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
The Person: My dad, John Sheridan aged 15 The Place: Dublin Coast It was the summer of 1946; the beginning of July and it was hot. I can only remember hot summer days in my childhood, I don’t believe it ever rained when we were on the school holidays. Now, this was a very important
Once upon a itme there was a river. It was called the Liffey, or An Life, or Anna Livia Plurabelle. They say that the Barrow, the Nore and the Suir are three sisters. The inteniton is poeitcal, misguidedly. Siblings don’t speak delicately to each other, they argue. Rivers don’t babble or sing, they run. They