unironedman

Those two words. They mean different things to different people, of course. For most engineering types, I suppose it just means the reading on a gauge is going north. I gather it also means to stretch the hole in one’s ear lobe to ever-larger diameters with jewellery. And something in gaming too.

For me and my brother, it means we have to get to work. It means we are once again a pair of youngsters, most likely out in the garden of Blackcastle – the family home – or perhaps it’s a Summer ‘nixer’ on a site somewhere. We are with our Dad, and we are under orders to mix up sand and cement for a small job. Possibly plastering a wall, or laying some blocks. There will be a large natty sheet of plywood that has long seen better days lying on the ground, and on it we will heap shovels of sand, and then cement, and possibly some lime.

We would be warned not to make it ‘green’ which I recall was due to us being a little flaithiúlach (generous) with the cement. Though I could be mis-remembering. We were also a little fearful of the lime, too. Certain jobs required different mixes, but all started with Dad’s instruction to ‘gauge up!’

He did possess a large petrol cement mixer when he was a building contractor, and this was certainly a boon for larger jobs. But for the smaller work, a board, a shovel and some elbow grease would suffice. As a novice ‘nipper’, I would gaze nervously at the dry pile of mixed sand and cement in which our Dad would create a caldera. This would be filled with water and the mixing would begin. It took me a while to realise that, counterintuitively, one can avoid creating a muddy flood by spreading the heap rather than desperately shovelling little temporary damns to shore up the leaks which would only make the mountain rise and the subsequent lake ever-more likely to burst. And it was definitely a badge of shame to have a serious leak!

The gauge up phrase came to mind on Mother’s Day, oddly enough. We were doing a roast beef dinner for the family, including Mum, of course, and I was making the onion sauce, as per Dad’s recipe. And he would often sit down at the table and declare the onion sauce to be a ‘good gauge!’

And so this weekend, I was once again doing some blockwork out in the garden, and rather than bother with borrowing a mixer from work, I just mixed by hand. And it got me thinking about how much ‘stuff’ (which was a generic term for sand and cement mortar) Dad would have mixed and /or used in his lifetime, and what that heap would look like if you were standing beside it. I’ll never know, of course.

And Dad was in our minds a lot this week for more obvious reasons, as it was his birthday on 27th March. To remember him, Mum treated us all to pizza and cake, and we sat in the old homestead and had a feast. And I smile as type this, as Dad would often dismiss pizza as fancy cheese on toast.

I did get my three runs in this week, though I should point out that my current ‘week’ starts on a Tuesday. That’s because I have Mondays off from work (though this will change back to Saturdays shortly). When your weekend starts on a Sunday, I think it’s only fair to consider Monday as the end of the week, rather than the start. My total distance was rather paltry (a 10k, 6k and an 8k this evening) but the long run was skipped in favour of important family business, so that’s ok.

With all the rather bizarre and gloomy news emanating from across the pond in the US of A, it was rather pleasant to get some good news from that side of the world for a change. Gary (who blogs here as ‘i like margarine’) received some positive news from his oncologist. Which means we all get to enjoy more fab tales of running, ice cream and shoes. Indeed, shoes have been the chief topic on this blog recently, and I would just like to add that I too had a pair of Adidas Roms. Though I don’t share the nostalgic love, I admit. And the thought of actually trying to run in them fills me with horror (really? horror? ed).

Anyway, here’s to Gary. 🙂

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For Matt Cromer x