Olympic Fever melts Irish Hopes

Maybe we Irish should try our hand at a new Olympic sport and become the world's best, first! No I'm not talking about Hurling, or Camogie, or Cork-Bouling. No, we will have to be far more inventive than that to grab Olympic Gold. The Russians have their Gymnasts, the Chinese their Ping-pong players, the Greeks their wrestlers and the Americans their Pole-vaulters. I think we need to invent a new sport that could have a world-wide appeal, but at which we are the masters! Hmm! what about Mountain-Snow-boarding-on-Wheels! Now thats one sport we just might excel at! Just kidding, but with the Travellers threatening to enter their own country Pavee in the next Olympics, our guarranteed Boxing medals are now no longer a banker! At the rate we are going we will be lucky to be allowed to send anyone to London in 2012.

Olympic fever ...and controversy has gripped the Irish nation yet again. No, Sonya and Eamonn have not come out of retirement, nor has Michelle handed back her illicit trove of Gold medals. No, it is an entirely new story for us Island dwellers.  It seems that the Irish Ladies have qualified for the up-coming Winter Olymics in a rather un-Irish sport. The Bob-Sled! (why Bob, maybe our new sport could be called Paddy-sled, just a thought)

Anyway, I digress. I mean, in a country that has no snow, let alone a decent sized mountain, qualifying for the Bob-Sled finals must have taken some leap of faith, not to mention improvisation and a fair amount of imagination. ('Go on, push harder Bridget, just pretend its snow, not slurry, ok!')

But qualify they did and they were all fired-up, doing interviews, signing endorsement contracts, getting their skin-tight outfits tailored and their bob-sled waxed or whatever they do with Bob-sleds, when they were 'Thierry Henry'd' at the last minute by New Zealand, who it seems have taken them to the Olympic Courts (who knew?) and have filed a suit (no, not the skin-tight ones) against the Irish on the basis that in the Olympic constitution (who knew?) it states that all continents must be represented in each sporting discipline, or in the event of un-qualified continents, their best, though they may not make the qualifying cut (for Bob-Sledding its 20 countries in the Olympic finals, each of whom have done a specific qualifying time).

The Irish actually genuinely achieved the Olympic qualifying time and are ranked #20 in the sport world-wide (who knew?). However, the muscle-bound Kiwis didn't make the time, and are ranked like 23rd in the world. But by pulling this legal stunt, they may yet get in as the 20th Bob-sled team, ousting the Irish, on the basis that there are other teams already in from Europe, and none from wherever the feck Kiwis come from...like under some rock someplace.

Anyway, speaking of the Irish in Olympic sports, I recently read an unusual tale, untrue, but funny nonetheless, about an Irish Olympic wrestler!

'A Russian and an Irish wrestler were set to square off for the Olympic gold medal. Before the final match, the Irish wrestler's trainer came to him and said 'Now, don't forget all the research we've done on this Russian. He's never lost a match because of this 'pretzel' hold he has. Whatever you do, do not let him get you in that hold! If he does, you're finished.'The Irishman nodded in acknowledgment.

As the match started, the Irishman and the Russian circled each other several times, looking for an opening. All of a sudden, the Russian lunged forward, grabbing the Irishman and wrapping him up in the dreaded pretzel hold. A sigh of disappointment arose from the crowd and the trainer buried his face in his hands, for he knew all was lost. He couldn't watch the inevitable happen.

Suddenly, there was a Long, High Pitched Scream, then a cheer from the crowd and the trainer raised his eyes just in time to watch the Russian go flying up in the air. His back hit the mat with a thud and the Irishman collapsed on top of him, making the pin and winning the match.

The trainer was astounded. When he finally got his wrestler alone, he asked 'How did you ever get out of that hold? No one has ever done it before!' The wrestler answered 'Well, I was ready to give up when he got me in that hold but at the last moment, I opened my eyes and saw this pair of testicles right in front of my face. I had nothing to lose so with my last ounce of strength, I stretched out my neck and bit those babies just as hard as I could.' The trainer exclaimed 'That's what finished him off?

'Not really. But you'd be amazed how strong you get when you bite your own nuts. '

Well, ...nice story eh?! But we 'Oirish' lay no claim to such impossible anatomically-tortuous contortionist feats! Horizontal jogging is our favoured sport here in the 'Auld Sod', oh, and Olympic Bob-sledding.... Jamaicans - fear not!
No, this is an old Billy Connolly joke that I last heard when I saw Billy 'live' in a sold-out Carnegie Hall in 1989, I know this because my wife was 81/2 months pregnant with our first child at the time and I was certain she was going to deliver right there in Carnegie with every story he told. Not that I could have helped her in any way, being bent over double the entire night with paroxysms of laughter of the type that would move a triple-rated vindaloo curry from a constipated elephant. It was possibly the only time I ever wished a live entertainer would finish up early so I could draw breath! Exhausting, but un-forgettable.

