Waterford Harbour Tides & Tales

23/12/202023/12/2020

So this is Christmas…2020

Well, 2020 has been a strange one, to say the least. A year where we saw Irish politics altered in a government formed of consonants and contrarians that was just missing a Big Brother/Love Island narrator. A pandemic that saw us hit pause in our schedules but ‘Continue Watching’ on our streaming services. We fell in love with Connell & Marianne, out of love with Zoom Calls and quizzes; but knowing that we never needed to hear the words “fancy a cuppa & a chat” more than ever before. We found new addictions like The Last Dance or The Nobody Zone, became masters of banana bread baking while the election turmoil in the United States appeared to offer a reprieve (from general monotony) before the real fare of the All-Ireland championship gave us Liam Cahill dancing a jig on the Croke Park side-line that would have made Michael Flatley blush.

This year ranged from Shakespearian tragedy to screwball farce (golfgate & Rudy Giuliani to name but two) while our frontline services and their heroic endeavours surpass Arthurian legend. It was the strangest and toughest of years, but we’ve been here before. Could the words of Charles Dickens (the man who invented Christmas) ever be more applicable than from A Tale of Two Cities – ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…’

From the Pharisees to Faithlegg: St. Ita

One could argue that Waterford has had a connection to Christmas from the start of the story itself. As Mary and Joseph travelled to Bethlehem where Jesus was born in a stable, the tale has a Waterford connection. St. Ita of Killeedy born in Faithlegg, County Waterford around 480 and known as the foster mother of the saints of Erin, was devoted to the Christ child with the poem Ísucán (cited in The martyrology of Óengus) depicting her nursing the infant Jesus. The reason for which was a logical way to fill the void of replacing her pet beetle. Yes, you have read that correctly. An unusual connection between the Pharisees and Faithlegg! Though Jenny Bledsoe concludes that “St. Ita’s tradition manifests a variety of forms of spiritual motherhood”. It’s not what Ita may or may not have done but rather that what she represents that is important.

She was seen to embody the ‘Six Gifts of Irish womanhood’ in the Celtic tradition; wisdom, purity, beauty, music, sweet speech and embroidery. It seems that Eleanor McEvoy’s A Woman’s Heart was for her – “as only a woman’s heart can know”. And just in case you’d like to mark your 2021 calendar, don’t forget Ita’s feast day is the 15^th January. Even if you’re not religious like myself it would be nice to note the strength of the women in our lives on a more regular basis. Maybe the whole Woman’s Heart album might be played that day. Mary O’Neill and Ollie Carroll get the vinyl ready!

Caring is Sharing & the Gift is in the Giving: Waterford Toy Shops

As families rush to gather gifts for Christmas this year, spare a thought for C.V. K. of the Munster Express when he noted (in 1948) the toy shops Waterford could boast back in the early 1920s:

In the district of Waterford in which I grew up, we had – as it were – our own parochial toy shop, where all the year round we bought, at appropriate seasons, our marbles, hoops, tops, fishing nets, squibs, etc. That shop was…in Patrick Street and was owned in those days by Mrs. Manahan…her stock was always well stocked with the right kind of seasonal fare, and we seldom took our custom elsewhere, except perhaps a little farther down Patrick Street to Misses Nolan’s shop…

As we got bigger and ventured further afield down to Broad Street, we found that J.G. McCaul’s…shop had many more pretentious offerings in the line of toys, and here it was that many of us saw, for the first time, such modern wonders as trains on tracks, air rifles, Meccano sets, chemistry sets for the manufacture amongst other things of “stink bombs”…

In these pre-Woolworth days, the cheaper and less elaborate type of toy could always be purchased at Messrs. Power’s bookshop in Michael Street, and if we left our purchasing until as late as possible on Christmas Eve, we were always sure of a bargain in the drive to sell out Christmas stock before it went out of season…

…The shop of the late Mrs. Katie Dawson on The Quay, was another Christmas rendezvous of Waterford boys of my time, and here one could purchase cowboy suits…

This year will see the new Play Station top the Christmas list of many, while the cowboys of yesteryear such as Roy Rogers and John Wayne have been replaced by the Mandalorian and Stranger Things (if you pardon the pun). Air rifles now seem quaint to the capabilities of the new smart phone where likes on Instagram are akin to the games of Christmases gone bye. Still, it’s hard to beat the refrain of Shakin’ Stevens: ‘children playing, having fun’.

