It’s Thursday morning, and I have to admit that my nerves are at me as I head into Roscommon to have something done that I haven’t had done professionally for more than 40 (nearer to 50) years.

The thought of sitting in the big black chair with my head held back fills me with dread, and I wonder how I will be when the job is done. The last time I sat in such a chair I was a very young man still playing rugby and football on the respective fields of Connacht and Roscommon, and the recently-retired Paddy Joe was just on the start of his journey to become, like Carlsberg, probably the best (certainly the best-known) barber in the country, if not the world.

By now you will have figured that I wasn’t going to the dentist, but rather to a barber, because over the last half-century or so Carol took on the mantle as my barber, and more importantly, my beard regulator.

Now we always agreed that my hair could more or less grow wild, but my beard needed to be kept relatively tidy. And so last week, after my adult children told me I looked like a monkey – with so much facial hair that you couldn’t see my face (not a bad thing) – I gave in and went to town to get the offensive beard trimmed.

Jose Mourinho, the famous soccer manager, recently got into bother for claiming some members of an opposition bench were jumping up and down like monkeys, so I hope I have not insulted any of the primate (monkeys are primates) family by comparing myself to one of them.

Anyway, off I went, with no idea as to which of the many town barbers I would go to. I simply decided that I would go to the first one I would see, and was on my way to ask my son Mark for his advice when I spotted A1 Barbers and went in.

There was a middle-aged man getting his hair cut when I walked in, which gave me a good feeling about the place, and he was so happy with the finished product that I lost all my fears and nerves. Mind you, when the very friendly proprietor asked me to take off my glasses, I wondered if he didn’t want me to see what he was doing.

But I needn’t have worried – he did a wonderful job, took loads of time with me, treated me to hot towels on my face (which I only ever saw in movies), and left me with the nearest thing to a designer beard that I have ever had.

Sunny, a native of Pakistan, had worked in Sligo for a number of years before taking the huge step of opening his own very impressive barber shop five months ago, and he tells me that things are going very well for him. He opens seven days a week, and Sunday is a really busy day.

Now I know there are lots of barber shops in Roscommon and I have no doubt they are all very professional and equally good, but I have to say that my experience of A1 Barbers was very positive and I can only hugely recommend it. I will be back when next I look like a monkey.

‘No cert, no cover’

As I looked up the phone number for the NCT centre to book a retest for my (mostly) trusty old Passat, I came across a post from a driver that I have to say surprised me.

He was unlucky enough to have an accident, and then when he made a claim his insurance company refused to pay because he didn’t have a valid NCT cert.

To clear matters up in my own head I rang Axa, whom I am insured with, to find out what the story is, and they confirmed that you are not insured if your car has no NCT cert. I asked them if that meant you were not covered from the time your car actually fails the test, but they said you are covered to drive home, and you will be covered to drive back to the test centre on the day of your retest. You are not covered any other time, so the ridiculous situation is if you have to go to a garage (as you almost certainly will) to get things sorted, you are not covered. You simply cannot drive your car except to bring it back to the test centre.

Oftentimes cars only fail the test on visuals, such as a missing bulb or something small, but according to Axa, it seems to make no difference what it fails for. It can be the most minor of things, but you are treated the same as if the car is falling apart and totally unroadworthy.

That seems unfair to me, and although it was said that Gardaí and insurance companies would take a more lenient look at things (mainly because people are experiencing long delays in getting dates for their tests), Axa were quite clear to me that “no cert, no cover” is the way it is.

I have to admit that I was unaware that that was the position, so in case other companies have different criteria, if you have an expired NCT cert, give your insurance company a ring – it might save you a lot of stress, and more importantly, money.

And finally…

Out here in Creggs, a new digital storyMap showcasing the heritage and history of the area will be launched at an event in the local National School on Friday, March 14th.

The event will feature material from the podcasts and films that were created as part of the digital storyMap as well as traditional music and song to celebrate St Patrick’s Day. There are three podcasts and two videos and it will be an opportunity to celebrate all who have contributed to the history and heritage of the area, and to introduce everyone to the 15 points of historical interest in the parish.

Two men who contributed greatly to the podcasts, Seamus Keane and Paddy Lohan, have sadly since passed away, and the event will celebrate their contributions to the podcast and the wider community on the night.

There is so much to write about regarding this event that my editor, Paul Healy, would have a seizure – so all I can say is get to the National School in Creggs at 8 pm on Friday, March 14th! Admission is free, and the areas of historical interest in the locality will be truly brought to life through the podcasts and short films. Don’t forget!

‘Til next week,

Bye for now!

The post My first visit to a barber in almost half a century wasn’t as hair-raising as I’d feared! appeared first on Roscommon People.

There is no doubt that the internet and Google and all that kind of stuff has changed our lives, mostly for the better. For the princely sum of €6 a month, I can get the Irish Independent, along with nine or ten other national and provincial papers, sent straight to my phone (that’s if it has service, which recently has been pretty spasmodic) and I can keep up to date with all the happenings in the world without having to even leave the house.

Among the papers that come to me by phone is the Sunday World, but the truth is I much prefer the actual physical experience of having the paper in my hand and reading it that way, and so every week I buy the Sunday World, and I also buy a Daily Mail each day. The reason I buy the Mail is to do the crossword (the simple one, not the cryptic option) because everyone says that as we get older we need to try to keep the old brain cells active (that’s if we have any) – and the reason I buy the Sunday World is to read the entertainments page and see what is happening in the worlds of Mike Denver and Nathan Carter and the few others who are dominating the music scene in this country.

And while there are some venues holding Sunday night and weeknight dances on this week’s paper, it is hard not to conclude that foreign tours are the really lucrative areas for the top Irish artists. All the big names have their own week (or so) away in Portugal or Spain, where apparently the craic is 90 and there is non-stop dancing on sun-kissed beaches. Doesn’t sound too bad to me!

For a few years during and after Covid, there was very little activity on the country music scene. But thankfully things seem to have improved, with the other big attraction being country music weekends in hotels all around the place, where you can have two or three bands playing Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights, with hotels offering packages to guests to stay for the entire weekend.

All of this came into my head as I reflected on the recent deaths of Showband legends Dickie Rock and Paddy Cole. I thought to myself that no matter how nice it would be to go to some top hotel like the Shearwater in Ballinasloe to hear an artist (as it happens, Mike Denver was there last night, along with the supporting Jack Keogh, John Molloy and Sabrina Fallon), nothing could ever compare to the days of the local carnivals.

For two weeks in the summer, every village, hamlet, and crossroads had their own moment in the sun when the top showbands came to play in your own little town. The excitement of erecting the marquee and getting the whole place ready really was the highlight of the year.

Paddy Cole was one of the great survivors of the showband era, and even though he never got the adulation that the likes of Brendan Bowyer, Butch Moore, Joe Dolan, or Dickie Rock got, he had an outstanding career and had many years in Las Vegas with both the Capitol and the Big Eight bands. Having come back from Vegas because he wanted to raise his children in Ireland, he eventually formed his own band – the Paddy Cole Superstars – and a friend of Carol’s, Twink, was the singer with them.

Around that time, our neighbour Fr Brian Hanley, a priest with an entrepreneurial touch, was based in Ballinamore Bridge, and on a Friday night many years ago he had the Paddy Cole Band playing in the carnival that he was running for church funds. Myself and Carol went along, and after the dance was over we were invited, along with the band members, back to Fr Brian’s house for a cup of tea.