What a performance Billy gave that night...and he didn't look like he ever 'practiced' ...he just made it up as he went along, or so it seemed. (the same night he did a monologue on the pre-flight safety demo on an airplane, ...' and there ye are, in the middle of the freezin' Atlantic, a thousand miles from the nearest shore, bobbin'up and down amongst the 350-foot waves in the pitch-dark, blowing like mad on this little plastic toy whistle while trying to remember the dots and dashes of Morse code as you punch out SOS's or SOB's on this teensey-weensey flash-light that the battery seems to be dieing on and no-one could see at ten foot range anyhow....sadistic torture...thats what it is, a fiendish plot by the cabin crew to make you feel safe while they rush back up to join the captain in the cockpit for a final cocktail before take-off..')

Anyway, back to the wrestling match. Billy told this tale in the haggis-thick, Pictish accent of an inner-city Glaswegian...unintelligible to most Americans I would imagine as it sounded like a cross between a Brave-Heart war-cry and a Chainsaw on full-throttle! I can still see Billy's maniacal facial expressiona, the eye-popping, vein-throbbing, facial-gnurling grimaces, accompanied by a spastic lip-curl and rabid chin-drool, all lending complete credence to the deathly effect the Pretzel-Nelson hold was having on the unfortunate street challenger, while the huge, sweaty, bearded Cossack, smelling of ten-day-old eau-de-ursus prepared to deliver the final back-snapping squeeze...and then afterwards he answers his trainer's question..and in full voice, Billy joyously evokes the punchline...which in his version goes somewhat like...

 '...Och, hoots mon, 'tis amazin' the strength ye get when ye bites yer ain Willie'!

Then you knew for sure it wasn't an Irish story....Sure no-one in Ireland is hung like a Scotsman!

Aaah...happy memories... you had to be there!

Some of the people some of the time

Economist and Author David McWilliams gathered the best minds of the Irish Diaspora to Farmleigh from September 19-20 for an Irish Economic Crisis Conference.

‘‘a national effort to reach out to the most successful and influential members of Ireland’s diaspora to facilitate their work and contribution to economic recovery’’. 

'And what was the result of this wonderful meeting', you ask?

I  cannot re-seal a vacuum, nor not keep a shared secret...y'see, at Farmeligh, when all the land's intelligentsia had been gathered together from the three corners of the globe, by Royal Summons no less, the talks began and the hot air rose and rose and soon, even the building swelled with their importance and Farmleigh got bigger and bigger and was fit to bust with all the ideas and brainwaves bandying about, pushing at out the doors and windows, suffocating for the lack of air, and all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't get out of the way fast enough when King Cowan took the microphone, for they knew it was going to blow, or so they thought, but alack, all he did was glare at them, for having sucked them dry of ideas and soaked up their limelight with one fell yawn, he knew, right there and then, that he could fool all of them all of the time, while standing on one leg, and so he said nought (of importance), burped a little, and smiled that knowing, wry little smile, and the whole house settled back down on their hinds and after they were foddered, they all left for the other, bigger house to speak in tongues and relate all they had seen and heard, but they were put under a spell by the wicked witch with the whip and they all forgot the wondrous ideas they'd been told and they fell asleep for forty days, and not long later a handsome prince came among them and kissed Queen Harney on both cheeks, breaking the spell and they awoke, stretched (the truth and our patience), and went off on their holidays for Christmas and they all lived happlily ever after!


The end.....!

Or somewhat loike that I guess! (unless you heard different)

Men at Work at Christmas

A lot has been said in the past year about our public servants and their easy terms of employment. Some of the criticism is no doubt warranted, but I would like to publicly thank the 4 men from Galway County Council's Water Department (Spiddal/Moycullen area) who today, the 31st of December at 3pm, arrived out to my house and identified and fixed a burst water main under the frozen road at Paddys Cross, Barna.

Our house was a disaster over Christmas. We had had no water pressure since the 23rd of December and put it down to either frozen pipes inside my house, or more likely a drop in mains pressure owing to the common practice of home and business-owners opening their taps up during a cold-snap in order to prevent their water pipes from freezing. Thats all very well, but multiply that by every house and business and farm in the west of Ireland and you soon realise that water, while plentiful in Galway this year, what with the floods and all in October and November, will pretty soon become a scarce commodity if everyone is letting our potable water run off into the drains, just to stop it freezing!