Driving Home for Christmas

In keeping with a musical vein, many will be listening to Chris Rea’s Driving Home for Christmas with some hope of the holiday ahead. But many will be filled with a bittersweetness such as for those who can’t make it home; from wherever green is worn like the United States, Australia and New Zealand. Though we will echo the thoughts of drive safely wherever you are.

For instance on the 23^rd December 1929, a motor lorry driven by T. Baldwin of Passage East, lost control of his vehicle and crashed into the iron railings of the Redmond Bridge. It was believed that the steering gear went and with carrying a large load, the lorry began to slip back on the slight incline and crashed. Luckily for Baldwin he was uninjured though the bridge had seen better days. Apparently, the city engineer wasn’t happy to inspect the damage on Christmas Eve, but he was just told to build a bridge and get over it. I should be writing the jokes for the crackers with that one.

The festive season can be a very difficult time for many. We only need to look at the story of Larry Griffin, the Missing Postman of Stradbally, whose family never saw him again after Christmas Day 1929. Over 90 years later his descendants still look for answers of what occurred in a small rural community. Though in tough times, we as a people can display our greatest character. We see Christmas as a time of giving, such as to charity.

Even with the pandemic of 2020 we still see the issue of homelessness still rife in a country that purports to be one of the most modern and diverse in the western world. Sadly homelessness is not a new tale around Christmas time. We have the story of the death of Patrick Kennedy of Lissellan, Tramore on the 26^th December 1932. Kennedy aged 49 was stated to have died as the result of “heart failure” due to “starvation and want of proper care.” Ireland was a bleak place economically for large parts of the 20^th century as the Great Depression worldwide and the economic war with Britain led to many being unemployed and destitute in the 1930s.

Kennedy had no work and was living for a time with his mother. His wife Bridget and two children stayed with their aunt but as Kennedy was earning no wage there was no financial support. While he lived with his mother and brother Martin, they survived on her pension of 10 shillings a week. The labourers cabin had two bedrooms, a kitchen, an earthen floor which was moist and muddy, no beds while the roof was as porous as a cullender. Such cramped confines led Patrick to look and beg for other quarters to reside in. So stark were Kennedy’s circumstances he lived in a shed for three months where his only warmth came from wearing two overcoats. They never complained nor sought help. Was it pride of a family or neglect of a society? Nevertheless, it cost Martin Kennedy his life that Christmas 1932.

Looking Back, Looking Forward

Christmas gives us a chance to pause and look back at our year or even life. Nostalgia is a plenty and hope is ever eternal. As we enter the period of completing endeavours and creating resolutions, remember the story of the author Morley Roberts. Roberts spent Christmas 1937 awaiting the publication of his book Bio-Politics which had taken him 50 years to write. At 80 years of age, he had already published over 70 books; mostly novels but had an affection for Waterford. A friend of Edmund Downey (novelist and owner of the Waterford News), Roberts had written a short story and poem about Waterford published in the Green & Gold magazine. Such was his interest in Waterford (which he visited two or three times) it was noted by the editor of the Waterford News that Roberts had ‘once wrote a letter to us in which he proposed a novel remedy for partition – a remedy too drastic for publication.’ And we wonder where Boris Johnson got his theories from?

Turkeys loaded in carts on the quay of Waterford – early 1900’s

The lesson would appear to be that no matter how far we come, be it from the beginning to end of a year, one Christmas to the next, completing education or starting a new job; there is always the hope and thirst for more. For many in the UK and Ireland, Christmas was made by Val Doonican whose rocking chair style and festive cardigan wear was compulsory viewing. His album Val Doonican Rocks, But Gently managed to knock The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper off the top of the charts in December 1967. In fact, it was harder to get the Waterford man’s LP in his hometown then it was in England, not because of it’s popularity but due to a distribution problem as a result of foot and mouth. I for one know my father will have Val on in the car this Christmas. Before I use to raise my eyes upon hearing the album playing but now I can’t imagine the festive season without it.

As you can see Christmas has seen difficult times before. Though it may not mirror that of EastEnders I think many will be glad for 2020 to be ending. Though we’ve had wonderful moments too such as Adam King (whose dad Dave hails from Dungarvan) who captured the hearts of a nation and reminded us no matter what obstacles, hugs can be given and dreams are there for us all. Some will dream of a White Christmas a la Bing Crosby. Others will not stop believing like Journey in the quest for Liam McCarthy. But Adam reminded me of a song that always comes to mind with Val Doonican, I can sing a rainbow. May we see brighter days ahead and all the colours of the rainbow.

