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The lights came on in the picture house, a dim yellow glow at first, increasing slowly, as the film ended, and was replaced by film of the young Queen Elizabeth, on horseback, saluting her troops, as the National Anthem struck up. Loud banging signified warm seats being upturned and the iron bars of the sideContinue reading “Under A Lancashire Sky”

I remember it was Whitsuntide and I was sitting in a train. ‘On the diesel’, we called it in those days. I was in Birmingham New Street Station, waiting for the diesel to set off for Erdington, where I was at Boarding School. I must have seen it on a newspaper stand, the headline, ”PopeContinue reading “Good Pope John”

“There’s a pub in that village called The Five Bells,” my father said. “It’s a nice little place, Eastry,” he went on. “I was billeted there for a few weeks just before D-Day. There’s an old Church and a vicarage, and we were bivouacked down the lane” The next time I was down in eastContinue reading “The Five Bells”

I remember climbingOn my daddy’s kneeAnd asking himTo sing for meHe had a lovely voiceAnd I gave him no choiceYou have to sing a songPlease sing for me The coal fireWas roaring in the grateEvening timeAnd it was getting lateSoon I’d beUp the dancersBetter take my chancesDaddy will you sing a song to me IContinue reading “A Song At Evening”

We crowded onto Tyldesley Station, all us schoolboys, after school, to collect the “namers’ that came through our little station, at four fifteen and four thirty every day. We were ten and eleven years of age, and trainspotting was our new love. We collected all the numbers that were painted on the sides of eachContinue reading “Here Comes Sassparella”

“I have lived in Glencullen all my life,” he said to his sister. “In my head, in my heart and soul, that’s where I have been. Down by Glencullen side. Is that good or bad, I wonder? It seems crazy, I know, because I have spent my life anywhere and everywhere but Glencullen. In England,Continue reading “This Passing World”

I went there on a hot summer’s day in 1964, just before we sat our ‘A’ level exams. Father Mythen, our teacher of Latin and Greek, and also our headmaster in the small junior seminary of fifty boys, thought it would be a good break for us two, Chris Gaffney and myself, to get ourContinue reading “Remembering Adlestrop”

The sand lay like a thin coverlet over the tarmac-ed road. From time to time the wind swept it up and re-dusted the blue strip of highway with a reddish hue. The banks on either side were a mixture of long grass and sand, the dunes of Belmullet. The road, only two hundred years old,Continue reading “At The Edge of The World”

Tony came walking up the eighteenth fairway with a smile on his face and a swagger in his gait. His approach shot to the final green had settled into a greenside bunker, and he seemed to be confident of getting it onto the green without difficulty. He waved at Brian, who had arrived by carContinue reading “The Daily Record”

I owe a great debt to John McGahern, (1934 – 2006) the Irish writer who hailed from County Leitrim. When I came to read him I felt immediately that heart speaks to heart. I have read the man himself, and I have read interviews that he gave about himself and his writing craft. I alsoContinue reading “John McGahern”

Danielle, Danielle, you’re beautifulThis the whole world knowsDanielle, Danielle, you’re beautifulFrom your head down to your toes Danielle, Danielle, you’re beautifulI’ve known this since we met‘Cause you always say, ‘I’m beautiful’So how could I forget! But really, truly, you’re beautifulIn heart and soul and mindStay beautiful foreverStay lovely, charming, kind Brian Fahy Written for myContinue reading “Danielle At 18”

There’s a little babyBuried next to MammyA little Polish girlA few months oldJoy she brought no doubtTo those who love herShe lives in someone’s heartHer story told Mammy lived a long lifeAnd a good oneShe reached the grand old age of 94Now laid to restThe one beside the otherThey are holding handsAs they reach heaven’sContinue reading “At Heaven’s Door”

A quiet corner of Clew BayNot far from Newport townYou’ll find a world now disappearedBut once of high renownA friary DominicanWas built here in the pastWithout permissionOf the popeBut a later one said ‘pass’ A quiet lodge opposing sitsOn an inlet from the seaOnce owned by a famous rebelO’Malley he, ErnieAnd he not the onlyContinue reading “Burrishoole”

I have driven from Mulranny by BellacragherThrough BallycroyAnd into Bangor townAnd out towards BelmulletAnd inside herDown the windy roadTo Blacksod Lighthouse crown A long and windy roadAnd quite a journeyBut standing at the lighthouseIt’s a dreamA boat upon the waterNow would take youSo easilyBack from where you came The sea we say divides usBut that’sContinue reading “Blacksod”

My father’s motherNanna lived down AstleyWindsor AvenueAnd at number 3We visited on SundayAfter dinnerWe got down there just in time for tea A brilliant pastry cookAs I rememberMy grandma to me spells apple pieHer smile of welcomeStays with me foreverShe is smiling at me nowIn my mind’s eye Love doesn’t stopWhen people leave usLove unitesWhereverContinue reading “Nanna Down Astley”