Arriving in Athlone at 7.30AM, after a sleepless night, I’m greeted by a gloomy, wet darkness and a light mist. (All photos are on Galway COW Facebook page here) The whole town is silent bar the sound of my Converse high tops slapping off the pavement. These are my super hero shoes, I always wear them when I am intent on getting stuff done, which is probably why they are so clean and new looking in spite of having had them for about two years. Continue reading “One Day In Athlone”
Ye haw! After a 7am in the mornin’ hike up the misty holy mountain known as Croagh Patrick, I set me down and wait for the participants to arrive. (All photos here over the next few days).
I got ma brand spanky new sign with me so now every dog gone person will know where to find ma photos (or at least they would if the thing didn’t keep blowin’ all o’er the place) cos it’s a gosh darned cryin’ shame when folks don’t get to see tharselves in action. Continue reading “The COW-boy ‘tographer Shoots Gaelforce West 2017”
Winners stand alone. Always alone. At every event I photograph I notice that the one who wins is a solitary figure, a figure who rarely betrays any emotion or expression other than pure focus. It is almost as if a smile, a wink, a wave or any slight distraction would be a waste of precious energy; it is as if the economy of their body’s energy has been carefully rationed to such a degree that even a wave could cost them victory. John Meade, the first man to enter my camera’s frame in Dingle is no exception; nor indeed are those in hot pursuit of this man, this inexorable running machine, this man in pursuit of victory and all the glory it affords. Continue reading “Going the Extra Miles @ the Dingle Marathon 2016”
“Any bit a matchmaking going on inside?” I ask the bouncer outside The Matchmaker (bar) and he denies, says that Willie’s not about but that he’s probably up in the Hydro (hotel).
Continue reading “Seeking the Love Guru of Lisdoonvarna”
Skint, but wanting to do something nice with my 6 year old, I am excited when I see the Facebook photos of a friend who has recently visited the Eagles Flying in Ballymote, Sligo with her kids.
Fifty euro is my budget and that includes the price of the petrol to get there from Galway city.
Entry times are at 10.30am and 2.30pm and we arrive at 2.15pm. Continue reading “Family Day Out from Galway to Eagles Flying in Sligo”
I have no interest in flowers, whatsoever. But I’m open-minded and think that going to Bloom 2016, in Phoenix Park, could be a delightful experience that may well alter my perceptions and infuse me with a new found interest. Continue reading “The Taste of Bloom (Dublin Through a Lens Part 1 of 2)”
“I forgot the tickets,” he cried in a voice thick with a desperation akin to someone helplessly watching their beloved about to be ploughed into oblivion by a tractor.
“Are you f***ing kidding me?” I ask.
“No,” he says, “I’m serious.”
Seeing as how I can see that he’s very extremely upset with himself, and giving him a ton of abuse isn’t going to do any good, I laugh and satisfy myself with a simple, “I’m sorry, but you’re some f***ing pleb.”
Babies and little children look at everything and everyone very closely, shamelessly. Everybody accepts that because they are little kids and they don’t know any better. When you get a bit older you stop looking so closely at other people for fear of being branded a pervert or being thought of as rude. If you stare at someone you perceive as beautiful, the person may feel uncomfortable. If you stare at someone else, that you also perceive as beautiful, but who has a small birthmark, then you might just spark off torrents of insecurity in the person that lead to your being a victim of the person’s subsequent wrath at the perceived attack on their self-confidence. Continue reading “Life Through a Lens”
Traditionally, after descending Croagh Patrick, I always go for fish and chips in P. Dunning’s beside the Octagon. In there I meet the couple from Dunboyne that I mentioned in my previous post. I ask if they mind me joining them, and they don’t.
After a little conversation it transpires that the man, named Pat, is the first cousin of a woman who is married to the former Vice Principal of my secondary school in Galway. Times like this make one realise just how small Ireland is and that you don’t have to look to far to find someone who knows, or is related to, someone else you know. I guess it’s a small island. Continue reading “Westport Town: P.Dunning’s and Matt Molloy’s”
Golden sunshine, dappling through grey clouds, gives off a heavenly aspect which instantly infuses me with a sense of warm spirituality. The mountain is bathed in a clammy heat that makes me perspire as soon as I begin my ascent. I’m here today to capture the essence of Westport, Co Mayo, and I can’t think of any place better to start than with its holy mountain.
Climbing Croagh Patrick was the first thing I ever did the first time I came to Westport. I’ve done it many times, in many ways. I’ve climbed it with friends, alone, with my dog, in the middle of the night of a blue moon, and even barefoot. But today I’m climbing it with a lens so as to fully appreciate and write about it. Continue reading “Croagh Patrick Gold”