So if you’re spending your Christmas in Ballyhack or Ballybeg, reading the excellent Waterford Harbour: Tides and Tales by Andrew Doherty or listening to Val, have a very happy Christmas.

Thanks to Cian Manning for this wonderful reflection on a year that we will all want to forget. If you want to experience more of Cians work you will find him on Twitter where he regularly promotes his blogs on his twin interests of Waterfords history and sport. He is also the author of the excellent Waterford City, A History. Currently available in the Book Centre Waterford

23/12/202024/12/2020

Christmas Eve, New Ross Port 1840

I would like to thank Myles Courtney for passing this along to me for Christmas. I shared it with my facebook followers yesterday so this is just for those blog followers who are not on social media to enjoy. Wishing you a happy Christmas. Andrew

It was Christmas Eve 1840, when I left my hospitable lodging in Rosbercon & wandered down to the quayside of that historic village. A full moon shone like a golden orb, of the richest hues, among the twinkling stars in a cloudless sky, casting its pale light down on the river Barrow. The winter tide was full in & not a ripple appeared on the surface; the calm of the night was a joy to behold. Instead of the savage river that so often had claimed innocent victims, including the much lamented James Freyne of Ballyreddy, it is now one big placid bowl. The harbour was full of ships from many nations, some bringing in cargo & others bringing away the local produce to far off lands.

New Ross, looking downriver. *via New Ross Street Focus*

All sizes of boats lay at anchor in what can only be described as a sylvan scene, something that the artist could do justice to with his brush & canvas. My attention was drawn to a sailing ship anchored near the Rosbercon shore. She was well lit up, with many lanterns casting a cheerful glow onto the still waters of the lake-like river. Suddenly from up on deck, the silence of the night was broken by the sound of a powerful tenor voice. The words were hard to grasp, but the tune was easily recognisable; it was a song for the season that was in it- “O Silent Night”. The young Italian, he from a land so famous for its music & singers, gave a virtuoso performance that night, by the harbour wall. The rendition would have done credit to him on the stages of the music halls of Milan or Naples. Soon, all the crews of other ships joined in the singing; & although the languages were different, the joy & meaning of the carol remained intact.

O Solo Mio, you proud son of Italy, you made the Christmas Eve of 1840 something to be remembered & savoured by all who were privileged to hear you.

Author: Unknown: Source: A Historical Century, New Ross Historical Society… Via Myles Courtney of New Ross Street Focus

19/12/202019/12/2020

Dauntless Courage – Book Review

The arrival of Dauntless Courage, Celebrating the History of the RNLI Lifeboats, their crews and the Maritime Heritage of the Dunmore East Community was greeted with a wave of conflicting emotions this week. Joy at seeing the book finally in print, tears of relief after two years of work and pride in the satisfaction of realising a book conceived and raised within a community of volunteers that makes up the RNLI.

Opening the book was a thrill, and the satisfaction of the smell of all those tightly bound hard covered pages only heightened the expectation that comes whenever I open a book. Sometimes the first impressions are let down however, but not in this instance. From the wonderful historic painting on the cover by local marine artist Brian Cleare through to the hundreds of photos and images on the inside, the quality of all are amazing and really bring the book to life.

Running to almost 380 pages author David Carroll takes us on a journey through Dunmore. Quite rightly in my view, David doesn’t start with the first lifeboat, Henry Dodd, in 1884. He starts from the outset of the small little fishing hamlet through to the building of the pier and the coming of the mail packet. Throughout, David continues to ground the lifeboat service in the community of Dunmore and in the life and times of the community which serves to remind the reader that unlike perhaps any other volunteer service, the RNLI relies on the maritime community in which it resides.

David captures some of the more heroic rescues of the past such as the rescue of five fishermen aboard the St Declan in 1952 which saw Paddy Billy Power and Richard Power receive awards for their valour through to the more mundane, but no less important shouts such as the provisioning and repairs to the SS Pauline in Tramore Bay in December 1932. The book is so up to date, it even includes the Lily B rescue carried out off the Hook in October of this year.

There are also the first person accounts from personalities in the area, people that are synonymous with the service such as Joefy Murphy, Frances Glody or John Walsh. Sadly one of those recorded died before the book came to print, Stephen Whittle. But this just highlights the importance of the book still further, in capturing and recording the first person accounts of those who have given so much.

It also records the crew, and the photos of those behind the scenes, the station support, the fundraising committee, the less glamorous jobs but without which such a service has no hope of maintaining itself.