There must have been something in the tea, because before long the sing-song and the session started, and the local farmers were bringing in the cows to milk them as myself and Carol headed home. I can still hear Paddy playing the sax and Twink and the Hughes brothers singing their hearts out, and to think that it all happened in a house in the very small village of Ballinamore Bridge sums up to me what the showband era meant to rural Ireland.

Paddy Cole only passed away very recently after a hugely successful career, and he joins the long list of showband stars who have departed from life’s stage. There is a page on the internet detailing all those who have passed away, and it’s an education in itself to see the names of all the showbands that were playing around Ireland way back then.

Anyway, rest in peace Paddy. I will never forget the night of Ballinamore Bridge Carnival some time in the early 1980s or maybe even late 1970s.

Gardening by the book

For the last number of years my late wife Carol was very fond of her garden, and during that time she got her hands on quite a number of gardening books.

Among her collection were several Expert Guides – and today I see that the author of all of those books and many more (there are more than 50 books in the Expert series about vegetables, flowers, trees, and shrubs), David Hessayon, has died at the age of 96.

Hessayon earned more that £31 million from his gardening books, and is listed as the best-selling non-fiction author of all time.

Nowadays, every second show on telly is either a cookery, home improvement, or gardening one (there wasn’t a Garden Rescue programme over the last few years that Carol didn’t watch), but I see that the Expert author was critical of that type of show. In his opinion, gardens were being constructed way too quickly, and he reckoned shows like Alan Titchmarsh’s Ground Force did “a bloody lot of harm”.

As the spring is here (although with the weather the way it is, you’d never think it), I think I had better start thinking about trying to keep the garden even close to the way Carol had it. So I’m going to do a bit of a search and see can I find any of her Expert books. Wish me luck!

Titchmarsh himself said that “David Hessayon was a mould-breaker and his work, which started in the 1950s, has stood the test of time”. May he too rest in peace.

And finally…

After President Trump’s recent comments that Canada should become a US State, and his threat of tariffs, an ice hockey game between the two countries on Saturday week last seems to show that the Canadians are very angry at his suggestions.

Apparently the crowd of more than 21,000 fans in Montreal booed the American National Anthem and the American players as they were introduced, and there were three fights among players in the first nine seconds.

We often see fights in games that amount to no more than ‘handbags’, but these fights would have graced any boxing arena and were certainly full on – you can see them all on the internet.

As it happened, the US won the game by 3-1 (I’m not sure who won the fights) but as usual, Trump’s actions seem to have infuriated America’s nearest neighbours and there’s certainly currently no love lost between the two countries.

In the end, both teams qualified for the final of the 4 Nations Face-off tournament, and in that game (played on Thursday last in Boston) the Canadians won 3-2 after extra-time – this time it seems there was no outbreak of fisticuffs.

‘Til next week,

bye for now!

The post Passing of showband stars a reminder of carnival days appeared first on Roscommon People.

I have often talked about sport, and how important it is to people like me. It has the ability to cheer me up, lift me to euphoric highs indeed, as well as the ability to do the opposite by plunging me into something akin to depression – all depending on the result or performance of an individual or team.

However, as a rule of thumb sport is something that shouldn’t be taken too seriously, and should be mostly used and appreciated for recreational purposes, and so on this Sunday evening (as I write) it’s desperately sad to reflect on the death in Ireland over the last week or so of two very talented and dedicated young sportsmen.

On Saturday of last week, 28-year-old Galway boxer, John Cooney, passed away a week after being injured in a super-featherweight fight up in Belfast. He was defending his Celtic super-featherweight title against Welshman, Nathan Howells, when the fight was stopped in the ninth round. Subsequently John was transferred to the Royal Victoria Hospital, where after surgery to relieve pressure on his brain, he died a week later. His funeral took place in Galway during the week, and his organs were donated to help save the lives of five different people.

Evidencing how hard it can be to make it as a professional boxer, Cooney worked as a barber three days a week in Galway and trained for his boxing career the other four. His dream was to settle down and have a family with his fiancee, Emmaleen. Sadly he will never realise what was a pretty simple and normal dream, and it was poignant that the Galway champion boxer was laid to rest on St Valentine’s Day.

Then today, Sunday, comes the news that jockey, Michael O’Sullivan, a native of County Cork, has also passed away after suffering serious injuries in a fall in Thurles on February 6th. The jockey, who was only 24 years of age, was already hugely successful, with several big winners to his name, including two successes at the Cheltenham Festival.

After coming to prominence in 2023, he was regularly called upon by the king of National Hunt racing, Willie Mullins, to partner some of his superstar horses. That in itself tells us how highly he was rated in the sport.

Mullins, paying tribute to the young jockey, said he will be much missed in Mullins’ Closutton yard and that Closutton will be a much poorer place without him. Everyone talked about how talented he was, and that he would have had a great career ahead of him, but sadly it wasn’t to be. His organs were also donated so both of those young men will have made a huge difference to other patients and their families.

I suppose the truth is that both of the sports they were involved in would be classed as high risk, but there are many other sports out there that could be considered dangerous – rugby, hurling, motorsport and cycling would spring to mind, but thankfully fatalities in any sport are very rare.

It’s almost unprecedented to lose one sportsman to injury. To lose two in little more than a week is terribly sad. My deepest sympathies go to the families of both hugely talented young sportsmen. May they rest in peace.

Crime without punishment

It’s Monday morning, and law and order is on my mind, as to all intents and purposes it seems to have almost completely broken down in this great land of (once upon a time) saints and scholars. In September 2024, to great fanfare, an order was brought in by then-Justice Minister, Helen McEntee, to increase the maximum sentences for four different knife-related offences. Ms McEntee said at the time that the changes to the law would “further help to keep knives and other offensive weapons off our streets”.

Now I have no doubt that the minister meant well, and that she really felt that the new punishments would make people think twice about carrying knives – and sadly being prepared to use them in the event of conflict – but from what I can see barely a day goes by without someone somewhere in Ireland suffering either very serious, or even fatal injuries as a result of a knife-related attack.

Among the high profile stabbings that have occurred on our island in the last while was the attack on an army chaplain in Galway, the terrible multi-stabbings on children in Parnell Square in Dublin – which led to a five-year-old girl being critically injured and spending almost a year in hospital – and in the last week or so we had three men injured after being randomly attacked in Stoneybatter. All three victims were totally innocent, one being slashed across the neck as he opened the front door to his home. All three were hospitalised, two with serious injuries.

Then on Friday night in Dublin City centre, we had a 30-year-old male being stabbed to death after some type of altercation, with shocking video footage showing a masked man brandishing a large kitchen knife more or less running wild prior to the incident on South Anne Street.

And so the evidence would suggest that the measures taken by our legislators are simply not working, and the punishments need to be much tougher for not only knife crime, but for crime in general.

I have said it many times before but some of our judges seem to go out of their way to be kind to some of our worst criminals, with often bizarrely lenient sentencing.

Then this week, in a totally different type of crime, but a crime nonetheless, we read where fake porn images of Grainne Seoige were circulated online prior to her election bid in November.

For Ms Seoige, the decision to enter the race for the Dáil, and a subsequent failed bid to get to the Seanad, seems to have had a detrimental effect on her life, and she now says she is unemployed for the first time.

The bigger picture tells us that nobody is safe from crime, be it online scams or fake pornographic images or physical attacks. All told, everything adds up to a society where law and order seems to me to have broken down. We are used to almost non-stop coverage of the problems in the HSE and of the housing crisis too. Let us hope our new Government don’t overlook the fact that crime is a huge concern to most law-abiding folk in the country.

Even though the knife crimes I highlighted happened mostly in the cities, rural Ireland feels very vulnerable and isolated, and many lonely older folk who are living on their own are terrified that criminals will target them and subject them to often horrific ordeals in their own homes.

