We approached the house late in the evening, having travelled all day from England enduring delays and mishaps along the way, faitgued and disorientated, groping our way, ifguraitvely speaking, in the dark. Only the brief feeling of dampness on skin before we went inside, with a few essenital bags hasitly gathered, suggested the water present
Our minds weren’t on the foot cocking, that sultry July afternoon; the air as still as the breaking dawn. Tomas remarked “it will be a perfect evening for Dereken; the perch will be in shoals there”. I was so enthused by this optimism, I began to gather speed with my wooden rake. Worms were already
In memory of my Dad James J. Galvin CHAPTER 1 For me, it all began back in 1942 when I was 4 years old. My Dad would say to me “right hop up on the crossbar of the bike”. He would take me down to the Grand Canal and we would feed the swans, ducks
When I was growing up on our County Roscommon farm, a half-mile stretch of river formed the mearing between our land and the adjacent townland. We called it, simply, The River, and the section from The Bridge to The Bottoms was a regular haunt for us. The river bed was deep and for most of
Introduction After the formation of the Irish Free State, the Irish Land Commission set about purchasing huge tracks of land that might be offered for sale. The land was for dividing into average small farms – suitable for a family to operate without too much hardship. In most cases, cooperative neighbours eked out a comfortable
Going back to the early 19SO’s my memory of Dublin Bay is of wide open spaces when the tide went out. We lived in Sandymount and out our front gate across the road, was the beach. In springtime when tides were high, we had great fun dodging waves as they crashed over the wall onto
I was born very near the Brown Flesk river in the early forties. In my youth I spent a lot of what spare time I had at the river. To me at the time it was a very big river as I knew no other river. As our small farm was bounded on one side
When I think of a favourite patch of water my mind immediately takes me back to the spot where I spent many hours trying to catch brickeens during my childhood over 50 years ago. Some of my cousins called these little ifsh pinkeens or minnows depending on where they lived. The stream lfowed along the
I was born in 1937 in the townland of Coole. Coole is about a mile East of Ferbane in the County of Offaly. Our house is about two hundred- and fifty-yards from the River Brosna and our pasture went to the river. From the time I was able to walk I followed my two older
I love Colm Sand’s song “Going down to the well with Maggie”. It brings me back to my own childhood and the many adventures we had collecting water. Like Colm Sands we also had a Maggie Connolly who lived next door and we shared the well with the family. In those times everyone had a
A scene serene in my memory I store Of gazing down on Annaghearly lake shore The scene below mirrored the sky In a painting of beauty no money could buy The water below so calm and so blue With diamonds glistening and changing hue As snowy white swans with their brood of two Disturbed its
In the late ’70s and right through the ’80s, my family spent our summer holidays in Curracloe, County Wexford. For me, it was just magical. Those two weeks every July and August in a rented mobile home in Whyte’s Caravan Park was the highlight of every year. Dad’s green Hillman Hunter, lovingly named “Betsy”, was