Many years ago a man named James Quinn (Jimmy your great grandfather) was rearing his family in the countryside and had the mains water supply flowing past his house, the only problem was the water was not filtered and had to be boiled for ten minutes before you could drink it. Jimmy together with his
When I was a young lad on the pier I knew what was my calling To get a berth onboard a boat And earn my living trawling Fishing was good, money too My goal now, was to have my own crew When weather was rough, Big Jack & Charlie Would school us when at home
A year into our marriage we moved to a very old, dilapidated house out in the countryside because my husband wanted the fields that went with it. Wet August and I was in despair. I could see no redeeming features anywhere. On the first good day I wrapped up my two months old baby and
This small quiet village so peaceful and serene Ebbs a seafaring history on each tide that has been To recall rugged faces, their names bring a smile The stories they told made you linger a while Cannings Mc Cormicks Cavanaghs too Kelly’s and Farrens to name but a few A hard life was fishing in
There’s a secret lagoon in northwest Donegal which I’ve recently discovered. Standing on the pier you can see Bloody Foreland, Errigal, Horn Head and Tory Island. So many iconic landmarks surrounding one little bay. Not as famous as its larger neighbours to the east, Lough Swilly, Mulroy and Sheep Haven, Ballyness Bay is just as
They sat two metres apart. I could just barely fit them into my screen view. Like pillars at the edge, only seated and relaxed. It was Brendan and Pat. Brendan, in his 70s cocooning for the pandemic. Pat, a regular caller, checking in to see if everything was okay with him. And it was, for
Ní dhéanfaidh mé dearmad go deo ar an lá sin. Bhí mé i mo shui lasmuigh mo teachín ag smaoineamh ar mo lá ag iascaireacht agus ar ghabháil bheag na ronnach. Ní mhairfeadh sé níos mó na cúpla lá agus deir said go mbeidh sé an-stoimúil go luath. Bhí imni orm. D’fheach mé amach chun
Over the past thirty years I would visit a favourite stretch of shore line on Gweebarra bay. This bay is where the Gweebarra River curves around before reaching the sea. I would cross the most beautiful field on a hill with a view upriver and across to Dooey and the headland beyond and as far
I live in County Roscommon and when I was four years old my family and I went on holiday to stay in a cottage, Teach Seán, Drumaneary, Mountcharles, County Donegal, this is on the Wild Atlanitc Way. We had a Spanish friend named Maria who came with us, she was visiting us at the time.
Some of my earliest childhood memories is of the waters of Lough Foyle shimmering beautifully in the summer sunshine. Lough Foyle an estuary located between counites Donegal and Derry. The bright sunshine seemed to make its waters reflect like strings of diamonds shouting out to one and all, come and enjoy my bathing, my boating,
Adrenalin rises in every man’s veins Freed from the long winter’s aches and pains Salmon sheets to make ready, corks and leads Are hung top and bottom, dan lights for buoy heads Half deckers are painted, young men to employ These silver scaled fish to catch is a joy Excitement hangs heavy in the salty
Sunday was always family day and a day when you did something together as a family so everyone looked forward to Sunday especially if the day was good in the summertime. We were lucky as we lived about two miles from the beach. This beach was called Stragill and is part of Lough Swilly one