“You find this bloody funny, mate?” he asked menacingly, with a gun pointed at my head.
I had been chatting with two young Cork girls who were travelling to Donegal for the first time. They were worried about the journey through the north. I, being a gentleman, confirmed all their fears. It was likely that we would be stopped, questioned at gunpoint and all aboard would be strip searched. It seemed like fun at the time to tease them and see the anxiety in their faces as we approached the border. It was 1981 and I was travelling on the express bus from Dublin to Letterkenny. Continue reading TROUBLES →

“Look at all these oul’ ones” Micheal said with a wry smile, “Wondering who’ll be next”.
The occupants of Carrick graveyard were welcoming one of their own home. Our cousin William James, who lived a full life at sea, had passed after a long illness and a crowd of his friends and family had gathered to ensure his safe and final passage. His closest family lined up above the freshly filled grave to receive the orderly queue which had formed, slowly shuffling to commiserate. A quick handshake, “Sorry for your loss” and move on. Continue reading THE LAST BUS →

Fr. Carney tapped on the lid of the coffin, which was now pulled to one side of the church aisle. ‘That’s for you tomorrow Ciaran’ he said, looking at me with a wink and a broad grin. I was anxious enough during the rehearsal, without any Fr Ted moments, and gave a nervous laugh. We were getting married in St. Eunan’s Cathedral at one o’clock the next day, slotted in after a early morning funeral. Fr Michael Carney was a novice curate and this was only his second wedding. This was our first and as the parish priest had refused to marry us, we were delighted to have him on our side. We had been through the obligatory pre-marriage course. A long weekend run by unmarried men guiding young couples on the road to a successful marriage. The irony of this did not go unnoticed by those in attendance. Continue reading SOMETHING BORROWED… →

“What are you crying for?” she asked. I looked at her and wondered where she got her strength from. She had been in hospital for ten days. They had run all kinds of tests and found nothing. Now, on the day she was to go home, she was comforting me.

“Isn’t it better they found something now?” She was relieved, glad they hadn’t sent her home only for it to be discovered six months later.
My mother had just been diagnosed with cancer. Continue reading MOTHER →

Sunday the 20th August 1972 was a big day in our home. We were finally getting a dog. We weren’t just getting any dog though. No. No scruffy mongrel for us. My mother had been scouring the small ads page at the back of the Irish Press and had found a litter of six-week old Cavalier King Charles Spaniels for sale. They weren’t cheap. These dog lived up to their regal name and were currently in their summer residence in Slane Castle. More than a week’s salary would have to be surrendered to Lady Mountcharles for the royal pup.
We were hugely excited in the days leading up to our trip to the castle. This was before Slane had been turned into a venue for ageing rock stars. We wondered would we actually see the King himself? Not since Bonnie Prince Charlie spent “twelve-month and a day” in Glenlough, were we so close to royalty. Continue reading SYLVIA’S MOTHER SAYS… →

Margaret had just been taken into the maternity ward and, after a quick examination, straight to the delivery room, I got as far as the sign saying ‘HUSBANDS ONLY PAST THIS POINT’. Being neither husband or sure I wanted to pass, I stayed put.
This was Ireland in 1983. The church were still at the helm, unaware of the iceberg it was about to hit. The Garda were planting bugs which would eventually infect and bring down the government and Gerry Adams rode Shergar all the way to Westminster. Continue reading HUSBAND’S ONLY →