The book is a testament to the volunteer committee that established around David to fundraise to bring the book to fruition. It is also a timely boost to the fundraising fortunes of the station in these covid restrictive times. But it is also a testament to the abilities of David Carroll, ably supported by his wife Pauline, and his deep regard for Dunmore and the people of the RNLI that the book has come to print.

David in company with Brendan Dunne; lifeboat volunteer and a driving force behind the project

Dauntless Courage, Celebrating the History of the RNLI Lifeboats, their crews and the Maritime Heritage of the Dunmore East Community is David’s first book, but I hope it won’t be his last. It deserves to be read by anyone with an interest in Dunmore East, anyone who enjoys maritime history, and anyone who supports the work of the RNLI.

The book is currently flying off the shelves. For stockists of the book and online orders check out the project website

14/12/202015/12/2020

Saving the stricken St Declan December 1950

On the week that Dauntless Courage arrives from the publishers to local shops, I asked author David Carroll to whet the appetite with a short guest blog, and he has chosen an On This Day post about a rescue that is legendary in Dunmore East due to the skill and bravery shown by the lifeboat crew in rescuing local fishermen.

On Thursday, December 14, 1950, the Dunmore East lifeboat Annie Blanche Smith was called out and the Munster Express of the following day, reported as follows:

IN THE NICK OF TIME
Dunmore Fishing Crew Saved from Certain Death
LIFEBOAT BRAVES SNOW, BLIZZARD AND HIGH SEAS
Last night (Thursday) at 8 o’clock, the fishing boats were coming into Dunmore, having been out since 10a.m. that day when it was reported to Mr. Arthur Westcott-Pitt, that flares were seen three miles west of Dunmore, off the dangerous Falskirt Rocks, near Rathmoylan Cove. Immediately Mr. Pitt ordered the lifeboat to go to sea to their assistance. At the time there was a terrific snow blizzard, with visibility practically nil, and it was doubtful if the lifeboat would be able to see the boat in distress.

…a very high south-easterly wind prevailed. The lifeboat left Dunmore at 8pm and nothing more was seen or heard of her for over two hours by watchers on the cliffs. Then the lifeboat appeared towing back McGrath’s fishing boat. What happened in the meantime can only be described as one of the most gallant feats of the Lifeboat Institution, thanks to the bravery of the Dunmore crew, which was as follows: Patrick Power (coxswain), Rd Power (second coxswain), Richard Murphy (chief mechanic) Michael Whittle (second mechanic), Maurice Power (deck hand).

The lifeboat crew searched the sea for the boat, and at first were unable to locate it and then to their amazement, found her a ship’s length of going on the Falskirt Rocks. To the utmost risk of the lifeboat and crew, the members went in amongst the rocks.

The distressed boat had previously dropped an anchor and sent out flares, but owing to the big seas, the anchor chain was smashed. To slow up the boat from making towards the cliffs-and their doom-the fishing crew threw out the herring nets, and this formed a brake slowing their relentless momentum towards the rocks and subsequent drowning.

Falskirt on a calm day. Photo Neville Murphy

Just in the nick of time, the lifeboat crew threw them a line and saved them. In only a matter of moments, the fishing boat would have been smashed to atoms, with the loss of five men.
It appears that the engine of the fishing boat had failed a few hours previously when they sent up flares and threw out the anchor. But for great fortune and the bravery of the lifeboatmen, the fishermen would likely to have been lost in a night of terrible conditions.
Mr Westcott-Pitt wrote the following at the end of the Service Report:

I would particularly like to bring to your notice the bravery of the Coxswain and 2nd Coxswain who successfully carried out a wonderful rescue. The 2nd Coxswain at the wheel took the lifeboat into the half submerged Falskirt Rocks in a snow blizzard during a full SE gale with the full knowledge that herring nets were drifting all around so as to enable the Coxswain to get a line on board the St Declan thus to rescue the five men- who were certainly doomed but for the brave and cool courage of the Cox, 2nd Cox and crew.

*John (Rocky) Power was listed in the official Service Report as a member of the crew. His name was omitted from the newspaper account. Skipper of the Saint Declan was Paddy Matty Power. Also, aboard was John Dunne of Coxtown, a stalwart of the lifeboat crew for many years, Jack Whittle, Dick Bulligan Power and Davy O’Rourke.

