Our columnist Frank Brandon weighs in on downsizing dioceses, Knock pilgrimages, the benefits (and anxieties) of travelling by rail, and much more!
It’s another horrible wet Monday morning as I write, and after a night of incessant rain and wind, we woke up in a house that had no electricity or phone service.
Once again, the very small investment I made in two little camping gas cookers a little while ago paid off, so we could at least boil the kettle and have a couple of boiled eggs for breakfast.
As it happens, I was off to St James’ Hospital in Dublin for the half-yearly check-up on my old ticker, so I am writing this on the train into the city, where I am thinking (unusually I will admit) about the Catholic religion.
Last week, in what has been described as the most radical change in Catholic Church history in 900 years, two small Connacht dioceses, Achonry and Killala, were effectively downsized, losing their own bishops and being amalgamated with Elphin and Tuam respectively. Achonry, with a Catholic population of 37,000 people, and Killala, with 36,000 catholics, are among the smallest dioceses in Ireland, and with less bishops and priests to go around it apparently makes sense to spread the resources wider.
The archbishop of Tuam, Francis Duffy, said the restructuring was a sign of the times, and that it was all about pooling their resources and giving the best service that they can. How it will affect the ordinary west-of-Ireland churchgoer I have no idea, but I suppose if the top brass in the church all the way up to Pope Francis think it has to be done, then who am I to object?
Funnily enough, as all this was happening in the world of Catholicism, on Sunday a number of us headed for Knock to embark on what has become a regular visit for us.
Now just like this morning (and nearly every morning), it was very windy and wet, and for a little while we wondered about going at all. However, we are made of hardy stuff, and because we all hate being stuck in the house all day, we loaded up the jackets and coats and made it to Knock in the early afternoon.
Of course it decided to really let the rain down just as we arrived, but surprisingly, our prediction that there would be very few visitors there due to the terrible weather was way off the mark – the village was packed! Maybe the number of practicing Catholics has diminished by quite a bit, but devotion to Our Blessed Lady seems to be as strong as ever.
Anyway, we did a slightly shorter run around the churches than normal, paid our usual visit to the shops, where the array of souvenirs is just amazing, and then adjourned to the lovely Knock House Hotel for a bite of delicious Sunday lunch and a chat with a number of our family members. I have to say that the number of pilgrims checking in to the hotel was very impressive, and we met people from all over the country, some from as far away as Belfast, and a couple from down the road in Glinsk.
As always, I love the sense of peace and tranquillity that Knock gives, but I do hope that when it comes to the weather, that God has a look at it, and maybe eases up on what seems to be permanent bad weather down there!
Train of thought on pre-booking seats and free travel
It’s now after half past two, and I have got through my NCT quicker than usual and taken a seat on the Dublin-Westport train. I have my ticket but I don’t have a seat booked, and so I am waiting with a fair amount of trepidation to see if someone comes along to turf me out of the seat, which they might have already pre-booked.
There are no names displayed over any of the seats, but beside me there is a fellow asking a couple of passengers to move as he claims they are in his seats, and I am terrified the same fate will happen me. The train is due to leave in less than two minutes so surely the names of those who have booked seats should be up.
Farther down I hear another discussion about people being in pre-booked seats, but thankfully no one has come near me, and as I can hear the engine revving up, it seems I might actually be in luck.
Now we are on our merry way, and if there is any advantage to being a senior citizen (I prefer old age pensioner, but it’s not politically correct any more), it is the free travel that comes with it. The much-maligned Charlie Haughey, who also backed Monsignor Horan’s vision of an airport in the wilds of Mayo, was the man who introduced free travel for the elderly way back in 1967, and whatever else he may have done, the old folk of Ireland will be eternally grateful for that measure.
I drove to Athlone this morning, got the 10.30 am train to Heuston Station, walked about twenty yards across the road, hopped on the Luas and walked in the door of James’ Hospital at just after 12 midday. The only money that I parted with was the €4.50 parking fee at Athlone Railway Station, and even if I had to pay for it, the peace and ease of the train journey would be well worth it.
My daughter and her husband and two children used to live in Dublin until recently, and on the occasions that we would drive up to see them, I would nearly need to psyche myself up for a week beforehand, so stressful would I find the city traffic. Today I was so relaxed that I have written most of this week’s piece on the journey, with the only inconvenience being trying to write it on my phone, on a fairly bouncy table.
However, I am thoroughly enjoying the trip, and all I can say is fair play to the late Charlie Haughey. I once had the pleasure of meeting him, but as it was a very long time ago, free travel was the last thing on my mind, and so instead of thanking him in advance I gave out to him for introducing us to his ‘hairshirt’ treatment back in the 1980s.
If I could meet Charlie now I would forgive him for his excesses, including his famous Charvet shirts, his many tax-free accounts in the Caymen Islands, his embezzlement of party funds, among other things, and I would congratulate him on his foresight in backing Monsignor Horan and turning Ireland West Airport into one of our great success stories, and for making life a lot easier for us old folk. All is forgiven, Charlie.
Turbine use… gone with the wind?
I am still on the train home (as I write), and as I look out the window (somewhere the Clara side of Portarlington), I see 12 huge wind turbines. But what surprises me is that not even one of them is moving.
Now I’m no expert on such things, but I do know that they cost huge money to put up, and I imagine they only make money for their owners if they are spinning around. Sometimes one might be stuck in gear, but when I see all 12 of them motionless on a nice windy day, it suggests something is wrong!
And finally….
Up in Cavan at the weekend, our daughter Tara had a tremendous victory in a Balmoral qualifier for Amateur Riders.
She finished in first place out of a field of 121 riders, and in doing so qualified for the hugely prestigious Balmoral Show in Northern Ireland, which takes place from the 15th to the 18th of May.
Balmoral is almost as big a show as Dublin’s RDS and to qualify for it is a huge achievement for any rider, so well done Tara – we all look forward to heading north to support you next month!
