My childhood summers were spent running wild with brothers and cousins and neighbours in rural Mayo. Jim Conway took us fishing. He was a farmer, a small wiry man who played cards, cycled everywhere on a large black bike and smoked roll ups he made with tobacco stored in a small tin which he retrieved
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
She found the spot she knew so well and settled into her folding chair. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. How wonderful the tinkle of the river, the noise of surrounding bird life – so much clearer today without the usual hum of background traffic. She thought back to the times she had spectated the
On arising each morning these days those are the ifrst words to be uttered by me without fail, whether statement, quesiton, prayer or mantra ifts my mental bill I’m not too sure but that’s how it is for me. As a senior ciitzen living alone cocooning in lockdown no one hears if I talk to
It is that itme of year they are heading for the ocean, I am told, to cross the Atlanitc and reach the Sargasso Sea. These strange dark creatures waving their way down river on their epic voyage, but we have the advantage – they do not like weirs. There is a large weir that stretches
When I was a boy, my father would take me to the Boyne to fish. Back then he would tell me I was too small to hold a fishing rod of my own, so I was more than happy to accompany him, happy to be in his company, and happy to watch him. I was
Monday, 26th November 1866 Do you know, I feel quite blissful today, seeing the sun rise late on this clear chilly morning…. I was christened Margaret, but have always been called Meg. I am sixteen years old, my father is the Lock Keeper and we live at the Lock Keeper’s House at Staleen Lower on
Dear reader, My name is Tom. It’s the Year 2020 – the year of the pandemic and my last year in Primary School. This year, I was looking forward to Confirmation, not isolation! However, Covid 19 and lockdown are words that became part of our everyday language. Parents working from home, some losing their jobs,
I like relaxing by the pond. It feels like it has a shield from a hectic life. The pond is a world of its own. It has a busy eco system, bustling with tadpoles, insects and plants. Like our diving beetles, we have two types. Our first diving beetle is very small, black all over
There are places we go that take us back in time, where the sounds and smells, and the feel of the ground under our feet says ‘you are home’. The Camac has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. It has been part of my family history. It is the
I was 12 when it happened, so cast your mind back to 1974! We lived on a dairy farm but had a field two miles away. Every day after I arrived home from school, my Mother would have a well-prepared hot meal waiting for me but once consumed, I would walk to this field to
Once my mother was visiting her sister in hot, sunny Florida. She was really looking forward to her holiday and seeing her sister. They were going to go on a road trip to Key West on the southern tip of Florida which is popular with tourists. During their stay, they saw an advertisement to do