I was born in 1957 and grew up on the Commons Road in Clondalkin village. The Camac River – also known locally as the Drinker, or the Sandy-hole, depending on which era you were born into. In my childhood we nicknamed it – the Drinker. The River was synonymous with all aspects of our childhood.
As a child, I was always drawn to the river. I wasn’t a lonely child but I was the first cousin of one. My parents worked hard on the farm and my brother who was 5 years older spent a lot of his time helping them. I was too small to help for many jobs,
I have heard snippets of these stories before but it is at times like these that one really begins to take note. The conversation opens around my memory of a black and white photograph that is now only recently in my father’s possession. The photograph taken in 1969 depicts a man fishing by the River
We were crabbing at Murrisk. Two adults, three children and one Foxford blanket. The sun was shining, the sky was cloudless, and The Reek was standing over us like an ancient grandfather in a pointed hat. This was part of our annual pilgrimage with my best friend Kay, her boy Edward and my two nephews.
Heading down to the River Dodder as a child during the summer was one of my favourite things to do. I would use a fishing net that was attached to a thin bamboo pole. You could buy them in the local newsagents for around a £1 and that would be it, you were set up
My name is Baggi, one cool black cat. Living in a small estate called Riverview. It`s right across the road from a river called the Dodder. One day a few years ago I fell from a car and hurt myself badly and to this day I walk with a wiggle. Lots of people laugh at
There were wild ducks on the river then, presided over by a magnificent drake. The Black Dinin River snakes down through our village tumbling over the rock face into deep pools locally known as the Sheep hole, the Horse hole and Harry’s pocket. Harry’s pocket was our favourite haunt. Two large rock boulders divided the
Once a long time ago, there was a river that flowed down the mountain. This river was special. It was special because it filled the air with an orange scent. But that wasn’t the only reason it was special. All the animals that lived in the river were magical. There was a town a few
Once there was a little elf living in the estuary. He was afraid to come out of the hole he lived in because he was scared the swans would make fun of his pointy ears. The only time he left his hole was at night to find food. Late one night when the elf was
I have had many great memories and stories from the river as I live in the beautiful town of Graignamanagh, where the river barrow flows through. I have been swimming and kayaking in the river from a very young age, thanks to my dad. My dad, sister and I started kayaking a good few years
In the ‘50’s and early’60’s, our family spent Summer holidays in Tramore. We stayed in a caravan site, which had all amenities. The caravan was in a sheltered area. High winds came in off the sea frequently. They were liable to blow a caravan over, if not located properly. There were a lot of day-trippers
It was the evening before the big adventure, and I needed to pack! Maybe a life jacket, some food for a picnic, a jumper in case I got cold on the water, a mobile phone in case we needed help, an underwater camera too. The next day was going to be a big one. I