Up at Belgard, the caged fox paced, confined for tomorrow’s foxhunt. Down at Clondalkin, the ancient Round Tower pointed at a cloudless sky as the Grand Canal’s waters glittered in Spring sunshine. Another lovely day in Clondalkin, what could go wrong? Lunchtime at the gunpowder mill near the Tower. Work was tough, fuelled by the
“Granny is going to be 80” someone said. “What could we do?”. “How about a boat trip on the Shannon for all of us? You know how she loves boats”. “Oh, come ON -it’s MARCH”. “Well, how else could you please a clan of twenty-three of us, aged from 80 down to 7?” Emerald Star
The grass is always greener on Instagram #wildatlanticway. Scenes of brilliant green fields with cliffs, beaches and meandering coastline, sun breaking through cumulus clouds. A mythical fairy land, beautiful, stunning, spectacular. The images on my phone inspire me to get in the car and drive for an hour and a half until I reach the
When I stand on the bridge in Ballytore and look into the river, I am taken back to childhood remembering happy times spent walking the banks, going to and from school in Crookstown, and paddling in the shallows below the bridge. The Greise river rises in Tubber Co. Wicklow and flows into the ‘Barrow, near
Since the virus came, everywhere and everything is quieter, these times, I can sit back, take in the sounds that have been suppressed for so long. Growing up on a country road we were so aware of our surrounding environment. In particular I have vivid memory of bird song and the ever present sound of
The gullet is a small stream of water that runs under the boreen where I live. It flows in to the Camogue River near the village of Emly. In winter it floods up so much it is barely able to get through the eye of the bridge. When I was a young lad it had
The author recollects the river Nore at John’s Quay, Kilkenny, over fifty years ago – the fishing for eel (now a conserved species), and brown trout, the brickeens brought home in bucketfuls, tadpoles in April, working artists by the waterside, pleasure boats in summer, the occasional otter, quayside houses flooded as winter rains blew in.
The summer of 1945 signalled the end of the terrible conflict that was World War II, with millions of displaced persons wandering helplessly through war- ravaged Europe in search of a home and missing relatives. In contrast, a whole new world was opening up to us with the purchase by my father Joe of a
Our river didn’t have a name. It still doesn’t. Though fed by a large spring and several farm drainage pipes, I suppose it wasn’t a river; more of a fast-flowing stream. But to me, as an undergrown child, it was a river. It was the obstacle I had to jump over on little legs. I
This is a story of imagination and conjecture! Just how did this beautiful bowl end up in Loch Marrave close to the village of Keshcarrigan, Co Leitrim? Dating from the 1st Century this beautiful piece of Art was discovered in Loch Marrave or The Lake of Death, 500 metres north of the village of Keshcarrigan
The time: 18th August, 1983 The place: Lismore Strand I’m going to bring you to a beautiful part of West Waterford called Lismore and to a spectacular spot along the Blackwater River overlooked by our Castle called The Strand. This particular day was very special because it was my 16th birthday. I had on my
When I was a young fellow growing up in Tarbert, a small village and sea port in the Shannon estuary there was an old man who lived beside me in Chapel Street. He lived in a little cottage with a thatched roof and a tidy back garden. It was one of those small yellow washed