey petrify building always wet was a tact belligerent for athlete’s feet and verrucas. The toilets smelled of Jeyes Fluid. The pool itself was Mediterranean blue.

We swam there all summer. Mum had an ancient Volkswagen Beetle. She ferried her fruit – my dual brothers and me – in a afternoons from a mid- 1960s to a early 1970s. She brought a tartan rug, that she had been given as a marriage present. There was always some arrange of cruise to feed us after a swim. Why couldn’t she do picnics like other mothers? The customary transport in a 1960s: white sliced-pan ham sandwiches. Mother had to be different: hard-boiled eggs, overpass rolls, tomatoes, scallions, lettuce and Heinz salad cream. Then angel cakes with pinkish butter icing. A square cut out of a tip of any bun was cut in half and positioned as moth wings on tip of a icing. She smashed them adult on Fridays, her baking day. Knives, forks, plates, all piled into a card box.

Occasionally I’d float a length of a pool. we elite to stay during a shoal end. Daddy’s difference ranted in my mind: “Can we put your feet down?”

Sitges, Benidorm and Fuengirola took over from “the Rock”. The pool tighten down with a appearance of indoor, exhilarated swimming pools. There’s now a retard of apartments on a site of a aged pool; they have views of a Coolies, Mournes and Ravensdale forest. In winter a brent geese feed on a mussel beds during a finish of a village. Migrating waders, gulls and ducks live a strand.

Mimi Goodman, Clonskeagh, Dublin

A GRAND CUP OF TAY Living rurally with 3 tiny children, we venerate holding them by fields on summer days, picnic-basket filled with treats (and healthy break thrown in so we don’t feel like a bad mammy). Packing adult to ramble home, I’m blissful if they enjoyed many of a day though indeed murdering any other. we wistfully suppose them fondly remembering their childhood as one prolonged happy picnic.

However, a best cruise ever was on a bitingly cold, dim winter evening. Simply a flask of tea, tuna/sweetcorn/mayonnaise sandwiches and a chocolate bar. Since my aged father-in-law’s mom died we all demeanour after him though sadly his nights are waste with customarily radio for company. He hasn’t an pain nor pain, a customarily signs of ever-increasing age being corns and cataracts. Wobbling solemnly to us on his bicycle, it’s a daily spectacle that it stays upright. He wants to live to 100; he customarily might.

One night he watched a programme about a restoration of a Longford Cathedral once gutted by fire. He pronounced he’d venerate to revisit it. We non-committedly pronounced we’d move him whenever we ‘got a time’. Eventually, one Sunday, we did. Amazed and grateful, he feasted his eyes on a excellence of it all. Afterwards, off to a playground. Waiting while a children played, cold from water-logged weed and misty atmosphere seeped into a skeleton and dripped from a noses. Out from a car-boot came a picnic. Proffered sandwich and mop of singe were energetically accepted.

“That’s a grand crater of tay, Liz”, he said.

“It tis, John”.

“Grand sandwich”.

“It’s good to have it”, we agreed.

As we warmed adult physically and spiritually, a children happily clamoured for theirs. Finishing with a chocolate, we piled behind into a car, fan-heater blasting. ‘Must move him again sometime’, we mused.

Elizabeth Murray, Creggane, Co Roscommon

THE PERFECT PICNIC Mammy gave birth to a 4 of us within 5 years, and in a childhood memories, she is always bustling busily in a background. Dad worked prolonged hours too, in his day job, and she helped him on a smallholding, on that we kept hens and “grew a own”. Every tack we wore was homemade, and a click of needlework needles and sound of a Singer sewing appurtenance were a soundtracks to a nights.

So it was, that we frequency got “Sit down peculiarity time” with Mam. However, one Summer morning we overheard Dad vagrant her to “Get a lot of them out of here”, as he was going to paint downstairs.