And finally…

Of the many social changes that have taken place in my lifetime, one of the most rewarding has been the emergence of female sportspeople and their justified recognition as superstars in many different sports on the world stage.

In the past, the participation of women in contact sports was frowned upon, so much so that in 1947 (a few years before my time) the English FA banned a referee who was associated with a ladies team because “women’s football was bringing the game into disrepute”. Rugby and Gaelic football were around, but there were very few active clubs – it is only in later years that both of those sports have really taken off in Ireland.

On Sunday in Creggs, there were three rugby games involving Creggs teams: a hugely important game for the men’s senior team against Tuam, a big cup match for the 18.5s against Connemara/Oughterard, and finally, an U-14s girls cup match against Buccaneers. Now I had seen both of the earlier games (each of which, by the way, Creggs won), and I am the first to admit that I was on my way home when the girls took the field.

However, I decided to stay put and watch them for a while – and what I witnessed totally amazed me.

The quality of the play from both sides (but particularly Creggs) was quite brilliant, and these young girls played rugby as if they were at it all their lives! And maybe they have been – because being 60-odd years older than them, I (of course) didn’t know any of them. But they sure could play rugby, and they completed the hat-trick of wins on our home pitch.

Sometimes when I look around and see what a huge entity Creggs RFC has become, I don’t deny that I wonder can a little village like ours sustain it. Well, on Sunday on every front, but especially with regard to the U-14 girls, I was reassured. And while I will certainly not be around to see it all, I think the club will be on solid ground for the foreseeable future!

Roll on this Sunday, when the senior men’s team play Castlebar in another must-win game – I can’t wait!

‘Til next week,

Bye for now

The post Mourning the loss of two talented young sportstars appeared first on Roscommon People.

I am the first to admit that when it comes to iPhones and iPads and broadband and apps and all those now everyday things, I haven’t a clue. When people discuss AI and the Internet and all the stuff that can happen on it, it more or less goes over my head.

  One thing I know is that there seems to be hundreds of scams out there – including one that saw a woman think she was in a relationship with Coldplay’s Chris Martin, in which she handed over €25,000 to her imaginary lover for some bogus charity!

  However last week when I opened an email that landed in both my junk and bin boxes, I have to admit that I got a bit of a fright. The gist of it was that they had very bad news for me because they had hacked everything that could be hacked about me, and they knew every detail about my bank accounts (they wouldn’t be much good to them), my PPS number, and information on all my family members. Furthermore, they informed me that I was very active on adult sites that I shouldn’t be on, and that if I didn’t pay $1500 by return they would expose me to the world as being that type of man.

  Now I had no idea how they would have got my email address and so I rang my daughter Tara, to see whether or not they could have actually got my account number and PPS number. She told me immediately that it’s possible to get anyone’s email address and that it was obviously a scam.

  Now I know it wasn’t the most sophisticated or elaborate scam of all time, but I suppose they might sometimes get lucky. If indeed I was a regular on those X-rated sites (which, by the way, I’m not), I might well have agreed to pay some money to keep things quiet.

  As it was, I simply deleted the emails but I can’t deny that when I read the line “we have very bad news for you” my heart skipped a beat. I suppose the message has to be to stay alert and watch out for any stuff that doesn’t seem right. There seems to be no length that scammers won’t go to!

Community spirit to the fore on memorable weekend

It’s Monday morning, and I am just home from my four laps of the beautiful walk around the rugby club, reflecting on a weekend that has to be among the very best, if not the best, in the 50-year history of Creggs RFC.

  Now I am conscious that some of my readers (at least two) have warned me not to write too much about sport, but this piece is not about sport – more about the positive impact sport can have on a tiny rural community.

  It all started on Saturday morning, when a number of us golden oldies like myself and Paddy Hannon (he claims he’s too young to be a golden oldie) and several more were summoned to be on duty from 9.30 am to act as stewards for the Connacht U-12 blitz that was due to take place in Creggs that morning.

  I had been out socialising on Friday night (won’t ever do it again), and so I was a tiny bit late in arriving for my duty, and was amazed to see that even though the action wasn’t due to start until 10 am, the rugby club car park was already almost full. By the time the blitz actually started, every part of the village was covered by parked cars – literally as far as the eye could see in every direction. The car park at Gannon’s pub was packed; as I’ve said before, if you were an alien from outer space who just landed on earth you would have thought that Creggs was the centre of this universe!

  There were several buses and 27 different groups had children there, and in total, 430 kids took part in a hugely enjoyable day’s rugby.

  The economic spin-off for the village was huge, with Mikeen’s, Gannon’s, and the new cafe in the club itself all benefitting from the huge influx of people. A lot of the 430 participating children had parents or other relatives with them, and on a cold but dry winter’s morning cups of coffee and little snacks (or even the full Irish) were an absolute must.

  As for us golden oldies, we helped with parking and keeping some order on the proceedings. On a personal level, I think it’s imperative that the proposed pedestrian crossing at the top of the village gets installed immediately. The traffic that comes in the Glenamaddy road is invariably coming in pretty fast, and as the children from the buses and cars in Gannon’s car park cross over at that corner, a pedestrian crossing would be a godsend. If anyone from Galway County Council reads this, please act quickly and get the crossing sorted out asap!

  It appears that we are going to host several Connacht Schools finals in the next few weeks, and upwards of 1000 people are expected to attend those games – there is no doubt that we need that pedestrian crossing as a matter of urgency, so please politicians, get it done.

  I travelled to Cortoon again after my spell of duty was up to see my grandchild Riley take part in another Little Kickers session (as mentioned here last week), which again was great craic and thoroughly enjoyable. I’m told that the Connacht Senior second row Joe Joyce turned up in Creggs after my departure and was a huge hit with everyone, posing for photos with the children, and even with some adults. He seemingly created a very positive impression!

  Anyway, everything went off very smoothly at the blitz, and so fast-forward to Sunday morning when, for a small club, the dilemma facing our supporters was huge.

  At 12.30 pm, our ladies team was to play a big league final in Castlebar – at the same time our first men’s team was to play a Connacht junior cup semi-final in Ballinrobe, and our men’s seconds had a Plate quarter-final in Headford.

  After much soul-searching, I decided that the ladies and the firsts would be well supported in their hugely important games, and so I headed off to Headford where I was rewarded with a performance full of commitment, grit, and determination, along with a large dose of skill, where our seconds brought off a win that ranks with our best victories of all time.

  As I headed to the Galway town, I have to admit that I was sceptical, at best, of our chances – particularly as our firsts had found the same team, Corrib (that’s what Headford are called), a tough nut to crack in the first round of the Junior Cup. So to come away with a 25-12 point win was bordering on the miraculous!

  Our firsts also won their semi-final in Ballinrobe to qualify for the cup final against Dunmore, who were surprise winners of their semi-final out in Clifden, where they downed the fancied All-Blacks. Sadly, the ladies lost out in Castlebar, but injuries played a huge part in that defeat, and they were right in the game until the closing stages when without some of their key players they conceded a couple of late scores.

  However both of the men’s teams did the business, and it’s ironic that ourselves and neighbouring Dunmore, both of whom are celebrating their 50th anniversary, should be going forward to meet in the final at the end of March. The seconds now have a semi-final at home against University of Galway’s first team (not yet fixed), and it is almost unbelievable to find ourselves in such a position. Throw in the fact that the firsts have a huge league game this weekend against Tuam in Creggs on Sunday at 2.30 pm, and that they could conceivably have a league final fixture in the coming few weeks – and the month of March could be hugely significant in our overall season.

