Inchaguille Island is a wooded place of three hundred and sixty acres. Once a place of holy ancient people, more recently owned by the Guinness Family, Lord and Lady Ardilaun. They owned a large boat and the island had a small quay, at that time. The Guinness family and their guests travelled to the island
I lived in County Clare for many years. One of my favourite places was walking through the Caher Valley. I would park my car in the car park of St. Patricks Church Fanore. Then walk the seven miles through the valley. I would pass through the Khyber Pass which is a more spectacular sight when
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
At the back of the house where I grew up there was a wet ditch, draining some good agricultural land. As I child I would go there most days with my net and bucket. Down through the shoulder high wheat, the dog ahead of me, jumping occasionally to find his bearings. I can still feel
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
On the first day of our school holidays, we made sure our bikes were ready for the long Summer days ahead of them. Washed, tyres pumped, chain oiled, the dynamo working – in case you were out late, the carrier on the back tested in case someone needed a lift. Day two would begin the
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
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
To use this interactive map, click on a county to view the list of stories connected with it.