They say no one ever remembers the runner up. St Ita seems to be such a person, often described as the Bridgid of Munster, highlighting her position in the pantheon of Irish female saints, a close second to Bridgid of Kildare. So unlike Bridgid who’s life and...
This weekend marks an renewal of an old tradition, the Senior Citizens party. I recall many years back the parties going on in the Reading Room and as youngsters we passed by and could hear the voices and the music and do our best to avoid the cars...
As a child there was a popular song by Glenn Campbell called Rhinestone Cowboy. Somehow, it wound its way into the local parlance, often sang about the exploits of a certain fisherman who worked Ryan’s shore (or the shore) for a living. It could have...
Snowhill was, until recently, a mystery to me. As a child I assumed it had to do with snowdrops, the late winter/early spring blooms that lift your spirits and reassure you that warmer, longer days are on the way. Later I was told it’s origins related to an...
As a young boy fishing in the river, the one thing I hated more than anything, was keeping up to the nets with an oar. Pity the boy that let his mind wander and the boat blow off the nets, or worse, onto the mud on the flood tide on the coolagh (cool ya) mud. I first...
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