Our columnist Frank Brandon on there being some anecdotal truth to the old ‘Guinness is good for you’ slogan; Attending local events over the Christmas; And navigating the loss of loved ones during the festive season…
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 27th, 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.