Mam packaged a vast basket, and immediately announced that we were going on an all day picnic. Yipee! What fad we felt as we reached The Hilly Field, that was customarily a right of approach opposite a road, and laid down a aged patched purple blanket. How critical we felt as we snacked ceaselessly on a unconstrained bounty. Everything tasted so many improved in a uninformed air. We shelled hard-boiled eggs, savoured sandwiches of a home-grown salads, and sipped homemade unfeeling soup and thereafter drinks done from a possess red, black and white currants. Mam’s jam was piled thickly onto palatable scones, a raisins and cherries seeping their juices (her tip was to soak them overnight).

The object shone down as we cuddled close, while Mam suggested a lighter side that we hadn’t glimpsed before. She regaled us with stories and songs, rhymes and riddles, while resting, creation daisy chains, after races and games of censor and seek.

All day, we were wrapped in a cocoon of a mother’s venerate and amount courtesy during that ideal picnic, that is a memory we treasure.

Margaret Loughlin, Ferrybridge, Clarina, Co. Limerick.

PICNICS ON INISFALLEN On a seaside of Lough Léin in Killarney, holding a golden reins of a pretentious white stead, Niamh swayed Finn, out sport with a Fianna, to let his vast son, Oisín, transport to Tír na nOg to live with her. So a fable goes, and when you’re there, where forested plateau cradle a lustrous H2O braggadocio twenty-nine islands, we can roughly trust it.

During a sixth century, fascinated monks built an Abbey on Inisfallen Island where, in nature’s rest, they stoical their world-renowned Annals. Deer ramble plentifully there now, though mass is still pronounced yearly by a ruins.

While we grew adult on a operative farm, my father favourite to fish. His rowing-boat was vast adequate to fit half a dozen people. With a cruise cumulative on planks of timber underneath, a rod would route a line in a H2O lapping opposite a sides. Sometimes a fish or salmon would bite. Any locate was kept cold in a pail of water.

The vessel would eventually muck opposite a manmade jetty and be cumulative with a wire tied to a post. Beyond a grassy clearing, mill walls beckoned. We would scurry underneath a archways, by openings, collecting twigs for a fire, started with journal brought for a purpose.

Tea leaves were tossed into H2O in a steel kettle, blackened from use. Over a flames, it was shortly steaming. From a basket, mom would expose a fritter of bread, and cut it. The stuffing consisted of butter with tomato or corn beef.

Simple as it sounds, zero tasted better. We drank from lead mugs. Dessert was a honeyed or biscuit. Speech was optional. Chaffinches and bumblebees entertained us.

Afterwards a glow was delicately quenched. The lapse outing to Ross Castle rekindled a excitement, and distinct bad Oisín’s fate, customarily went though hitch. Caroline Hurley, Donabate, Co Dublin

PICNICS OF MY 90S PAST When we hear a word “picnic”, it brings me behind to simper times of my 1990 to early 2000s youth. Back in a good aged days when record was deliberate a novelty, picnics were a ultimate source of enjoyment. Every summer my relatives brought a 4 of us out to Donadea timberland in County Kildare, a ultimate cruise destination.

Even as a immature child, we always appreciated a pleasing woodlands, a chronological facilities and a many walkways and inlet trails within a forest. we was quite lustful of a “wishing bridge” that crossed over a lustrous lake in a sunshine. We went mostly in a summertime, in a balmy (and infrequently hot) Irish continue that always seems to have a zephyr that blew a likes of tissues and cosmetic crockery off a wooden cruise benches and checkered cruise rugs.

We used to move a automobile full of food and activities, from tennis rackets to frisbees to footballs and that velcro round and locate diversion that we used to venerate playing. Mam and Dad always brought a vast cooler box full of milk, cartons of juice, sandwiches, fruit and pots of petits filous yoghurts or frubes, along with a vast flask of tea, biscuits and a 6 container of hula hoops. There was a choice of ham, cheese or banana sandwiches, and infrequently even duck breast ones that was left over from a fry cooking if we were lucky! There’s a poetic café there where we used to buy ice pops or ice creams afterwards. The preference ranged from a aged propagandize Solero Shots , Sparkles, Fat Frogs and Spongebob Square Pants ice pops. we can still remember a uninformed scents of woodlands, sunscreen and grasslands as we reminisce on a best cruise days. Aoife Bennett, Co Kildare

THE PICNIC TO BEAT THEM ALL Mmmm… we wondered if he had a “Plan B”. My windscreen wipers waved frantically, struggling to transparent a pushing Jul sleet that would certainly scupper my boyfriend’s devise for a ‘picnic to kick all picnics.’