The Munster Express dated February 16, 1951 carried the following report:

GALLANTRY OF DUNMORE EAST LIFEBOAT MEN
R.N.L.I. Awards for Rescue in Gale
The R.N.L.I. has awarded to Coxswain Patrick Power of its lifeboat at Dunmore East, Co. Waterford, a clasp to the bronze medal for gallantry which he won in 1941; the bronze medal to Second-Coxswain Richard Power and £3 10s. to them and each other member of the crew, for the rescue on the night of December 14 of the fishing boat, “St. Declan” and her crew in a gale with blizzards of snow.
The lifeboat found the fishing boat close to the dangerous Falskirt Rocks. She was riding to her nets. In a few minutes she would have struck the rocks, the nets would have closed round her, and a rescue been impossible.
The lifeboat went close to her, a line was thrown, and using 80 fathoms anchor cable, the lifeboat towed the fishing boat clear. This was done in extreme darkness in the teeth of the gale, with the tide running against the wind and a high sea breaking fiercely on the rocks. The lifeboat was handled with great courage and superb seamanship.

The awards took place in London on March 13, 1951 at a RNLI ceremony, where presentation was made by the Duchess of Kent. Coxswain Paddy Billy Power was awarded a bar to the bronze medal which he won in 1941 and Second Coxswain Richard Power a bronze medal. Coxswain Edward Kavanagh of Wicklow was also a recipient at the same ceremony.

After the presentation, a spray of shamrock was given to the Duchess of Kent by the three men from Ireland. In her speech, the Duchess said “it was with great pleasure that she had an opportunity of acknowledging the bravery and courage of men from lifeboat stations in Ireland”. She said: “No praise is too high for the 2,000 men who, year after year, carry out their work of rescue with a cheerful disregard of the dangers of every kind which attend this work.”

Get David Carrolls new book on the
history of the Dunmore East RNLI, Dauntless Courage now!

Dauntless Courage

Thank you, David, what a stirring account of a dramatic rescue. I first heard of it while drifting for herring as a boy myself and the description of the lifeboat managing to get alongside a fishing boat in such conditions and with the driftnets all around, filled me with awe. Expect many such accounts in Dauntless Courage which will be in the local shops in Dunmore East, the Creamery, Burkes of Crooke, and Powers of Cheekpoint from this Wednesday afternoon. It will be in the Book Centre also and the committee that has worked so hard behind the scenes to support David will be at the Lifeboat Station in Dunmore East this Saturday 19th December between 11AM and 3.30PM and Sunday 20th December between 12PM and 3.00PM where pre-orders can be collected.

The Dunmore East area and the lifeboat fraternity, in particular, received some sad news at the weekend with the death of Agnes Abrahamsson. Agnes had a long family association with Dunmore East RNLI as a member of the Fundraising Branch, she was predeceased by her husband Walter who was a Coxswain/Mechanic for many years. Agnes was the mother of the current Coxswain/Mechanic Roy Abrahamsson. A sad loss, deepest sympathies to her family and friends. May she Rest In Peace. More information on her funeral arrangements here.

13/12/202013/12/2020

Getting to the Match. 2008 All Ireland Sunday

Sunday 7th September 2008 dawned bright and clear. A good day for a trip, and a good day for a match. Waterford were to meet Kilkenny in the All Ireland Hurling final and expectations were high. The season had got off to a slow start, with some controversy but had improved as the summer went on. My wife, Deena had been to almost every match with our son Joel and our eldest daughter Hannah and they had even featured on the Sunday Game in Thurles, and been spotted as far away as America, Dubai and Australia. But that Sunday she was journeying back from a wedding in Barcelona, the family car sitting at Cork Airport for her return. So it fell to me to get our son Joel to the match at Dublin’s Croke Park.

As we hadn’t got the tickets until late in the week (somehow Michael Spud Murphy wrangled a pair) the buses were sold out, as was the special event train. Luckily a neighbour, Ray McGrath, who had retired from teaching in Canada, was planning to go and he proposed we journey with him. We set off bright and early with the intention of getting the train from Wexford. But as we drove into Passage East to take the car ferry across, something was very amiss. The ferry was tied up at the quayside and there was not a crewman in sight. We wondered if we were too early, but with time ticking, Ray spun his battered Ford around and hurtled out of the village and up the new line. It might have been considered an ill-advised speed on any other occasion, what with the age of the car, and the condition of the roads, but not on All Ireland Sunday.

Hannah and Joel enjoying a feed of Ballybricken ribs in company with Dylan Bible and Amanda Farady

By New Ross, a new plan had formed. As we were this far, why not head to Enniscorthy and board there. Less of a drive, and we’d be quicker home. Arriving at the station, we got a bit of a start. There was no one else there. Dark thoughts started to enter the mind, but no words were spoken.

