I love television but there limitations, the Nolan visit to Maghaberry Prison doesn’t appeal to this viewer. When I was part of the Citizen’s Charter organisation I visited all the main prisons, except Long Kesh, and for me they were each a place apart and not somewhere to highlight and publicise the daily living of those inside as punishment and those who looked after them. It’s a bit like voyeurism just as the exposé on Russell Brand last night. I can’t comment I suppose as I didn’t watch it but to me it’s jumping on a bandwagon when there has been little time to research properly, just a chance to get viewing figures.
The rugby on the other hand is great live entertainment especially when you can hear the referee’s comments and Jim Reilly commentating on radio. Better still when you can pick your team and follow them through the tournament – obviously Ireland for me! Nor did I see Patrick Kielty on Friday night but the signs are good although some reckon he’s just getting a step on the ladder to American television, others believe the programme will fail unless they get a better quality of guest. If we had RTE I would be watching but no such luck so I depend on others opinions.
However I did catch up with BBC’s Casualty later in the evening and the second of two episodes was a most sensitive account of Jan and Gathin travelling to an end of life clinic in Switzerland where he took the final decision to end his life. I learned so much and I applaud the acting and the writing.
HEART BREAKING DISASTER
Another week of dreadful disasters, television footage captured the rampaging flood sweeping all before it as the waters burst from one dam above the Libyan city of Derna and the force of the water breached a second dam and the people below had no chance of survival, thousands dead and missing. Apparently many were still warm in bed, clothes laid out for the morning, breakfast ready to be prepared, books and papers lying around, children’s toys left to play another day, offices waiting for workers who never came, shops swept away. Can you begin to imagine? Nor can I.
Nor can I imagine being attacked by one of those big powerful ‘devil’ dogs. The American XLBully is a breed designed to kill. Six out of ten fatal dog attacks in the UK last year were linked to these dogs and at least three of the seven this year. Of course as with any animal controversy there are those for the ban and those against. However, listening to the mother whose son was savaged to death as she watched unable to stop what was happing, I would ban them immediately.
AN EXPERIENCE ESPECIALLY DESIGNED FOR OUR AMERICAN FRIENDS
“Ah, here comes the corpse!” A man walks into the bar – this is not a joke! He’s dressed in white shirt, black jacket, jeans and a black tie. He’s pale and maybe chilled as he walks straight to the glowing turf fire.
I’m in the Corner House in Ardara, Donegal and there is no doubt something is about to happen.
Suited and booted, or in this case trainers, the poor deceased Micky – a heathy looking Michael Rafferty – gets support from owner of the Corner House Stephen McCahill and baker Mary McHugh before the coach arrives and the Americans pile into the Wake House and get a real surprise!
Mary McHugh makes sure the locals have their drinks topped up. A fiddler comes in and joins the corpse at the fire. The man sitting beside me gives a deep sigh “I’m experiencing what do you call that thing – jet lag.” I ask has he travelled far. “I’ve just come from Fintown.” It’s about twelve miles away as the crow flies! There’s a lot of humour around in this pub, famous for its drink, music and craic, It’s cosy and warm on a dull day, Paddy Joe Breslin is full of chat, pictures round the walls boast famous people who have taken their ease in the Corner House. But there’s a wee hidden gem here too and it’s about to be exposed.
I wrote about this town some years ago, the bank was closing, shutters were going up, it was bleak and people were concerned. Since then they have taken life by the scruff of the neck and although there are still closures and difficulties, it’s a town of interest and growing prosperity.
A Positive Outlook
Lock-down gave time for renovating, houses were white washed, the bakery continued making Gallagher’s bread and a new distillery was established and today tourists arrive by the coach load from cruise ships docked in Killybegs. Most are Americans but you will hear all languages and accents here, French, Spanish, English and Croatians who are being housed in the near by hotel in the main street.
Earlier, in Charlie’s Cafe, my daughter and I had talked with men of the land, catching up on local news, prices and what to have to eat. I look no further than the homemade lasagne!
Passengers from the cruise are tourists, the rest of us are visitors and we’re made very welcome, as in the Corner House where a shout goes out – “They’re coming.” The corpse leaves the fire and scuttles down the back of the bar. A table stands to one side with a packet of flour, bread soda, salt and buttermilk, a silver bowl and a cup make up the display. Musicians Paddy, Joe and Declan take up their position in one corner and there’s an air of expectation.
“They’re here”. Owner Stephen McCahill flings open the doors and men and women of all shapes and sizes pile in, one thing in common, they are sailing round the UK and Ireland and they are all excited Americans. It’s fascinating. Mary welcomes them and directs them to seats at the musical end of the bar. Randal tells me he came from Des Moines and seems pleased that I know it’s near the Bridges of Madison County, the film set in Iowa. We exchange views on Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep and agree it was one of the best films ever made. Betty takes her seat and yells out: “This is a real Irish pub, the best thing about Ireland.” Another voice shouts: “Where’s the Guinness.” Camera’s are recording the visit to show once they got back home and Mother Ireland is but a memory.
Mary, who worked for many years in Nesbitt Arms Hotel, comes forward to the table and begins to make the mix for soda bread, she tells us the history, no scales so a cup was used for measuring, a pinch of salt was a good half handful, she works away mixing and binding, telling us about the corn that grew high and was harvested in September, milled to flour with the tall stalks used to thatch the cottage. She scores the mixture with the sign of the cross for good health and a nick on each corner to let the fairies out!
The Town Crier
Suddenly a local comes racing into the bar -“Bad news, bad news, Micky’s dead. He was taking the donkey over the river and they were swept away – they’re both dead, drowned,”
There’s confusion. Mary takes away her bread to the oven, the musicians seem shocked and as we are now in a wake house, we’re invited to pay our respects to – the corpse.
We file into the back room. The coffin is on a table, poor Micky is lying inside, a peaceful look on his face, hands folded across his chest. His brother Paddy Joe introduces us to the widow woman and her sister, both in black and glad of our condolences. “Where have you come from?’ She asks the Americans. “Florida,” says one. “Thank you for coming so far to be with us.” And so it goes on until about 50 mourners file past in reverence. One man is slow to leave, “Are you waiting for the will to be read?” asks the sister. He makes a hasty retreat!
Once they are all out and back in the bar singing along with a Daniel O’Donnell song and enjoying some of Mary’s freshly baked soda bread and the drink the deceased left behind the bar for everyone, Susie and I remain as ‘Micky’ rises from the dead ready to go back to work in Diver’s supermarket market further up the street.
“I nearly lost it when someone said she could see right up my nose,” says a very healthy Michael Rafferty who dies two or three times a day during the cruising season.
It’s all great craic, some of the Americans will be wondering to this day, was he or wasn’t he?
“Sure didn’t someone take your pulse last week,” asks his ‘wife’. Paddy Joe, is quick to report it was a nurse who wasn’t sure he was really dead: “Before she could pick up his wrist I told her, if you got a bit further down you might bring him back altogether!”