  For now, Sunday’s achievements were just fantastic, and were properly celebrated in Creggs last night. Well done everyone – and here’s to some more stupendous victories!

And finally…

A couple of years ago, you may recall that I had to call on the services of AOK (Alan O’Keeffe) pest control to get rid of two large nests of wasps from my  garden: that wasn’t so bad looking back, as last week in Sydney 102 venomous snakes were removed from a suburban back garden.

  The garden owner, David Stein, called in pest control experts after seeing six snakes moving around in a pile of mulch, only for them to find another 96 baby snakes hidden inside. He has vowed to get rid of the mulch as it’s feared it could attract other snakes to move in again.

  As the summer is (hopefully) coming, it makes me think that a couple of nests of wasps aren’t so bad after all!

‘Till next week, 

Bye for now

The post Digital Deception appeared first on Roscommon People.

It’s Saturday morning as I write, and after doing a little bit of stewarding at the rugby club, where the usual huge number of young children had turned up for the ‘minis’, I found myself heading off to the community centre in Cortoon (near Tuam) to see my granddaughter, Riley, take part in a weekly soccer class called Little Kickers.

I’d say all the children there were under five years of age, and to call it a soccer class would be doing it a huge injustice. The two young coaches, a boy and a girl who appeared to be in their teens, had devised a programme that had all kinds of different elements in it, including exercises, running, and many fun games (some with a ball and some without). I have to say that, even for a slightly sceptical old spectator like me, it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience.

The two youngsters managed to do what any parent will tell you is very difficult… i.e. keep a group of U-5s under complete control, and totally interested in what they are doing. Like Riley, they all really enjoyed the activities, and were fully invested in the hour-long session.

When it was over, we all – that’s me, Lisa, Riley and Hayley – headed off to the McWilliam Park Hotel in Claremorris where we met up with my daughter, Tara, and where we had a lovely midday lunch. It was probably about one o’clock when we got there and the hotel was very busy, but in fairness service was prompt and efficient and above all friendly, and brought the curtain down on a very enjoyable morning.

Anyway, I headed home excited at the prospect of  watching the Ireland-England rugby game, only to find out that the electricity, which had come back on Thursday evening, was gone again. I don’t deny that the thought of missing the game didn’t sit well with me. Now compared to the problems that thousands of people still have after Storm Éowyn, I am the first to admit that mine was a very small one and I should be (and am) thoroughly ashamed of myself.

As luck would have it the electricity came back shortly before kick-off, but as my telly is totally blank since the storm (I have no station at all) I headed down to my son Mark where we watched Ireland get themselves a very satisfying victory over the auld enemy.

The first half was depressing from our point of view, and I felt we were lucky to be only five points adrift at half-time. However we really took fire in the second half and were out of sight before two very late tries put a better look on the scoreboard from an English viewpoint.

Now I have nothing against England but the truth is that there is nothing quite like putting one over on them. I suppose it’s the size of their country along with their never-ending sense of superiority that makes a win over them so special. We are away next Sunday in Scotland and that too is one that is fraught with danger.

Thanks to the Connacht Junior rugby fixture-makers, Creggs’ two cup semi-finals (firsts and seconds), are both scheduled for Sunday afternoon, which means we will not get to see the Irish game at all. As this is only the first week in February and we are already at the semi-final stage of the cup competition it’s hard to see why the games have to be played this Sunday. There are only a handful of league matches left to play as well, so why the rush?

As someone who played in a good number of cup and league finals back in the day, they invariably were played toward the end of April, as the season had to finish before May Day. There are a lot of Sundays between now and then, so I cannot understand what the thinking of the Connacht branch is. Anyway, let’s hope our two teams do the business and qualify for their respective finals – and that Ireland follow up last Saturday’s win by beating the Scots in Murrayfield.

Storm clouds gathering… and we need to be prepared in future

Back to the real world, and as I write this on Sunday evening I am reflecting on a chance meeting I had with a woman who lives about a mile down the road from me, in Rosmoylan. She told me that they hadn’t got the electricity back since the previous Friday morning week. And it seems that loads of areas around us are in the same boat, as indeed are very many communities in the west.

While there is no point in politicising the situation and apportioning blame – like some politicians seem to be doing – the bottom line is that this situation is not acceptable. If nothing else, we must be ready for such an eventuality if and when it happens again.

Now anyone who heard the ferocity of the wind in the early hours of Friday, 24th of January last will know it was definitely on a mind-boggling scale, but we had been warned that a fearsome storm was coming and therefore maybe steps should have been taken a little bit quicker.

However, that’s all in the past. It appears that everything points to bigger and more powerful storms coming our way, so the challenge for this, and any other future government, has to be to forget about stupid party squabbles and differences and formulate a plan to deal with such events in the future.

I wrote a few weeks ago, long before Éowyn was ever heard of, that the fact that our new house builds all have electricity and no fireplaces or chimneys would cause problems for their owners with heat, or lack of it, in the event of a power outage – it didn’t take long for it to come to pass.

As an ordinary ‘two and sixpence’ I don’t have the answers but surely our highly-paid politicians and civil servants can come together and make sure plans are in place to deal with the type of weather events that are certainly going to be more and more frequent. Obviously the ESB workers are putting in Herculean efforts to try to get everyone sorted, and they of course must be applauded for their efforts, but it is not right that some people will have no power for a fortnight. So let’s make sure it won’t ever happen again.

And finally…

We all know that for such a little country we punch way above our weight in lots of different sports. People like Katie Taylor, Rachael Blackmore, Roy Keane and wee Barry McGuigan (amongst many others) have gained worldwide recognition for their talent and achievements in their different sports.

For the last two nights (as I write) it has scarcely been believable that in one of the most prestigious golf tournaments in the world (outside of the majors), we have had two Irishmen, Rory McIlroy and Shane Lowry battling it out at the top of a world class leaderboard in the AT&T tournament in Pebble Beach, California.

McIlroy eventually won and took home 3.6 million US dollars, while Lowry, finishing in second place, earned himself a hefty 2.16 million dollars.

As the commentators marvelled that such a tiny island could have produced two such superstars, it struck me that in our long and glorious years of sporting achievements, to see the two lads at the very top has to rank amongst the best sporting moments of our lifetimes.

Now all we can hope for is that it proves to be the springboard for Rory to finally win his fifth major, after an 11-year wait since his fourth, and that the likeable Offaly man (Shane) can collect a second one to go with his British Open success in 2019.

I know my achievements don’t fully compare with those of McIllroy and Lowry, but I have decided to go to the turf shed and – if I can find my clubs – resume what up to now has been a pretty pathetic golfing career. Who knows, I might yet beat my brother Duff. Watch this space.

‘Til next week,

Bye for now

The post Sporting prowess on stages large and small… appeared first on Roscommon People.

You might recall that last week I told you about Chapters – a huge bookshop I stumbled upon when out for a stroll in the centre of Dublin recently – and how amazed I was at the sheer size of the premises, and the fact that there were thousands and thousands of new and second-hand books for sale in it.

Anyway, I would probably never have mentioned books or bookshops again if Storm Éowyn hadn’t hit us with the ferocity of a Mike Tyson uppercut, getting rid of all the things that we now take for granted.

Our electricity, water, and phones are all gone since early Friday morning. As I write this on Monday afternoon, they tell us that we will be out until Thursday week (the 6th of February), which will be a day short of a fortnight. It’s hard to imagine that such a thing could happen in this day and age, but that seems to be the story.

