The more deductively inclined amongst you, dear readers, shall of course have extrapolated two conclusions from the above photograph. First, there has been a wedding. Second, I have obtained a pipe. Huzzahs all around.

I have known the young lady formerly known as Katie Lennon as long as I can remember, and I’ve known Brendan Daly more or less as long as they’ve been an item. The twain were joined in a happy and blessed union on Saturday afternoon at the Church of St. Joseph in Bronxville, and we all wish Mr. and Mrs. Brendan Daly a fruitful and happy marriage. The reception followed shortly afterwards at the Shenorock Shore Club on Milton Point in Rye, New York.

I had not really been to Shenorock in a number of years but many a day in the Cusack childhood was spent there, especially during the summers. We kids generally found it disagreeable while our parents found it an ideal place to unwind. Some summers my mother worked the 7:00pm to 7:00am shift at Lawrence Hospital in Bronxville. She would come home from work in the morning, wake my brother, sister, and I, pile us into the car, pick up the Lennon children and the McKegney children and head to Shenorock. We were kept busy at the club’s day camp while Mum slept on the beach for a five or six hours, read when awake, then collected us all again, dropped us off at our homes, fed us Cusacks dinner, and headed off to work.

For some reason I never liked going to Shenorock as a kid but nonetheless the place is a fountain of fond memories as I grow older. Just the other day a few of us were sitting in Scott Bennett’s back garden; Scott and I reminisced about summers at Shenorock, kickaboo juice, and crazy Mr. A (the summer camp’s director). Tommy Lennon (who’s my age, the younger brother to Mrs. Daly) and I would built forts and castles on the beach and man them with those little green plastic army men. Barbecues in the wooded Bowery were frequent, and of course the magnificent fireworks display for the Fourth of July was an annual obligation (who can forget the grand finale!). Strangely, we kids also had a pronounced hatred for Coveleigh, the neighboring club. (For some reason there was no similar disliking of the American Yacht Club, also on Milton Point on the other side of Shenorock). They were the France to our Germany and for some reason amongst us young’ins the rivalry was passionate. Of course now that I’m an old man Coveleigh’s bowling green grows more and more attractive.

Shenorock’s home on Milton Point is easily the most beautiful spot on the Westchester coast (only Red Bridge and Manor Park come close to challenging it). A seemingly permament breeze rolls off the Long Island Sound and keeps the Summer Clubhouse with its long, awninged deck overlooking the sandy strand at a comfortable temperature. The Winter Clubhouse across the street overlooks Milton Harbor and the dining room once afforded an excellent prospect of the Twin Towers all the way down in Manhattan. A happy place with happy memories.

The large beach in the center belongs to Shenorock, with the large summer clubhouse on it with flanking cabanas. The winter clubhouse and dock are on the other side of Milton Point, on Milton Harbor. Coveleigh is at the top right, and the American Yacht Club at the bottom left, covering the end of the point.
From Google Maps

And the pipe, dear reader? What a felicitous gift! It was a present from my old school friend Lev Trubkovich (aka Leviathan), who even chucked in some tobacco from Nat Sherman. The last time I had enjoyed the pleasures of the smoking pipe was deepest winter amongst our friends in New Haven. Places where we have smoked our pipe so far: on Red Bridge, watching the world (and the geese, and the swans) pass by; in my hammock in the back garden whilst reading; in Pelham enjoying the company of Nick Merrick, Panda, Simon (also called ‘Generalinnimo’ owing to his short stature), and Miss McGarry; and finally, planted in a deck chair at Shenorock on Saturday evening. We hope we shall find many more places to enjoy our pipe.

Santiago de Chile, May 24, 2005. Photograph by Lucas de Soto.

The past two days have been enjoyable. Yesterday, after getting my driver’s license renewed (it expired upon my twenty-first), I highed off to neighbouring Mamaroneck and had some Walter’s with Adam, recently made Bachelor of Arts from that place up in New Haven. You know, he hadn’t had one of Walter’s world-famous hot dogs in two years?!? Imagine that! And he only lives just over in Larchmont. Quel ridicule!

Nonetheless, after our great American luncheon we resolved to take advantage of my new legal status by engaging in a midday (well, early afternoon) pint in Larchmont. We were much disappointed, however, when we discovered that practically all the preferred drinking holes did not open until at least the fourth hour. Mournfully, we retreated to Adam’s front porch for some cool ginger ale, good conversation, and a flip through the paper before adjourning.

Today was leisurely as well. After dropping in for a chat at the bookshop in town, I called upon the Gills and was finally introduced to Daisy, their latest corgi, purchased during my academic period abroad. Caroline suggested I rest in the hammock while she potted some flowers in the garden, and I happily obliged. Above is the view from the hammock as Caro gives the dogs (behind the chairs) a corrective glance. (more…)

Today marked the final barbecue I am ever likely to attend at No. 12 Queens Gardens. The current inhabitants are moving out and new, strange people will move in next year, who are foreign to me.

No. 12 was quite recently home to Barbecue Challenge 2005 (BBQC05). The challenge was that during Reading Week (the week between the end of class and the start of exams) for all the partcipants to have all meals – breakfast, lunch, and dinner – on the barbecue. It lasted from Monday until Friday, and I am happy to say that of the twelve who started out, I am one of three who managed to last all the way through. The others were Chris C. and George Irwin.

