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
I was born a townie at Pound/Connolly Street, Sligo, in a three storey street house with a cold tap inside and a flush toilet outside. When I was about ten my two sisters and I spent a week with my dad’s parents on their farm at Rossmore, Riverstown. It was Eastertime. We were sent out
I first heard of Coomloughra when I set out to climb the “Coomloughra Horseshoe.” It’s one of the classic hiking and scrambling ridge routes in Ireland and takes in several mountain tops – Scregmore, Beenkeeragh, Carrantoohill and Caher. These have an average height of about 1,000 metres. Nestled several hundred meters below ,there are three
Quiet early morning finds me where the sweetest waters flow. I am where I always wanted to be, in Crosshaven, a place much loved by my parents, Donal and Imelda. Back in the days when I was a boy we holidayed up in Fennell’s Bay and watched the great ships sail out to sea. We
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
I was cycling into the Phoenix Park. Where the M50 meets the Grand Canal the water is usually dark. Sometimes you can see pondweed wafting gently there. On the M50 bridge there was a small group of teenagers in wetsuits. A low fence that I hadn’t noticed before protected them from the steep drop. There
Rising slowly that morning, the sun watched as a single boat chugged sleepily inwards towards the safety of the harbour walls. Its hull was filled with several overflowing fish boxes. Although the world was on lockdown, the lobsters went about their business totally oblivious. That included being caught in the pots, having been lured by
When my life’s day draws to a close I pray that scenes such as this, Familiar, beloved, timeless, Will play on the screen of my mind – The sun setting behind the west pier, A calm descending on the cove, The last bathers reluctantly leaving the water, People lingering in the warm evening air, Their
I often wonder how today’s kids enjoy themselves. I mean really have fun. In an age where every mystery is quickly explained is there a need for Nancy Drew or Enid Blyton? Do they wake every Saturday morning with the same plans and exuberant energy that we had when we were kids? Will they ever
Maria stood outside the Harbour House. Her childhood home! When her father (a Clare man) got transferred from Leitrim to Sligo with the Department of Agriculture in 1962, he bought the Harbour House from the Harbour commission for around 800 pounds. Happy memories came flooding back; Daddy coming home from work and the two ducks
The day is mild. May is here. No rain for days. The river water unhurriedly running towards the sea. Gently flowing over rocks, then plunging downward. Idling in the pool below. Picking up speed momentarily when gushing over the weir not made by man but nature. Pleasant, busy gurgling. Steadily. Perpetually. I listen to it