So, with no telly or internet access, I decided to read a book. And as I read Joe Canning’s story from cover to cover, my mind went all the way back to my very young days, when my mother (Mrs B) had the library in Creggs.

Since those were the days before the advent of telly and a lot of other modern stuff like the internet and Netflix and social media, I suppose it was natural that people read a lot more. The number of parishioners that used to come to the library was amazing, with almost everyone arriving on their bicycles from all corners of the parish.

A man I remember well was Paddy Daly – a bachelor small farmer who lived about two or three miles out the Roscommon road, and who religiously changed his books every single week. As far as I remember you were only supposed to get two or three books at a time, but Paddy always had five or six, and he would have them wrapped neatly up in plastic, like a present, tied with twine and fitting securely on the carrier of his bike. I can still see him doing the wrapping on the library floor, after changing his books, before heading back home happy as Larry with his new reading material.

While the library was supposed to have official opening hours, the truth is that Mrs B never enforced them; if someone called out of hours, Mrs B always let them in! Saturday was meant to be a closed day but it was one of the busiest days of the week – and for me it was a blessing, because I would be home from school and sent out to look after whoever it was that came. All that really meant was marking the old books back in and putting them back in the right places on the shelves, and marking the new ones out by simply stamping the date they went out.

But because I was there so often, it meant that I became an avid reader. As a child, it was all Enid Blyton and Billy Bunter books. And as I grew older, I got into westerns – Zane Grey was my favourite author. Zane Grey was a dentist who wrote numerous books, with the remarkable total of 112 of his books having been made into films. He was one of the foremost writers of westerns of all time.

But I suppose the advent of television was the beginning of the end; reading numbers in Creggs began to dwindle and eventually the library closed. I sadly have to admit that I too fell by the wayside as a reader.

And so it was a pleasant surprise to find that Storm Éowyn rekindled my reading gene after all these years. As I really enjoyed Joe Canning’s book, I now hope to revive my reading career – I wonder where will I find a Zane Grey western?

Storm musings

Back to Storm Éowyn: it’s fair to say that in my lifetime I don’t remember any weather event that had the ferocity of this one.

On the Thursday night/Friday morning from about 3 am onwards, it was the loudest wind that I ever heard. It must have been what a hurricane sounds like. After a couple of hours I decided to move from the back of the house to the front, but it made no difference in the slightest.

To all intents and purposes I was waiting for some major destruction to befall my little house. But amazingly all that happened was that a couple of trees in the field at the back of the house came down, half the eave of the roof took flight, a shed door came apart, and the garden took a fair battering. Overall, the damage was very minor.

On Friday evening, by which time we were all without power, I decided I’d head over to Terry Leyden’s for a pint. I don’t think anything could have prepared me for the state of the wood road. By the time I got to the actual wood itself, I had barely made it under three trees that were right across the road, my windscreen had taken a good slap from a flying ESB wire, and I suppose by then I should have turned back.

However, when a man wants a pint he has to keep going, and I’m glad I did because the wood road was like something you might see in a movie and I doubt if I’ll ever see the likes of it again. It was like a horror scene out of Armageddon; hundreds of trees down all over the place – and just enough room for a car to squeeze through – fallen trees flanking either side of the road. Someone had cut a track through it, but just as I was thinking I’d make it all the way, the road was completely blocked at Jackie Flanagan’s house and I had to turn back.

In my life I had never seen anything like it – but in a perverse way, I was glad I did – because if someone told me about it I wouldn’t have believed them.

Anyway, here we are four days in (as I write), and while it’s bad enough being without the ESB and the phones, I think the worst part is the lack of water. And as schemes all over the country are out, you would have to ask why they don’t have their own generators. Maybe it’s not possible – and if so, I apologise for asking – but if it could be done, surely it should be! As we are going to get more and more of these storms, we should be more prepared.

However, on a personal level, I have to say I don’t mind it that much. For those of us who grew up in the very early 1950s, we all had to draw water from the pump or the well and to do so again is actually a little bit enjoyable. Maybe life has got too soft for people and it’s no harm to get a little reminder that it wasn’t always this easy.

The other thing that I remember is that my granny used always have a kettle boiling on the open fire, and I am now following suit by keeping a full saucepan of water boiling away on the kitchen stove.

And so, apart from the long, lonely dark evenings, it’s not too bad – but maybe come the 6^th of February I might be very glad to have all my things back working again!

And finally…

You have all heard about a bull in a China shop, but over in Nanyang in China, customers and staff in a barber shop got quite a land when a large cow burst through the front door, sending furniture and staff members flying.

The cow had escaped from its owner as he tried to load it on a trailer, and took off before arriving in for a short back and sides.

Eventually the poor animal quietened down and was recaptured. His owner had to pay a fine of about 140 US dollars, and the customers and staff got on with their business. Is it any wonder I don’t visit barber shops too often!

‘Til next week,

bye for now!

The post Brought (back) to book by once-in-a-lifetime storm appeared first on Roscommon People.

The house I live in is more than 40 years old. There is no doubt that if I was to build it now it would be very different. The four bedrooms should really be only three – as they are too small – the separate kitchen and dining room should have been all one, the sitting room is sort of away from the kitchen, and the back kitchen is also a bit on the small side.

However, I am also aware that if I was selling it, which I am not, I would be selling a four-bedroomed detached two-storey house, with mature gardens on an idyllic site with unrivalled views of the surrounding countryside adjacent to the parish church and less than a mile from the thriving village of Creggs.

It is convenient to the towns of Roscommon, Glenamaddy and Ballygar, all of which have top class second level schools, while the national school in Creggs is renowned as one of the best and most progressive in the entire country. Actually, it now sounds so good I’d nearly buy it myself!
It all depends on how you would look at it. When you compare my house to the fantastic modern buildings that are being built nowadays, you would have to admit that they are vastly superior to look at, and yet as I drove around the area today, the thought crossed my mind that I wouldn’t swap mine for any of them. And the reason is very simple.

As the country struggles under the present arctic spell (as I write), and as temperatures are promised to go down to minus 9 degrees (at time of writing), I wondered how people who live in these modern chimney-less houses would heat their homes if the electricity was to go. I’m sure they all have underfloor heating and all kinds of gadgets that didn’t exist in my time, but as I walk into my 1980’s building I have fires in three rooms that I can light regardless of whether we are out of either water or electricity. All I have to do is make sure I have enough firewood to get me through this very cold spell.

Now I know it’s all about the environment and Europe tells us we can’t build houses with chimneys any more, but apparently there are areas where people have had no water or electricity for days now. What would they give to be able to light a fire and relax in front of it? Even if they couldn’t watch TV, at least they would be warm.

Anyway, I am now about to put my feet up, thankful that we still have electricity but safe in the knowledge that if it is to go, my chimneys are the key to keeping me nice and warm.

Highway(men) to country music heaven

You will know by now that I like country music and when I can find it I like to watch Paul Claffey and Gerry Glennon’s music show on Sky TV. The problem is that the channel it’s on seems to change fairly often, although at the moment it’s to be found on Channel 588.

A couple of nights ago, purely by accident I chanced upon a concert by The Highwaymen which took place in 1990 – and I can only say it really blew me away.

For those who don’t know this, The Highwaymen consisted of four absolute superstars of American country music, namely Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and Johnny Cash. The concert that I found was over two hours in length and featured each of those four at their very best.

I have to admit that I would be less familiar with Jennings than with the other three, but obviously he is a major figure in country music and hugely impressive on stage. The thing that came across from the show was the great camaraderie that seemed to exist between the four of them. A bit like our own Three Amigos, they all seemed to thoroughly enjoy what they were doing and were having great fun while they did it.