It was early days in a attribute and we knew he would be penetrating to impress. “Don’t worry about a picnic” we said, roughly apologetically, as he non-stop a front doorway with a contented smile. “I won’t” he replied; a puzzling laugh on his face. ‘Either this male has been so bustling picnic–packing that he hasn’t beheld a sleet or he “Should have left to Specsavers” ‘, we suspicion impishly.

“I betrothed we a picnic, and a cruise we shall have” he said, as he gestured towards a sitting room door. An zealous hill-walker himself, we was assured that some protecting rain-gear awaited me in a sitting room….. magnify him! we couldn’t have been some-more wrong. A Foxford cruise carpet was widespread on a floor, in front of a cosy fire. My eyes darted from salmon to salads, breads, spreads and cup-cakes. Every fact attended to: even cosmetic plates and cutlery, to supplement authenticity. Heck, he even had a stereo run on batteries and a camera on a tripod, for a essential ‘selfies’! A thermos flask of tea and a bottle of my favourite Chardonnay stood sentry on a cruise rug.

‘I could get used to this,’ we thought, as we tucked in to a gastronomic feast on a floor, preoccupied to a awful continue outside.

Yes indeed, it was a ‘picnic to kick all picnics’!

My beloved subsequently became my husband: ‘The father to kick all husbands’…though not literally of course!

An indoors picnic? Now there’s an suspicion for a Irish summers. Sinéad Tracey, County Leitrim

FLUSHED CHEEKS AND A FIRST DATE It was a initial date. A wander adult Keeper Hill to take in a views and any other. He told a fun as we left a automobile park, took reason of my palm with a punch line and didn’t let go until a limit dual hours later. Pack some food, he said. My carrier reason toonsbridge mozzarella, aged Serrano ham, plump irish tomatoes and a creatively baked ciabatta loaf. A few leaves of basil wrapped in kitchen paper, lustrous black wealth of kalamata olives and a bottle of good pinot noir finished my picnic. we customarily prayed he wasn’t a buffalo wings and cheese ‘n onion tayto form of guy.

The continue became some-more stormy as we climbed a track, ears and noses removing nipped in a wind, eyes streaming with tears. Stops on a approach adult authorised me to locate my exhale and him to locate my eye. we suspicion he was a many vast male we had ever seen, given we had my beanie pulled down low and a nose apropos red from a consistent wiping. At smallest my burning cheeks looked healthy.

At a summit, a damp obscurity had assimilated a clever wind. We scrambled over a stones surrounding a trig indicate for any preserve in a charge and hunkered down out of a gale. With cold hands we ripped chunks of bread, layered soothing tawny spoonfuls of cheese with slices of ham and bit into developed tomatoes. We wiped decrepit tomato extract off any others chins while eyeglasses of strangely cold red booze were poured. It was a feast of textures and tastes and we smiled during a sorcery of it all. As we repacked a rucksack, he leaned opposite and kissed me for a initial time. That was all a dessert we needed. Jeannie Buckland

OUR SUMMER PICNICS Every summer in Jul my parents, my sister, my brother, my Aunt, Uncle and dual cousins and my Granny, would conduct off on a summer holidays to Kilkee, Co Clare. Such excitement, dual automobile loads of a family and things pushing to a holiday residence and we will always remember a tour there.

We sat in a behind chair in some kind of Renault automobile and chatted, sang, played guessing games, and collected series image numbers as we motored on.

