A trip to the Southern Star’s West Cork Business and Tourism Awards pitch night reminded our columnist of her own part in her father’s business, and how important it is to shop local.
I HAD the pleasure of attending The Southern Star’s West Cork Business and Tourism Awards pitch night last week, and what a fabulous evening it was. It took place in Ludgate in Skibbereen and featured an eclectic mix of 26 shortlisted businesses, across eight awards categories, who each had to tell their story in three minutes. Each finalist was more impressive than the next – and I was only glad that I wasn’t a judge! I’m always in awe of anyone who sets up their own business – I know for sure I wouldn’t have the nerve, or the tenacity for all the ups and downs, and twists and turns it involves. My dad had his own business and we all had our own little role to play in it. When I say little, I do mean little, as mine really only involved answering the phone.
This would have been pre-mobile phone days and we were trained to always get a name and a number from the caller which, given that there’s so many West Cork dialects out there, was harder than you might imagine. If you could establish the reason for the call you were in line for employee of the week (it was a milking machine business and I do remember lots of calls about augers, even if I’ve still no idea what they are to this day!). If all else failed, we were taught to ask the customer the most important question of all: ‘Can you milk?’ as that helped establish the level of emergency involved. All the details would be written down in a diary and handed over when my dad would get back and I definitely remember a few choice words being exchanged if my receptionist skills left a bit to be desired!
Listening to the stories of some of the shortlisted businesses the other night took me back, as they outlined how it’s all hands on deck as family-run businesses, whether you like it or not, have a habit of spilling into everyday life. I remember various communion days, Christmas days, birthdays etc being hijacked by call-outs, and I definitely remember us being late for lots of things! It didn’t matter where we were going, either, there’d always be a quick (that was open to interpretation) detour to some farmyard or other to sort something out.
Listening to all the finalists’ stories, it was a great reminder how lucky we are to have so many gutsy, tenacious people in our communities who are willing to take a chance on an idea, or who provide invaluable services. It was also a reminder to support and shop local this Christmas – and if you’re as disorganised as myself there’s still plenty of time.
Another little outing I had this week was to our local school’s nativity – hands down, it’s one of my favourite parts of Christmas. What can I say, I’m a simple soul, but I really look forward to it. Obviously, I love seeing my own smallie do her bit, but each and every one of the kids on the stage are a pure joy. I even have to wear my hair down to disguise the fact that I’m sobbing away to myself! In the world of showbusiness, you’re never supposed to work with children or animals; thankfully teachers don’t listen to that advice – applause to everyone.
While we were on a roll, we went to see the man himself. Way back on a roasting hot day in August we toyed with the idea of going to Lapland, which never materialised (shocker), then in November we tried to book some so-called full-on, all-singing, all-dancing festive experience up the country, which never happened either, so last Sunday we took a spin to Skibbereen Garden Centre and, along with our cousins, met Santa and had a super time. He was a very insightful Santa who had all the time in the world for us, and it was another reminder that very often what’s on our own doorstep is best.
So it was a busy enough week, all in all, especially as I had a touch of lurgy and was feeling a bit sorry for myself (no one else was, so needs must). I always find it absolutely gas, that on the very rare occasion (I’m blessed with good health) I’m under the weather, the other two in the family suddenly start feeling poorly too. Every single time, without fail. Any other households the same?
Anyway, more positively, I feel like I’ve already got the best Christmas gift of all – a cancellation for a blow dry on the 23rd. Like every year, I left it far too late to make an appointment and had reconciled myself to the fact that I’d look like my usual dishevelled self, until the call came through during the week. Joy to the world! Of course this means I’ll be doing my best duck impression at the Christmas Day swim, keeping my head out of water but what about it. More joy to the world!
I can honestly say, though, that I don’t really want anything at all this Christmas. Nothing. But if anyone is insisting ... maybe a voucher for a new nose and new teeth. I won’t be at all offended. And now that I think of it, I’m in dire need of new kitchen chairs. When we moved in to our house we got some from the middle aisle of a discount supermarket as a stop-gap measure. That was six years ago. Now they’re so wonky it’s like playing Russian Roulette when we sit down to eat. It’s not so bad if it’s just ourselves but if we have visitors it’s not great for the nerves when you’re already sweating if the meat is properly cooked. At this stage I’m going to have to leave business cards for physios – or solicitors – under the coasters. And finally I need a pair of runners. I stepped into them one time too many times without properly putting them on, running in and out to the car/garage (more like delivery van!), and now they’re wrecked. I’m a terror for that, which is why I was going to buy the Birkenstock Boston clogs. But I figured I already had enough Birks (three pairs) and couldn’t justify it so ... I messed up the runners instead. How’s that for false economy – Eddie Hobbs would be disgusted with me. So yes, to new runners please (and I still want the Birks).
Emma couldn’t justify buying a fourth pair of Birkenstocks ... and ended up destroying her runners instead!
Finally, I’ve given in and taken the family out of their misery, the invite has gone out, they are all coming here on the 25th and yes, they’re all well aware of the dodgy kitchen chairs. I’m currently swinging between wild excitement (should I get a credit union loan and hire a snow machine for the craic?) and seething resentment (absolutely no one will have any idea how long I spend choosing the sprout recipe, will they?). Also the tree is finally up, I’m still figuring out how big a turkey my oven can handle, but I’ve bought the cranberry sauce, even if no one ever touches the stuff! Sure it’s a most wonderful time of the year.