Back in 1990 they were all relatively young, but in the meantime three of them have headed off to Nashville in the sky. Remarkably, Willie Nelson – who has lived a very colourful life – is still going strong at 91 years of age. As a man who is well known for his use of marijuana and for the fact that at one time he used to smoke two or three packets of cigarettes a day, Willie has had some health problems through the years, but at 91 he continues to perform and is still one of the great characters of country music.

Anyway, it was great to chance upon The Highwaymen the other night, and if it’s repeated I’d recommend that you have a look. You won’t be disappointed as they sing a lot of the huge hits each of them had over the years. Kristofferson, who only left this world in September, seemed to be the leader of the group, but all four contributed individually quite a lot, and it all added up to two and a half hours of incredible entertainment.

A sporting Sunday

It’s Sunday evening as I write and I have just had my sporting batteries recharged as our local rugby lads have finally played a game after nearly a month’s idleness. I cannot deny it was great to get back on to the sidelines (to either support or give out to our victorious lads).

They were playing Corrib in a last sixteen Junior Cup round, and even though it wasn’t a perfect performance we won well and now face Ballinasloe in the quarter-final this Sunday.

The good thing was that the severe weather of the earlier part of the week had disappeared and the roads were passable and all our pitches were playable.

Actually, getting away from the sport for a minute, one of the gripes a lot of us had out our way was that the very treacherous hill outside my house wasn’t treated at any time last week. Several times I saw cars fail to get up the hill, while I also know of a load of people who failed to take the turn coming down the hill to Donamon, and had to keep going straight on down to Bernadette Kearney’s old shop.

Now I know the Councils can’t grit every place, but for years everyone knows that this particular hill is a nightmare in frost, and surely such places should get priority treatment. Hopefully the next time we get orange or red frost alerts for Roscommon the powers that be will send the gritter out to Crosswell.

Anyway, having got my rugby fix earlier in the day, as a long-suffering Manchester United supporter the recent 2-2 draw against Liverpool gave us all a bit of a lift and so after getting home from Creggs, I tuned into Utd versus Arsenal in the FA Cup.

Once again, for the second week in a row, the much-maligned players produced a performance of grit and determination to get a great result against the London club. After going down to 10 men with half an hour left they dug deep and got through the remaining period plus another half hour of extra-time to win the tie on penalties.

Now life has been so terrible for all of us reds for so many years that we are well aware we have seen some promising signs before, but at last this team appears to have rediscovered what it is to play for Manchester United and are at least putting in some effort.

My late wife Carol used to deplore the way the United players showed so little heart and commitment in earning their massive wages, but if she were still here, I think she might finally have seen proper effort and work ethic from these extremely wealthy players. We’ll see what follows on from this but for the first time in a long time there may be hope.

And finally…

It’s hard to believe that the first scratch cards in the Irish Lotto were sold in March 1987, while the weekly lotto draw started a year later in April 1988. Since then I would shudder to think how much money I have spent on buying scratch cards, doing the Lotto (now twice a week) and the EuroMillions, also twice a week. It must run into many thousands of euro.

Many is the time I said to myself I would give it up. Unfortunately, I do the same numbers every draw since it started and so I simply can’t stop doing those numbers because they would surely come up as soon as I did (cease to play).

However, over there in Connecticut a lucky lottery player proved that it is possible to beat the odds when he or she won on two scratch cards in the same store in the space of four days. On day one, they won $200,000. Four days later they won $750,000 – the odds on doing this apparently being one trillion to one.

And so I am encouraged to keep going. Despite never having had any decent win in almost 40 years, just maybe I too can beat the odds and get myself a big win. If I do, the first thing I’ll do is tell you all!

The post Where there’s smoke, there’s warmth… appeared first on Roscommon People.

As I walked in Lenamarla on Saturday afternoon, I also had time to think about the newly-rediscovered appeal of darts, and of course the arrival on the scene of 17-year-old world champion, Luke Littler, who has really propelled darts right up to the top of the sporting tree.

More than three million viewers tuned in to watch his final triumph on Sky Sports and viewing figures for the tournament were up by a massive 40%.

It’s fair to say that as a spectacle, darts is now the most colourful, most bonkers, and craziest sport of all. The outrageous outfits that spectators wear, the drink-fuelled atmosphere and the constant noise makes it almost unmissable telly, and so I can’t really tell you why I didn’t watch any of it. My children, spread all over the area were, like so many others, glued to it for the last fortnight, while I caught up with a few programmes from yesteryear.

As an aside, I happened to see a Dave Allen show over the Christmas and I have to admit I had forgotten what a comic genius he was. Several times I found myself laughing out loud at his stories and that very seldom happens now with our present-day so-called comedians.

However, back to the darts, and I think that my lack of interest goes back to the fact that, like snooker with The Hurricane (Alex Higgins) and The Whirlwind (Jimmy White), darts was full of characters in the 1970s and 80’s, guys like The Crafty Cockney (Eric Bristow), Bobby George – who wore very flamboyant outfits, all heavily bejewelled – and later, Phil ‘The Power’ Taylor.

However, just as Higgins was to make headlines all over for his deeds outside the snooker hall and became the ‘bad boy of snooker’, Scot Jocky Wilson was the undisputed headline act in darts. Like Higgins, he once got a ban for getting into an “unseemly brawl” with an official at a tournament, while his drinking took on a legendary status.

He would have a number of pints of lager, followed by seven or eight vodkas – “so I could play my best” – and also ate large amounts of sweets, but allegedly refused to wash his teeth because “my gran told me that the English poison the water”.

He had lost all his teeth by the time he was 28 and later paid £1200 for dentures, but didn’t like them as they made him belch while drinking. Sadly, illness led to his retirement in 1995 and he disappeared from public life. Jocky died in 2012.

Apparently people in his home town of Kirkcaldy in Scotland, where he lived until his death, were largely unaware that such a legend was living amongst them.

Memorably, he once said “I’m short and fat but so what” and maybe that’s why he is still my all-time darts hero. Luke Littler, you have a lot to aspire to! But at 17 maybe he can be the catalyst to get me back watching the darts next Christmas. I would say the future of the game is in his hands.

Kick-starting the New Year…

It’s Saturday afternoon as I write, and while I don’t make or believe in New Year’s resolutions, I have decided to try to walk a bit more this year than last. Therefore I am kick-starting the New Year by walking the lovely rural roads of Lenamarla.

It’s a beautiful frosty afternoon and even though we have warnings of terrible wintry weather coming, I have to admit that I am thoroughly enjoying the cold clear air, and not for the first time it makes me realise how nice it is to live out in the country. And as I walk I am reflecting on New Year’s Eve, a night that we used to celebrate royally every year as it was Carol’s birthday. We would invariably all go out for an early(ish) meal, and then end up ringing in the New Year in Mikeen’s.

For a number of these years the Karaoke King (that was me) and Dympna would do the musical honours, and when we finished up the mantle was handed over to Paul Browne’s Disco and he in turn handed it on to his son Ciaran.

For the last number of years we would head up and sing and dance to their musical ensemble and ring it in, but this year our daughter Lisa invited us all down for dinner to her house in Castlebar, and the truth is that I wasn’t sure as to what I should do, as obviously it was very different this time around.

However, we all travelled down to Castlebar, had the most scrumptious meal, and as there were a lot of us we booked a few rooms in the Ellison Hotel. After we had eaten our fill we went down to the hotel and found to our great surprise, that it was residents only in the bar – on the night no randomers were let in.