But a prominence of a prolonged tour was a stop off in Limerick Junction where we pulled in for a muck or a picnic.

Out came dual cruise tables, chairs for a adults and a carpet for us children.

But a food was something else, dual vast saucepans wrapped in tea towels full of feathery boiled new potatoes, smothered with butter (still warm) , second saucepan was garden peas with packet and butter. Two tupperware boxes full of boiled baked ham, fry baked chicken, stuffing and of march a common churned salad, with tough boiled eggs, scallions, tomatoes, and cucumber, salad cream, a feast in a making.

Afterwards my Aunt would furnish a vast apple or rhubarb spicy a vast flasks with tea already milked in them, what a meal, al fresco, no worries, highlight free, no mobile phone, customarily complacency in expectation of a illusory 3 week holiday ahead.

The many critical thing we remember was we were all loose and prepared to suffer a family holiday and this cruise was a starting point, such a elementary fun activity for everyone, and zero like a good out-of-date cruise in a sun.

Three generations, with 3 opposite sets of needs, all happy, all calm all full, and fervent to get on a highway again and continue a Summer holidays. Miriam Fortune,Trim, Co Meath.

LE PICNIC Life’s a cruise so they contend and so it seemed to us in this misty 1989 summer print in Versailles. We were all in a salad days, we and my now father had thrown adult dual permanent and pensionable jobs in Ireland to find tour in Paris (much to a fear of a families). The French venerate eating a l’exterieur and le pique-nique is an art form. Any guest we had (and there were many) was treated to a oppulance of a cruise where sleet could be generally ignored and a booze both inexpensive AND delicious. And so my regulation for a good cruise was born-a rug, bottle of red, uninformed baguette, a fry duck from a charcuterie, oozing a stately smell, patisserie that doesn’t season or squash, whatever fruit is best during a marketplace that day, a dollop of good company. We stayed there all day and into a night, there were fantastic fireworks given it was a anniversary of a French revolution. La strive was indeed belle.

25 years on, we all still venerate a good picnic-though now we opt for a cruise list as a creaking knees don’t do so good on damp grass. But hey, life’s still a picnic, you’ve customarily got to select a right spot. Anne Burke, Dublin

CODDLE AND RED LEMONADE Every year, come what competence with a weather, we’d container adult a car, collect a in laws, and along with children, dogs and blankets would try down to Brittas Bay.

One year it was so cold we packaged a outrageous pot of mollycoddle along with a common transport of roasted chicken, potato salad, Sheila’s apple tart, a uninformed collection loaf, 1lb of butter, red lemonade and adequate H2O to make dual vast pots of tea.

The faces of a other bad solidified tourists looking with ill secluded craving during us feasting on a mollycoddle underneath a preserve in a automobile park will stay with me for life. Ah what good memories!

Susan O’Byrne, Dublin

UNITED WE PICNIC

“We’ll stop during a subsequent cruise spot,” my Dad shouted during us, hardly heard over a sound of a sleet lashing down on a windscreen of a Datsun Cherry. It was 1985 and my brother, my relatives and we were on a annual event trek from Dublin to Kerry.

Every year my silent would optimistically container boiled eggs, duck sandwiches, hunks of red cheddar cheese and Yellow Pack crisps into Quinnsworth cosmetic bags. Oranges were always enclosed though frequency eaten. What we were unequivocally after was a 6 container of United Bars that would glance tantalisingly during us from a tip of a bags during my Mum’s feet in a front of a car.

Three hours into a tour we began to derrick a necks, perplexing to mark some recognizable landmark by a sleet that competence indicate a approach to a Forest cruise mark we had miraculously found a year before. Previous to that we had always “drummed up” (my Dad’s phrase) during a side of a highway while outrageous trucks done a flasks of prohibited tea tremble on a car’s bonnet.

Both front windows were far-reaching open, spitting unwashed mist during us when my hermit speckled a Forest. My Dad screeched a Datsun into retreat and we aquaplaned into a cruise mark where dual wooden tables materialised by a fog.