My wife worked over Christmas in the hospital and had nowhere to shower or wash, or clean uniforms etc. My two teenage daughters fled the roost shortly after Christmas day, declaring our house 'The Pits' and my son and I, well we had stuiff to do, like hefting 35 x 5 liter bottles of water each day up to the attic and filling our water tank. At least we worked up an appetite for the left-over Turkey!

As it turned out many areas around Galway have had similar water problems all over Christmas and the New Year and no doubt many more will suffer similarly, after the thaw, when leaks and burst pipes will re-open and many families like ours, will have had to shower and otherwise cope with pails of water drawn from relatives or neighbors houses. It re-affirms my belief that water is the next big commodity in the world and investment in infrastructure, particularly in water systems is of paramount importance for Ireland as quality and renewable supplies of potable water becomes a more and more scarce resource.

I didn't see any county engineers or managers in their expensed cars running around making sure essential services were maintained over the holiday period. Similarly, no one made announcements on Galway Bay FM or in the local papers. No special notices were posted on the Galway county and city councils websites or answering machines! And I know they were not manning their department desks because I had called every number I could get my hands on from 26th December to the 30th, seeking some re-assurance on my water supply's restoration. I even phoned the police and fire service, wondering if they had numbers that might lead to someone on duty over Christmas, all to no avail.

In the end, I phoned the County Council Water Dept on the 30th, when they re-opened after the holidays and the lady who answered helpfully told me that her family in Moycullen also had no water since Stephen's day! Misery indeed does love company! Anyway, she promised to let the Spiddal work crew know and sure enough on the evening of the 31st, a very busy, Mickey Faherty showed up with his rather intrigueing 'listening device'. In fairness to him, in no time at all he had verified that it was a mains problem (not frozen pipes in my house, which I would have believed) and he called his work crew, who were finishing off another leak in the locality. They arrived and within one hour had fixed the problem and restored water to us.

I took this photo of them repairing the broken mains pipe at 4.30pm on New Year's Eve, of the men, their digger being ably supervised by my son, our dog Puff and the two snowmen we had made the night before as a complete co-incidence. All they were missing were two shovels to lean on!

So, spare a thought for these 4 men from Galway County Council, and indeed the many other teams from the fire departments and the city and county councils have been working non-stop, in terribly cold conditions over the past week, to ensure a happy Christmas for those of us suffering from a water shortage this winter.  They are the €10 per hour workers keeping the front line services open. These are the same workers who just had their wages cut twice last year by the government Budgets.

Thanks again guys and I hope you all enjoyed a Happy New Year, at home with your families.

Christmas Letter

December 2009

Hard to believe that a whole year has whooshed by again, but time and tide (and Christmas shopping) wait for no man and inevitably, the first Christmas card dropped into our letter-box around the 20th of November. Too early one might say for good manners, yet late enough not to be confused with a delayed Halloween card. This year’s first card was special though, as the card was over-sized, under-stamped and out of date! Naturally we wondered who might have sent it. A favourite aunt, a neighbour from the past, a former classmate? Our first card is usually from someone we are unrelated to, have never met, never heard of and never did business with. One year it even came from our local politician, the one we didn’t vote for!

No, this time it was from none of the above, because, surprise, surprise, it came from me!

Yes, it was a card I had belatedly sent on last Christmas eve, to friends I had forgotten, overlooked in the Christmas rush and hadn’t sent a card to, but they hadn’t forgotten us and so mine was one of those cards that one hurriedly pens at the 11th hour, embarrassed at ones tardiness and forgetfulness. This one was particularly nice, a charity card, from last year’s Parkinson’s batch, with a scene that wasn’t quite appropriate, but I liked, for its quirkiness.

Anyway, suffice it to say, the sentiment was long-winded, the glue was over-licked, the stamp upside-down and the address, yes, the most important piece, was incomplete and faded to a blue smudge, unlike my return address, a day-glow sticker, still attached to the upper left hand corner. Don’t ask me? It could have been the heavy rain last December, or that impromptu session at Donnelly’s Pub on Christmas Eve, but either way, it just never stood a chance of being delivered anywhere, even by the most enthusiastic Poirrot-like Postie.

