Day 8: Still Sick

This morning at around 9 I left Killarney heading toward Limerick. And promptly got stuck motionless for 30 minutes due to road work. I didn't get to Limerick until nearly 12.

My first stop was at the South Court Hotel which is supposed to have a large antiques and craft fair, only I didn't notice that the fair is scheduled for Sunday, not today. My second stop was at the Hunt Museum, listed as a top destination on tripadvisor. Even though the hotel was "straight down the road, can't miss it", it once again took me an additional half hour of driving around - missing the museum, looking for a place to park - to get there.

Not the Hunt Muesum

Not the Hunt Museum

Also Not the Hunt Museum

As far as the museum goes: eh. It's an eclectic collection that was originally the private collection of some rich guy. The individual items might be interesting if you see them at a friend's house, but in a rich guy's house, or castle, or in a museum dedicated to just this guy's stuff, I feel like I'm watching Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. It's voyeurism; not deep enough to give any real history or be especially interesting. I can't stand castle tours for that reason; I have to pay a rich guy to see his stuff? Please.

Now, if the collection of historical items, jewelery, ceramics, paintings, etc were divided up among the national museums, each added to the proper collection, I would feel differently.

And that's the way Yehuda c's it.

Poetry

Anyhoo, the real reason I thought it might be worth my while to check out the museum in the first place was that there was supposed to be a poetry reading at 2:30. In this case, I had the right date, and the poet in question showed up only a few minutes late. Funnily enough, no one else turned up, so I was the entire audience.

The poet in question was a man named Barney Sheehan, who doesn't have much of his own poetry (I think). He runs a poetry reading night Wed nights at the White House pub in Limerick for the last ten years, which has apparently attracted some good Irish talent. Barney came to read selections from a book he created/edited containing pictures, quotations, and poetry from Desmond O'Grady, a man who counts as influences his personal relationships with Ezra Pound and others. O'Grady is still alive, but doesn't get out much.

Barney was thrilled to meet me, as someone from Israel and someone who has tried to organize poetry readings (and who has written some poetry of his own). Barney spent too much time reading the introductory notes and quotations from the book and not enough time reading the actual poems; he was proud of his work and it was important to him to impress on me the importance of Desmond. It didn't matter much, as I enjoyed meeting him and listening to him. And I got to read a few more of the poems while other people were wandering around us, viewing the exhibits and talking.

He was kind enough to gift me a copy of a different book containing poems read at the White House during the first years of the poetry gathering. He really wanted/wants me to come back to the gathering tonight, but I'm too sick. If I get out at all, I'll poke my nose around Castleconnell, which is where I'm staying.

Tomorrow it's back to Dublin.