Thankfully, there was no loud music, or any other music either, and so we had a lovely family night in very comfortable surroundings, reminiscing on good and bad times and, for the year that was in it, it was just what the doctor ordered. As for all of us, we were glad to say goodbye to 2024, and hopefully 2025 will be a bit better.

An audience with rugby great Ollie Campbell

It’s Monday of last week and I am reflecting on the 50th Anniversary Dinner Dance that Creggs RFC had last night, and I am thinking of how far the club has come in that half-century.

Now I have told you before about the unbelievable facilities that we have out in Creggs but sometimes I think we all take things for granted when you see them day in, day out. So it was just wonderful to see Ollie Campbell’s reaction to the whole set-up.

Ollie, a legend of Irish and Lions rugby, won 22 caps for Ireland over an eight-year period between 1976 and 1984, when he was unfortunate enough to have to compete with Tony Ward for the outhalf position, and scored more than 200 points in those 22 games. He was capped seven times for the Lions over the space of two tours, to South Africa and New Zealand, and was their leading points scorer in both test series’. And so to get him to be our guest of honour at the dance was some achievement.

When Ger Dowd rang on Sunday afternoon to tell me that Ollie was coming out to see the facilities for himself, and asked would I like to come up to meet him, I literally couldn’t wait. This was an opportunity to spend some time in the company of one of the all-time great rugby players and when I got there, it was special to see his reaction to what he saw.

As someone who has seen rugby clubs all around the world, and principally in the well-heeled Dublin 4, he was unashamedly gobsmacked and said that our little rural club was more than a match for any club  anywhere in the world. He took several photos to send to rugby pals all over the world and 50 years to the day since our very first game it was just fantastic to see his reaction.

Later that night he was the headline speaker at the dance and as you would expect, he was a highly accomplished, entertaining and charismatic orator and went down a treat with the 200-plus attendance. He made various presentations to different people and finally he presented all of us who were on the very first team with mementos of the occasion.

Eight of the original 15 were in attendance. Four of the starting team have since passed away but they all had family representatives there to accept the very nice plaques, and three others couldn’t make it.

And so, 50 years on, no one could have foreseen what the club would grow to. The challenge now is to prepare for the next 50 years, and hope when that dinner dance takes place that Creggs RFC will still be right up there with, as Ollie himself said, the best anywhere in the world.

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More than 50 years ago, I was a cashier in a Bank of Ireland branch in the west of Ireland. One Friday afternoon, with a queue stretching almost out to the street, I got this horrendous pain in my stomach and had to abandon my unfortunate customers while I made an urgent trip to the local doctor.

The news he had for me was that the copious amounts of beer I was drinking at that time (I was young then, and a bit wild) had given me an ulcer. Almost as a punishment, he told me that if I wanted to continue having a pint (or two), I would have to switch to the black stuff – Guinness was now my only option. Lager or beer or shorts were out of the question. I can remember my feeling of desolation and depression at the news that I now had to be a Guinness drinker.

The following evening I was at a funeral in Newbridge with my father Bill, and needless to say everyone adjourned to Cunningham’s Bar, where I tried out the drink for the first time. I have to admit that I wasn’t that impressed, but never one to give up easily, I persevered that night and managed to down six glasses. The following night I graduated to pints, and in the half-century or so since I haven’t looked back.

For most of that time Guinness was sort of looked down upon by the yuppies and cool socialisers, who were drinking their upmarket lagers, craft beers, and other exotic drinks, while the pint of Guinness was more or less for the older, duller, male drinkers who hadn’t a lot to offer society.

And so, this morning, two days before Christmas 2024 (as I write), it is delightful to hear that Guinness has become so popular with everyone across the water in the United Kingdom, and especially the younger generation, that they are potentially facing a shortage this Christmas! It seems that whatever reserves they have up in James’ Gate in Dublin are having to be raided to try to satisfy the thirst of all the new Guinness drinkers, a huge number of whom are young ladies.

It is great to see that the best drink in the world is finally getting the recognition it deserves. I only hope the drought doesn’t extend to our local area, or it could be a very long dry Christmas – at least for me, as to this day I drink nothing else (alcohol-wise).

On a medical note, the ads used to always say ‘Guinness is good for you!’, and I must note that the advice my doctor gave me all those years ago has stood the test of time. Many other ailments, including ticker problems, bad hips, gout, high blood pressure and cholesterol among other things have come my way, but my ulcer never came back, so that’s the proof of the pudding; Guinness is good for you! Cheers!

Losing loved ones over the holidays

Christmas always seems to bring more than its fair share of deaths around the place, and this Christmas, Bill Kelly of Castlerea and Alphonsus Mullaney of Ballymoe both passed away in the lead-up to the festive season.

Bill, who was married to the late Rose Lohan from Coalpits above Creggs, was a great GAA man, a well-known businessman, great fun and good company, and a man with whom I had many dealings over the years.

Alphonsus was in the same year as me in school in Roscrea and my big claim to fame is that, for a reason that escapes me, the great Joe Dolan picked him up one time to bring him home for the school holidays and gave me a lift as well. Joe was just hitting the big time about then, so it was my first, and probably only, time to meet a real Irish superstar. Alphonsus was an incredibly gifted woodworker and even in school I can remember how talented he was.

Sadly, as can happen when we get older, I more or less lost touch with both of them, but hearing of their deaths brought back some happy memories of times long past.

To their families and friends I extend my deepest sympathies. May they rest in peace.

Then, on Monday week last out here in Creggs, we were stunned to hear of the death of Seamus Keane, a man who by any standards could only be described as a legend. As a sportsman he was unequalled. He excelled in at least five different sports and had Connacht medals in all of them – boxing, cycling, rugby, hurling and football! He was also a sub on the Roscommon team that played in the 1962 All-Ireland football final. He was a superb actor and starred in several productions that were staged by the Kilbegnet Drama Group, of which he was a founder member, and his unique delivery made him a firm favourite with every member of the audience. He was also a good farmer and publican, spending 24 years in the pub business in Creggs, and when he went for the council one year for Fine Gael, he would have skated in only for the fact that about half of our parish couldn’t vote for him.

Seamus was a quiet man, a man of few words, but as is often the case in such instances, he was a man of action who let his deeds do the talking. If something needed to be done, he just did it – he wouldn’t waste time waffling about it. He was a great community man and served on several committees and was chairman of the local GAA club for more than 40 years. When people say we may never see his likes again, in this case it is definitely the truth.

However, above all, Seamus was a true family man. His wife Madge and their children and extended family will be the ones who will miss him the most, so we keep them in our prayers and hope they get the strength to deal with his sudden passing. May he too rest in peace.

Making the best of Christmas after loss

On a personal level, I cannot deny that I was a little bit apprehensive about this Christmas, as it was our first one since Carol passed away, but as I write this on December 27^th, I can only say that it all went off as well as I could have hoped for.

As has become the norm for me in recent years, I headed down to Donamon for Christmas Day Mass, and once again the ceremony was just so beautiful. There was a great crowd, a lovely atmosphere, the Mass itself was really nice, and the music provided by John Staunton and Annette Griffin was, as usual, simply wonderful.

Every year the Mass in Donamon has at least one child who almost steals the show, and this year was no exception. A little blonde-haired girl who couldn’t have been more than two years old showed how wonderful youthful innocence can be as she journeyed around the church. She had no inhibitions and was simply curious about things, and I have to say she made me realise how great kids are – at least until they grow up!

After Mass, I undertook my duties as the newly-appointed head chef, and despite a few hiccups along the way managed to get the turkey and ham and a few other niceties cooked. So far, none of my guests have come down with food poisoning… though they say it takes up to forty-eight hours before you get a clean bill of health, so hopefully all is still okay in a few hours’ time!