And so it came to pass that my mis-directed missive came to rest in a fold at the bottom of an old, damp post-bag somewhere in Barna’s little post-office, where it lay forgotten all Spring, and Summer, and Halloween, until last week, when the first of the seasonal staff was told to get the bags down from storage and start delivering the Holiday mail! No doubt even the postman was surprised to see this letter from the past in his bag this morning, but true to the motto on his badge, the heavy rains and floods of this November did not stop him bringing it back to the sender! So Merry Christmas you, our friend, you know who you are, and thanks for your early card this year! We will be sure to include you in our first tranche this year!

By the time you receive this note, the girls will have finished their Christmas exams in Galway University, (3rd Commerce and 2nd Psychology resp). David will have put away his trumpet after playing with the carollers in Shop Street for his School’s adopted charity, ‘To Russia (with love)’, that send toys and clothing to orphanages in the former Soviet satellite states, and we will be stuffing the Turkey for Christmas dinner with the grand- parents at our house in Barna. So, another Christmas, another year coming to a close, and another chance for us to say thanks for all we have, thanks to all our friends and may you all have a lovely Christmas holiday, happy, safe and healthy.

Merry Christmas Everybody

Winter 1962/63 v's 2009/2010 - Walking on thin Ice - Priceless

An old schoolmate of mine reminded me of the wonderland that was Loughrea when the lake froze over in 1963, him having heard a cautionary interview on Radio the day before about walking on thin ice.

Though just a kid I remember being part of a group walking across the lake from Long Point to Cooreen, via Island McHugo and the Bishop's. I was just talking to my sister about it yesterday, recounting Norman Morgan's attempt to prove that Volkswagen Beetles were capable of floating...well of Ice-Roadin' at least, before the car went through the ice at the Grove at the County Home. She told me about the parties the teenagers had on the smaller Islands beyond the barracks and the few Tynagh Mine-brats' who actually had real Ice-Skates. One couple had brought real snow Skis from Canada with them! What were they thinking when they emigrated to the west of Ireland?

Dad built us a toboggan, a wooden sled on which he dragged a bunch of us across the frozen lake pulling the rope with one hand, while holding four rather bemused looking greyhounds on leashes with the other. I remember being simultaneously terrified of drowning in an icy hole in the middle of the lake, while wishing this magical dream would never end!

My memories are those of a child, no doubt exaggerated and inaccurate, but I remember what seemed like the whole town being out on the ice that time. I still have memories of skimming stones at Flaggy Meadow, the stones bouncing and skidding for hundreds of yards across the frozen lake waters. The bigger boys competing, 'can you make the island with the next stone' and 'mine went a half-a-mile, way past yours'. The eerie echo of the ice cracking and the stones zing-ing, ricocheting and thunking across the unexpected artic plain, and the silence only punctuated by the nervous excited cries of children with their mouths agog at the impossibility of walking on water.

Later on I remember the ice thawing and our parents being more cautious about letting us wander near the lake. Nonetheless I remember an older boy crashing through the ice at Flaggy Meadow, opposite O'Briens and watching in horror as he struggled, knowing for sure, he was going to drown, watching helplessly as a child does, recording his inevitable demise, only to see him rise like a phoenix, as he successively clambered up on, and broke through plate after plate of ice, until he reached a shallow enough point to finally get back up on the ice. Funny thing I remember going through the ice myself at the back of the Temperance hall, sliding along the frozen slides and suddenly being neck deep in very cold water. The thing is, I don't remember going home to change, we just continued playing on our new winter playground. No wonder I had asthma as a kid!

But no-one died, nor even had a bad fall it seemed, only great gobs of innocent fun! No X-Box back then!
I recall visiting the islands in our boat years later and seeing the remains of the bonfires the older teenagers lit to enjoy their illicit beers and late-night sing-songs and surreptitious snogs on a heretofore inaccessible part of their town. The scandal of what went on at those parties seems to have been more the talk of the town than the absolute lifetime event of being able to Jesus-walk across the lake to see the Bishops Palace!

Yes indeed, looking back now, we really did have an impoverished and dull childhood in Loughrea in the sixties. Nothing exciting ever happened back then! Duh!

And so, yesterday, and admiddedly, initially with great trepidation, I walked and kicked a soccer ball from Long Point to Fair Green, with my 10-year old son David, his buddy Breffni, and my friends, Brian and Paddy, on the frozen lake at Loughrea. This is the first time since 1963 that the whole lake has frozen so completely over, though it did freeze pretty hard too in 1982 as the younger Paddy and Brian reminded me, the old man.

