A collection of quirky stories about life in modern Ireland
short
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napowrimo
SHE…
Who coaxed me screaming
Into the world in ‘46
When blizzards were raging.
(Or was it me?)
Who carried turkeys in her shopping bags
Suspended on the handlebars of her bicycle
(going to see the turkey cock)
Who picked blackberries with purple hands
And topped the full barrels with water
To increase her payment from the blackberry buyer
(her pocket money she called it)
Who ate dilisk on June Sundays in Bonmahon Strand
And washed her feet in the foamy salt water near at hand
Who grew fat when I was ten
And was bed-ridden till grandma came;
Then the doctor gave here something
That made her thin again
CRICKLEWOOD COWBOYS
CRICKLEWOOD COWBOYS first saw the light of day as a stage play, under the title BOTTOM DOG, and premiered at THE TABARD THEATRE in West London in 2000.
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napowrimo
TIGER BAY
How long have they sat there,
Unnoticed?
Granite haunches
Tensed in the sand
Brunting the snarling sea
Washed over again and again
Licking endless salt wounds away.
From these high cliffs I see them clearly
Wild creatures
Waiting patiently for prey
Yesterday it was desolate;
Now there are tigers in the bay
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DANCEHALL DAYS
Brendan O’Brien
Brendan O’Brien and the Dixies were up there with Brendan Bowyer and the Royal Showband, The Clipper Carlton, (the best in my humble opinion) The Plattermen, Joe Dolan, Dickie Rock and The Miami, and had legions of followers prepared to travel the length and breadth of Ireland just to watch them perform.Learning of Brendan’s death brought back long forgotten memories of the night we understudied the Dixies at the Olympia Ballroom in Waterford city. It was sometime in the mid 1960’s. Continue reading
WRITER AT LARGE
Hunter S Thompson at work
UNTITLED
Nights when we were young
We raced the wind;
Banshees in our wake
Dracula lying in wait.
We had left him oozing blood
From the stake wedged in his chest
In the Rainbow Cinema.
But with vampires you could never tell
Hair slicked back, stiff with Brylcreem,
Newly perched on our Raleigh three-speeds
(with dynamo)
We explored the world,
Our winkle-pickers pointing the way.
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HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD
Elvis and Charlie having a coffee break on Hollywood Boulevard during our visit there recently! Undoubtably the holiday of our lives; saw Santa Monica, Malibou Beach, Venice Beach etc, ect – and of course Hollywood. I have definitely fallen in love with LA!
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LOVE POEM FROM BONMAHON
LOVE POEM FROM BONMAHON
God in his heaven never bettered this;
Never hit perfection more square-on.
Rugged cliffs lip the strand,
Opening to fields behind,
The Atlantic, white-layered,
Sweeping into the bay,
Its hurry washed-out
By the tug of sand, gently rising,
Before it.
A tangle of marram crowns the dunes,
Tousled, like windswept hair;
Whilst, on the slopes nearby,
A line of white cottages
Vie for prominence with the old church
Yet, it is the call of the waves
That steals most of the aces;
Those rider-less white horses
Sweeping relentlessly in,
With their whispering lisps;
‘I love you, please don’t go,
I love you please don’t go’
And I, watching the ebb-tide dragging them back,
Silently mouthing in their wake;
‘She loves me, she loves me not,
She loves me, she loves me not…’
THE SHINY RED HONDA – NEW PAPERBACK
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GUINNESS IS GOOD FOR YOU
This old photo – courtesy of Waterford Co. Museum – show locals enjoying their bottles of Guinness in Ciss Kirwan’s pub in Bonmahon Co Waterford, Ireland c 1950. I grew up not half a dozen miles from Bonmahon, and I think it is my favourite spot in the world. Well it was until we visited LA last year! A seaside village in what is now called The Copper Coast region, it was in its heyday in the 19th C a thriving copper-mining area. Then the copper ran out and all that eventually was left was a warren of mineshafts and a decaying main street where most of the houses had either fallen down or were knocked down. Once the copper had gone most of the people left too.
I t was our mecca in the summer though; we cycled there most Summer Sundays, content to play football and other games on the long sandy beach or climb the pathways to the gently rising cliffs at either end of the village. The river Mahon split it in two and a cumbersome old metal bridge also provided further opportunites to clamber between the struts and girders hidden beneath the tarmac and cement laid on top of them.
As we got older we took our transistor radios with us and listened to the velvet tones of Brian Hyland as we sat on the rocks overlooking the bay. I only met you just a couple of days ago/I only met you and I want your lovin’ so Jeannie come lately, you may have come lately/ But you’re the one for me. Or Susan Maughan. I want to be Bobby’s girl, I want to be Bobby’s girl/ That’s the most important thing to me/ And if I was Bobby’s girl, if I was Bobby’s girl/ What a happy faithful girl I’d Be.Of course it wouldn’t be long before the girls appeared, insinuating themselves between us. I am sure it was all planned where they would sit, but at the time we didn’t have sense enough to cop on, thus many an opportunity of a bit of innocent canoodling was missed. Part of the enjoyment was going to Ciss Kirwan’s and stuffing ourselves with bottles of Cidona and bags of Tayto crisps. 
Yes, glory days.
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