Five minutes later the first of a flood of cars arrived, and with it a lift in our mood and some lively banter. But it was not to last. A Kilkenny man, they were mostly black and amber about us, caused some upset when he queried if we had booked our tickets. Of course, we hadn’t and shur why would we. Then the cutting line…”shur everyone knows to book the Wexford Train on All Ireland Sunday, everyone who is used to heading to the All Ireland that is”. The emphasis on the word used not missed by any of the assembled Déise.

When the sound of the train was heard there was a surge of people towards the platform, but the Station Master appeared magically from out of the building, raising a commanding hand, and asking for ticket holders only. Ray turned to me and Joel and winking conspiratorially said “play along”. Grabbing Joel by the collar he turned and propelling him forward like some shield for protection he drove through to the official. Words were exchanged, but no movement was allowed. No ticket, no train. With this Ray launched into an impassioned oration. Reminding the official that this ad hoc rule was nowhere to be found on the CIE website and that this lus non scriptum was tantamount to an attack on our rights as citizens. At this, I perceived a marked thawing in the official. But Ray was only warming himself up and it was followed with a short and emotional recounting of his view from his father’s shoulders of the 1959 match. With this, he wheeled round to the gathering, and as if drawing encouragement and energy from the group he returned his forceful gaze to the official and went for the kill. “Would you…” addressing the station master, “be the one to deny me the opportunity to allow my son…”, turning to me “and my grandson…” lifting Joel up of the ground, “to see Waterford play, and they having journeyed 3000 miles from Canada to see the All Ireland final”.

Even the Kilkenny lads could see the injustice in this, albeit completely fictitious, account. The official crumpled to the sight of Joel looking him square in the eye, and the rousing cheer of the assembled crowd, or maybe it was just that so many ticket holders were being held up by the melee. Whatever it was, he stepped aside and we rushed through and were soon having tea and sandwiches looking out on the lapping waves of the Irish sea and we sped northwards. Joel’s only complaint was that if he had gone with his uncle Dylan on the special event train from Waterford he’d be eating Ballybricken Ribs!

If we thought that was to be the end of it, we were in for more. Having stopped in Wicklow station, we noticed little to concern us for the first five minutes. Spirits were good, the company was fine and we were in plenty of time for the match. After ten minutes some of the Kilkenny lads were getting a bit irritated. They had a minor final to get to as well, and wanted to be in plenty of time. The passing ticket collector was engaged, and he replied that it was nothing just some essential maintenance. Fifteen minutes and some of the Kilkenny lads were up and off, pacing along the platform, voices raised and anxiously glancing up the line. Not long after the first taxis started to arrive and we stopped the ticket collector again, and again we got the standard line. However, he was hurrying forward and it was said over a quickly retreating shoulder, running it appeared for the safety of the engine house.

When we eventually wandered out, doors were open up and down the train, and many of the carraiges were empty. There was not an official in sight and all manner of rumour was running. A mini bus arrived and a group of Kilkenny supporters piled in. In answer to what was going on another chap said the kilkenny lads had already got every taxi in town, and probably any available mini bus as well. Phone calls were made, CIE seemed to be taking the day off. Someone wandered down the town to see if they could find out what was going on. A few of us went up to the engine, and there the driver sat, at his idle controls and threw his eyes and hands up to heaven. Nothing he could do he said, there was essential maintence going on on the line outside of town and he could not move until the signal turned.

Next, the station master arrived. He could not confirm the train would be leaving any time soon and was rounded on by over 150 fans looking for reassurance they were going to see the match. He mumbled about seeing what he could do, then turned on his heels and disappeared. More time passed and at this stage, it was common knowledge that there was not a taxi or mini bus to be had in the town. We were less than an hour from throw-in and some said we may as well head to the pub at least we might get a seat there.

Finally that official re-emerged from the safety of his building. With great fanfare he announced that CIE had managed somehow, to secure buses to take us to the match. Gardí were alerted, and we could be waved through all the major junctions, we could also expect a Garda escort. Cheers went up when the first bus pulled up, and finally we were back on the move.

You might think that after all that, you would have to expect a happy ending. But the hopes of all the Déise, and the vast majority of neutrals, were to be dashed later that day. A sad day for the fans, but a horrible day for the Waterford players on the field. Here’s hoping this Sundays team have better luck. Déise Abú