Urlar
“I’ll be leavin’ in the mornin’, soon as the dark clouds lift…”
Still in Ballyhaunis after the long weekend. Must say I’m always a bit surprised at how many people here seem to read this blog. The ones I spoke to over the weekend were unanimous on one point. “Fuck’s sake Butler,” an old school friend chided. “If I read that bloody International Bar story one more time, I’m going to slit my wrists.” Read the rest of this entry »
Well, I’ll be a son of a gun!
Spotted John Rocha on Exchequer Street, Saturday morning. He was wearing clogs and holding an enormous cigarette holder. Someone told me RTE are doing a countdown of the all-time greatest Irishmen. Well, I’m gutted J.R. didn’t make the cut. Because we are nation of chancers and bullshit artists. And this guy is beating us at our own game. Read the rest of this entry »
ON FATHER’S DAY
Every time the seasons change I think about my father. In early spring I see him jotting down the names and dates-of-birth of his latest crop of Under-10s, gleefully identifying future corner-backs and budding centre-fielders. When the sun comes out in May, I envision us striking out for the beach at Enniscrone. (You always know when it’s summer there, he’d say, because the old ladies wear their overcoats unbuttoned.) In August, he’s picking blackberries to make jam. And when the frosts return in late November, he’s making breadcrumbs for the birds that come to forage in our garden. Read the rest of this entry »