Anyway, St Stephen’s Day arrived and I doubt if there has ever been as mild and as pleasant a one before. Although it was a bit overcast, it was so warm it could easily have been a summer’s day – warm enough in fact to ensure that there were no coats required.

Myself and my brother Kieran headed off shortly after 10 o’clock, and without endangering any land speed records, we made it back to the village (thankfully) on the same day we set off. We had a couple of pit stops on the way in Kathleen Roarke’s and Mary D’s (as always, I was too late to honour Micky Maloney’s invite), and despite our advancing (advanced) years and various niggles on knees, hips, and ankles, we thoroughly enjoyed our trip across the mountain. So much so that we start training this week for next year’s walk!

And so as I write this, it’s Friday evening, and I am visiting my daughter Lisa and her family in Castlebar, and am just about to watch the big rugby game between Munster and Leinster. It’s been a lonely Christmas in some ways, obviously, but we have made the best of it, and are looking forward to a better 2025.

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It’s very many years ago since I got my first taste of hill climbing, when as a special treat in school in Roscrea, we would go for what was called ‘the long walk’. The whole school would have a day off and we would all head off on the walk which, almost invariably, involved climbing to the top of the Devil’s Bit mountain near the town of Templemore, which rose to the enormous height of 480 metres.

We were all supposed to get to the top, but as there were so many of us and so few supervisors, it was easy enough to give them the slip and hide in a cowshed or a deserted haybarn for an hour or two before reappearing and claiming to have successfully reached the summit.

Funny enough I never actually got to the top, despite setting out on the journey every year of my time in school there. However some years later, when on holidays in Achill Island, we stayed in a house at the foot of a steep enough hill, and after one or two unsuccessful attempts I finally got to the top, which was at least 100 metres high.

I have to admit that I was pretty chuffed when I got to the top and felt a bit like Sir Edmund Hillary after he climbed Mount Everest in 1953.

I have always felt a bit of pride in my Achill achievement, but this week I have been brought back down to earth (not a very big fall) with the news that young Grace Hanley is going to climb Mount Kilimanjaro in the New Year. This mountain, which is in Tanzania, is the highest free-standing mountain in the world and rises to a massively impressive height of 5895 metres, which is just short of 20,000 feet.

Grace, who is the daughter of Grainne and Brian, and a talented rugby player and a medical student, is undertaking this enormous challenge to raise funds for Meningitis Research Ireland. To help her on her way she is organising a Charity Quiz night in Mikeen’s Bar on this Friday, 20th of December. It will all kick off at 9 pm with a quiz entry fee of €10 per person or €40 for a table of four.

With Christmas upon us a lot of people will want to go out socialising, so what better way to enjoy yourself and support a wonderful cause than at this event. Well done Grace… fair play to you. Hopefully as many people as possible get to Mikeen’s on Friday night, have a bit of fun, and contribute to this Meningitis Research fundraiser.

The Stephen’s Day Walk, up, around and down Mount Mary will have to do for my Christmas exercise. The proceeds will be divided between the Galway Hospice, the Mayo-Roscommon Hospice and the Sunshine Room in Creggs National School. There can be no more deserving causes anywhere.

The walk will start at Mikeen’s at 12.30 pm and after you have successfully got around, Sean Donoghue will be providing the music in Mikeen’s to get you dancing (if you are still able) with a 5 pm kick-off.

It goes without saying that Mary D’s will be open for her usual array of goodies and you had better call in or she will be very disappointed. For very many years now the visit to Mary D’s has been a huge highlight so pay her a call and you might even chance a hot one or at least a sandwich or a lovely bun.

I have told you recently how our eyes were opened by the extraordinary care, help and support we as a family got in the Mayo-Roscommon Hospice in Castlebar and we will never forget the kindness ourselves and Carol were shown.

The Sunshine Room in Creggs NS is a room with a class for children with moderate to profound disabilities and in the years since its inception in 2008 it has provided children and their parents with maximum support in developing the children socially, academically and spiritually.

So, even if you overdo the celebrations on Christmas Day, the walk will revitalise you and the money you help raise will, in turn, go to help people who are much worse off than you.

The sponsorship cards are now in Mikeen’s so make sure you get yours and raise as much as you can for these great causes. I usually go early to avoid being passed out by everyone but please God I will take part and see you all at some time during the day. It might not be Kilimanjaro, but after Christmas Day, Mount Mary might feel like it.

A delightful journey to Clifden (despite defeat on pitch)

It’s back to Sunday morning, and shortly after 10.30 am our touring party of Kieran Dowd, his son Eoin, and daughter Eabha and myself hit for Clifden where our lads were taking on the hosts in a Junior 1 Rugby League fixture. We went on the scenic route through Ballinrobe and Cong onto Maam Cross and into Clifden, and it truly was a delightful journey.

I have on occasion passed through Cong before but didn’t realise how beautiful of a village it is with any amount of appealing bars and restaurants. Obviously we didn’t have time to visit any of them but it is in the back of my mind to go there sometime.

Anyway, we arrived into Clifden in good time for the game, had a bite to eat and made it out to the pitch with time to spare. I’m sure there is a comprehensive report on the match elsewhere in this issue so all I will say is it followed an all too familiar pattern!

We headed home defeated yet again by the All Blacks and yet again feeling like we could, and maybe should have won, but as on so many other occasions we didn’t. However it might be a good thing as we may well get another crack at them later. As is often said, “there is nothing won in December”.

On our way home we took a different route and found ourselves in Ballindine where the filling station/Deli/Supermac’s/other food outlets must be among the busiest in the country. Funny enough I had been in Ballindine earlier in the week, and while I would normally eat a roll of some sort in the aforementioned filling station, this time we (Tara and I) went to Ellie McGuire’s restaurant at the other end of the village. Some time ago I told you about the amazing breakfast I had in Knock. I didn’t think I would ever get the likes again!

However I was wrong, as Ellie McGuire’s breakfast was every bit as good and the truth is, that even though I was ravenous, I couldn’t eat it all. I won’t tell you all the stuff that was on my plate as I would be writing all night long, but if you find yourself in Ballindine and you are really hungry, call in and see for yourself. As we left, at some point in the early afternoon, there was a queue of patrons outside  waiting to get in – and all I can say is it’s no wonder.

Christmas Day Mass at Donamon Castle

For a lot of us, the Christmas Day Mass in Donamon Castle is almost unmissable. This year it’s on again at 10 am.

To make it even more special and unmissable, the wonderful Annette Griffin will be singing and will be accompanied by John Staunton on guitar. I don’t have to tell you how brilliant they both are, so even if you never said a prayer (but of course you should), you should still go to Donamon on Christmas morning for 10 am, listen to the lovely hymns and songs, and you will definitely leave feeling a bit better about life. I couldn’t go last year, but hopefully I will make it this time around. I look forward to seeing you there.

A time for reflection… season’s greetings

Finally for this week, and indeed for this year, I want to wish all our readers a pleasant and Holy Christmas and a Happy New Year.

For us, I know it will be very different, as during 2024 we lost my elder brother Peadar and my own wife Carol, and I wouldn’t be human if I was looking forward to the festive season in the way that I did in other years.

However, life must go on and despite those two massive losses, as a family we will try to make the most of it, and I think this year we may appreciate the true meaning of Christmas more than before.

I also want to wish our local parish priest Fr Donal Morris a full and speedy recovery and please include him in your prayers.

I wish you all well and hopefully we will talk again in the New Year!

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