Anyhow, I have enjoyed plentiful good times at No. 12, more than I deserve. Home to Chris, Dave, Alex, Jenny, and ZaZa, it was always a comforting place when things were irritating me; a veritable home away from home. And because they have satellite television, there was always at least one program about Irwin Rommel on for us to watch whilst slowly sipping a cup of Earl Grey. From getting sunburnt in the garden while studying this term, to the time Cockburn the Younger was ill atop the herb garden, No. 12 has been a font of good times and fond memories, and long may it be so to its future residents. No. 12, I shall miss thee.

Last night was my very good friend Arabella Anderson-Braidwood’s twenty-first birthday celebration, unfortunately timed for the evening before my last exam of the year (9:30 this morning). In the spirit of self-sacrifice, I attended the soirée nonetheless, which, owing to Bella’s generosity, raised funds for the newest Maggie’s Cancer Caring Centre in London. (more…)

Today is the last Sunday of term, so after going to the 9:00 Mass and mulling around the tea-and-coffee afterwards I headed over to St. Salvator’s Chapel for the last chapel service of the academic year. Thankfully the final hymn was “Guide me, O thou great Redeemer” which is a classic. Most of the other hymns were good traditional tunes but with different lyrics to suit the touchy-feely Teddy Bear Christianity (if you can call it that) of the Church of Scotland today. But at least the last hymn of the year was a good, solid one. And I had Matt Normington at my right hand and Jenny Maxwell at my left, so I was amongst friends to boot.

Above are seen Sara Lawrence Goodwin (center) and the Rev. Dr. Ian C. Bradley (right), in my mortarboard which he nicked for the purposes of the photo. (more…)

His Eminence, Keith Patrick O’Brien, the Cardinal Archbishop of St Andrews & Edinburgh visited St Andrews today, and offered the holy sacrifice of the Mass in the ruins of the Cathedral. It was the first time the Cardinal was in St Andrews since receiving his honorary degree last June. Above are Canon Halloran, our parish priest and Catholic chaplain to the University, and His Eminence.

It was unusually cold today and the ruins of the Cathedral were windswept, but we held fast and stayed for the whole mass. (There were about fifty or so in attendance). His Eminence even gave the final blessing and dismissal in Latin, after which he lead us in facing east and chanting the Salve Regina. Then we were all off to the parish hall for some tea, coffee, and cake. (more…)

Today a few volunteers outside the library succesfully raised a fair amount of money for Glock Aid 2005. “What’s Glock Aid 2005?” you ask. Essentially, Chris C. (Alabama’s unwanted son) wants to buy a handgun (a Glock, to be precise) and to raise money for this endeavour he spent all morning cooking and then from midday until 4:00pm selling his baked goods outside the Main Library.

D. P., having made a donation, helps himself to some baked goods.

All sorts of people turned up and inquired about the cause. Some bought out of hunger, some bought out of desire for scrumptious brownies, and some gave from their hearts out of their desire to see Chris C. well-armed.

(more…)

Once again it is Procession Day here in St Andrews, when we have the annual Kate Kennedy Procession to harken the return of springtime. Unfortunately, like last year, it was on the cold side and rather grey, despite some truly beautiful days previously.

For those of you who don’t know it, the Kate Kennedy procession is a medieval rite of spring which was resurrected in the past century. Kate Kennedy, according to lore, was the niece of Bishop James Kennedy, the founder of St. Salvator’s College. Owing to her beauty, a procession was held in spring in her honor, according to lore. Eventually, these became pretty rowdy, and as such were banned in the 19th century. In the 1920’s, Donald Kennedy, an indirect descendant of Bishop Kennedy himself, decided the resurrect the procession and founded the Kate Kennedy Club for this distinct purpose.

The Club admits nine new members each year from the bejant (first year) class. One of these is selected to portray the comely Kate Kennedy in the Procession, and is joined by the eight other bejants as sheild-bearers, and other students, members, and friends of the University who dress up as important figures from the history of town and gown. (more…)

Last night was the St. Mary’s College Society ball, held at the St Andrews Golf Hotel on the Scores. A good time was had by all, and was augmented by the presence of our good friend Mr. Stephen Oliver up visiting from Stonyhurst where he teaches. (more…)

Here’s a glimpse of life at St Andrews and elsewhere. Most of them I took, though some were stolen from Clara and elsewhere. Above are Fraulein von Hauch and Mrs. Freeburn after having divided a chocolate bunny for their own consumption. (more…)

Jon Burke (aka ‘Little Jon’ to distinguish him from ‘Big John’, Dr. John Lamont, the Gifford Research Fellow) tries out a biretta whilst flipping through an old Mitre at the Societies Fair. (more…)

Was feeling a bit nostalgic for St Andrews. Won’t be heading back until Sept. 20, so I figured I’d put up a photo of fellow St Andreans and me with jovial countenances.

And the mantle from my room the past year. For a closer up look at the random items including architectural books, John le Carré novels, the program from the Knights of Malta ball, a bottle of cheap red, the Penguin editions of Gerald of Wales, and Alfred the Great, and R.G. Cant’s history of St. Salvator’s College, click here.

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