COMMUNITY Brains stay fit in Cloona with Scrabble

Community spirit alive in Cloona


Sonia Kelly

The merchants of gloom are fond of announcing that the Celtic Tiger destroyed, among other things, the spirit of community.
This is certainly not so in our community, where we take turns in hosting sessions of our Scrabble club. This is comprised of ladies from the various villages round Cloona and we meet every two weeks or so. The number of members fluctuates - at present we have nine. As six is the maximum number of players per board, this allows for absences due to other engagements.
But few other engagements are likely to take precedence over these intimate occasions, where all the participants are so well known to each other that nobody bothers to have any inhibitions. So we let our hair down before winding up our brains for the rivalry ahead. We do this while tucking into the goodies provided by the incumbent.
This, by mutual consent, is nothing too elaborate, normally consisting of sandwiches and some kind of dessert. Alcohol does not figure too much on these occasions, although I must confess to trying to corrupt the group with slugs of my latest discovery – Moscow Mule. Another handy discovery on my part is the availability of sandwiches prepared by the local supermarket (SuperValu) in the form of a party platter. Decadent, or what?
It is during this period that we dissect the neighbourhood news and describe the latest personal traumas to afflict us. It’s funny and it’s cathartic and on a different level to conversations that include men. A previous member, now resident in England, successfully introduced the concept there, where it has become known as the witches’ coven.
Anyhow, we eventually sober up (well, I do) and we start to play. This game is scientifically said to ward off Alzheimer’s disease by stretching your brain muscles, so I know I have to try especially hard and occasionally, I do indeed win, although it is hard to best the way in which some players can score with several words at a time. It’s good, too, for learning new words – don’t you love ‘zygote’, meaning the joining of two chromosomes? Sounds like a curse.
When at last some clever sox has disposed of her last letter and the winner has been declared by whoever was keeping the score, we put away the accoutrements and discuss the next venue, hanging on, reluctant to return to the real world where conformity prevails.