Dull, sleeting and very cold...but the lake was a magical playground. Frozen completely, up to 4 inches thick where we checked one ice-hole off Long Point where someone tried ice-fishing in...though not all of the lake is walkable especially near Island McHugo, where a fiercely audible ice-crack sent us scampering like frightened lemmings back towards the relative safety of the Point.

Hundreds of people were wandering on the ice all day (indeed all week apparently)...we saw 2 teenage girls with ice skates, that were capably navigating the biggest ice-rink in Ireland. One guy with snow skis, (he's from Tynagh, brought them back from San Francisco 3 years ago...what was he thinking when he remigrated back here?) and a carefree geezer on a push-bike, buzzed us twice, meandering happily all over the lake, beaming in his hi-viz jacket!

Poles, Brazillians and Latvians mixed with equally bemused locals....it's become quite the tourist attraction...even the guardai were chilling...not interfering. No sign of anyone taking a car out on the ice yet, though I suspect it would bear it. Baffle were preparing for a hot-wine and poetry reading sessiun on the little crannog island behind the Barracks at 4.30pm.....I wish we could've waited!

Perhaps little David will catch it next time round, maybe with his son! There are some things money just can't buy! Walking on thin ice with your son...Priceless!

As Lucky as a Cut Cat - Liam Clancy

'The Yellow Bittern - The life and times of Liam Clancy'.
Outstanding...Raw. Saw it on RTE tonight.Rather different kind of show. Revealing, but believable tale told by Liam Clancy about the Clancy Bros' (and Tommy Makem's) unlikely yet extraordinary success in Show Business. Brilliant footage, open mike.

Mayo and the Titanic - A Tale Worth Telling

My Brother Paul is the local Doctor (GP) in Lahardane, in the parish of Addergoole, in County Mayo, Ireland. It is a 'sleepy hollow' sort of place, an idyllic little village dominated by Nephin mountain to the west and Lough Conn to the east. Aside from his rural GP practice (yes he still does house calls), he has some pretty diverse interests, including volunteering as the Medic on Croagh Patrick each year for the Reek Sunday climb. He is also an avid cross-country walker, hiking up Nephin mountain or re-tracing the pathways of the ancient cattle-drover trails between Belmullet and Newport. Of course, needless to say, his activities have always provided me with plenty of fodder for my 'Blog from the Bog'


Anyway, for more than twenty years now, Paul has been researching a long-forgotten story about a group of fourteen emigrants from his parish, who went to America in 1912. He first heard of it from a very old patient of his, who before he died, recounted to Paul his personal memories of the people involved. He told Paul an astonishing tale of a group of brave young emigrants from Addergoole who just happened to sail to America on the Titanic! Go Figure, what were the odds on that? Only three of the fourteen from Addergoole survived Titanic's sinking and for nearly a hundred years only those families directly involved had any memory of this calamitous event. For the rest of the community, it was just too painful, too tragic and they stoically put it behind them as they struggled to move on with their lives.

Now Paul and a group of like-minded individuals from Mayo hope to commemorate the story of these tragic emigrants and build a fitting memorial to them, in time for the centenary of the Titanic's sinking, in 2012.

I helped them to create a web site http://www.addergoole-titanic.com to tell this extraordinary story and to provide some background for anyone interested in the history of emigration from Mayo and Ireland. Researching their story transported me to a different Ireland, an Ireland ravaged by famine, poverty, rebellion, politics, land-agitation and persecution, but under-pinned by people whose courage, faith, pride, hope and ambition never deserted them despite the hardships they endured.

Working on this project helped me realise how much Ireland has changed, how really fortunate we are to lead such un-troubled lives nowadays and how much we now take for granted.

I hope you find a moment to look through the web site and read about these fourteen ambitious young people and their eventual sad fate. If you do enjoy a good story and have an empathy to their tale, please pass it on to others who may enjoy it too.

So! Are you up for a challenge?
How many people from Mayo do you know? How many people do you know with at least 1 Mayo Connection? (Parent, Grand-parent, Cousin, Friend, An 'in-law', whatever?) How many of them would be interested to hear about a true tale of Hope, Heart and Heart-break?

A story so moving, everyone who ever left Mayo for a better life abroad should cherish and tell their children and grand-children! Can we put Addergoole and this astonishing Titanic Tale on the map? Can we get a few thousand hits on http://www.addergoole-titanic.com this week? Please tell your Mayo Connections to visit the web site or to visit their Facebook Page. http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=93489723478 or both!

You could even join their mailing list and come along and ring the bells in Lahardane on the anniversary each April 15, at 2.20am!

Now that's another story well worth telling!