The quay was more deserted then usual on my early morning dog walk. The chimneys empty of smoke, roads car free. The stunning view of the flood refilling the river, mists rolling back towards the ocean. A heron squawked and flew off when I got too close. It reminded me of a story I heard
The tiny stream beside our house was a favourite place to play. The bridge was a source of politics for our neighbours who claimed that either side of the small bridge was of equal importance. The question; “Are you on the Knoxtown side or the Killegney side?” became a well know statement and point of
How Vin lost his fin … Well, where do I begin? This story starts in a tangle of nets Vin’s memories are of being trapped and distressed Squeezing himself, so desperate, so tight His little heart beating wildly with fright With heroic strength and the will to survive He forced himself through that net to
Bank Holiday sunshine made the brackish water shimmer and sparkle, as we slid upriver from Carrick on Shannon, on board our beloved boat, a Senior 31. Like the ugly child only its parents could love, we cherished the Iruna, clunks and all. And there was plenty to find fault with, not least her persistently leaky
A man once told me he saw a space craft hovering over Marlfield Lake outside Clonmel. This is a true story as told to me and I believe he believes it. I wasn’t there. It was a nice fresh morning in the late 1990’s, the sort day where you know will it be warm when
The only thing I remember about my school days was the day I went mitching with my brother Vincent. Somewhere between our house and Boyhan’s Forge we decided we would go mitching for the day. Heavens only knows what put the thought in our heads: perhaps I didn’t have my homework done and knew I
Many years ago a man named James Quinn (Jimmy your great grandfather) was rearing his family in the countryside and had the mains water supply flowing past his house, the only problem was the water was not filtered and had to be boiled for ten minutes before you could drink it. Jimmy together with his
When I was a young lad on the pier I knew what was my calling To get a berth onboard a boat And earn my living trawling Fishing was good, money too My goal now, was to have my own crew When weather was rough, Big Jack & Charlie Would school us when at home
The Person: My dad, John Sheridan aged 15 The Place: Dublin Coast It was the summer of 1946; the beginning of July and it was hot. I can only remember hot summer days in my childhood, I don’t believe it ever rained when we were on the school holidays. Now, this was a very important
My earliest memories of going fishing date back to the very early 1960’s. I grew up in Killester, a suburb of Dublin. The venue of my first expeditions, (three small ponds located in the grounds of Clontarf Golf Club), required me surreptitiously climbing over the wall near my home late in the evenings, when Golfers
Sometimes the light plays tricks with your eyes and not only that, but coupled with the movement of water, often what you think you see simply isn’t there. Alone in the stillness and expanse of blue with nothing to disturb the tranquillity except the constant lapping of water against the boat sides or a distant
What a horrible day at work, I think to myself, as I drive home rather slowly. Two new born babies we tested for Covid 19 await results. We helped two very frightened mothers put on personal protective equipment to see their beautiful babes in incubators. It’s just so unnatural. Restricted visiting meant no partners to