Coaxed out of a automobile by a guarantee of dual United Bars, my hermit and we sat resignedly in a relating raincoats and munched a speciality cheese hunks with frail coatings while a trucks sped furiously by customarily feet away.

Then, a Gods sang, a skies privileged and a object came out. To applaud we banged a eggs on a dais to flay them and my Mum burst open a bottle of Cream Soda. Then we expertly nibbled all a chocolate off a sides of a Uniteds before a sanctified object could warp it.

Food finished my Dad pressed a balderdash into a Quinnsworth bags and hopped merrily off to a bin. Within seconds he had returned, sprinting around a cruise tables followed by several mad and determined wasps who proceeded to wizz angrily adult his shirt. We ran, panicking and cheering behind to a car.

My bad Dad spent a remaining 3 hours of a tour hunched over a circle of a Datsun, his behind flaming with wasp stings. My hermit and we sat sated in a behind seat, glancing oblique during any other each few miles, gloomy a laughter.

Mum was cheering something from a front. “ Next year let’s customarily get chips,” she said. We never did.

Jan Doran, Gorey, Co Wexford

MAKING HAY AND PICNICS Every summer in between 1956-1962 my sister Teresa and we were educated by a mom to travel from a railway lodge to a plantation during Doon tighten to Borris-in-Ossory about a mile away. Our charge was to move tea and sandwiches to a Father and Uncles who were bustling creation grain in a 5 hactare margin opposite a railway. We unequivocally desired this time with propagandize sealed and looking brazen to a grain creation in July.

We crossed dual vast fields before nearing during a railway margin unaware a Slieve Bloom Mountains. There were dual poetic mill stepping styles during a iron embankment that we climbed over given demolished in 2012 with a complicated ascent by CIE for reserve of cattle crossing. Looking opposite a margin we would locate a glance of a dual high Uncles bustling forking a grain during full speed in box a sleet competence deplane on tip of their changed work to moderate and destroy their efforts.

Delighted with a attainment inspired and parched from a tough earthy work we all sat down with a backs to a grain cock and devoured a sandwiches my mom had done and drank tea from a finish white mugs. Bill would give us red lemonade stored in his hessian selling bag.

“That will do your lust good after a prolonged travel he would say.” The honeyed smelling incense of a grain was what we favourite many during this time of year mostly witnessing frogs jumping out during huge speed when a grain was being incited with a representation fork. we was advantageous to have such memories of summer picnics in a grain fields of Laois.

Mary Conliffe, Co. Kildare

PICNIC JOY AT THE SHELLY BANKS It was not a smell of new mown hay, not even cut grass, though rather a smell of a pumping hire (otherwise famous as a sewage works), that signified a vicinity of a cruise location.

As a child flourishing adult in Ringsend, we suspicion it was a smell of seaweed and it meant we were scarcely during a Shelly banks.We would strech a ESB hire where we filled a vast brownish-red finish teapot from a daub and attempted to enclose ourselves and not brief anything until we reached a spot.

At a Shelly Banks we were greeted by a smell of woodsmoke from a fires of people already on a strand. We collected sticks or whatever was fibbing about and duly illuminated a fire, on that a teapot of H2O was placed for boiling, and though that there could be no picnic.

The glow was coaxed into life with many floating on a one spark, while children of several ages had a dump in a sea. The reduction of tea leaves and sugarine was combined to a hot H2O and vibrating in out towels, we drank a best tea we ever tasted.

Large sliced vessel wrappers were non-stop and boiled egg sandwiches were upheld around followed by banana sandwiches, a bit squashed perhaps, though it did not impact a ambience in a slightest. This was a tastiest food a child could eat.

The break of a silt in a banana sandwich, even if we managed not to dump it on a silt was a minimal waste that could be now overcome by a sup of clever tea and a tainted ambience on all after a swim.

The prolonged travel to strech a mark is totally lost customarily a fun of attainment and a pleasureof a cruise remains.

Mary Doran

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