Joseph P. Fenwick, in his essay which is contained in the book “Roscommon History and Society”, describes Rathcroghan as “A once thriving royal site and pre-Christian cult centre as evidenced by well preserved monuments” and goes on to say that it “served as a nexus of political power and religious potency.” It was thought to be the place where the “world king would come to intercede with the gods of the otherworld on behalf of his people.”Continue reading “One Day in Castlerea”
Category: One Day In …
One Day in Dublin
“Do you realise the implications of a cashless society?” asks a young man that looks to be in his late twenties on O’Connell Street.
“Yes, I’ve thought about it a little bit,” I reply.
“The whole world is changing, man,” he says, “we’re all gonna become slaves which is why for the past while I’ve been living in a tent as I’ve decided to go off the grid”.
“Sounds good,” I say, genuinely fascinated.Continue reading “One Day in Dublin”
One Day In Aughrim, Galway
“He had this green growth on his langer and so he went to the doctor. The doctor asked him if he’d been out somewhere foreign and he said he’d been to Mongolia and so the doctor said, ‘ah, you have the Green Mongolian Veneral Disease then, you might have to have it amputated’. So, he goes to a Chinese specialist and asks him, ‘Will I have to have it amputated?’ and the Chinese lad says, ‘no,’ to which he breathes a sigh of relief. And then the Chinese doctor continues, ’It will fall off all by itself.’” Continue reading “One Day In Aughrim, Galway”
One Day In Bray
Sitting down on the train to go to Bray (all pics here) I get a bad smell, really bad, and it’s wafting off of my jeans. It’s a smell that reminds me of a teacher I had in school years ago. The man smelled so bad I used to sit right at the back of the class and his stink would still offend my nostrils. Continue reading “One Day In Bray”
One Day In Clifden
Arriving in Clifden with a sleepy head at 11.30, the first thing I go in search of is a cup of coffee. Entering a bakery in Market Street to acquire same I am served by a pleasant young black woman and when she speaks she has as Galway an accent as anybody could ever hear. I don’t know why this surprises me, but it does, and is a sort of wow moment which makes me smile a bit.
“Where’s the loo?” I ask.
“You mean the toilet?” she replies, to which I nod. These days I feel I am increasingly speaking a different language to the youth of today.
One Day In Belfast
“YOU ENGLISH BASTARD!” was something I was called regularly as a child by the children in the neighbourhood in Galway. Strangely though, it didn’t actually bother me all that much. In truth, I’ve been called worse things in my life. The most recent thing I get called is “The Mad Cow” which is kind of funny and I guess I left myself open for that one. (Photos on Facebook here: #1, #2) Continue reading “One Day In Belfast”
One Day In Ennis
“He didn’t get the ride,” I hear a gray haired man opposite me say as I sit down in a tea shop on my arrival in a rainy Ennis. For a split second I wonder what kind of kinky den of iniquity I’m after arriving in. (Photos on Facebook here: #1, #2) Continue reading “One Day In Ennis”
One Day In Ballina
As the bus pulls up in Ballina, Co Mayo, the first thing I see is an abandoned looking building that has an old style bike and till in the window and so when off the bus I back track and then spot a sign for The Four Maols Dolmen which is just a little way up the road. (Photos on Facebook: #1, #2) Continue reading “One Day In Ballina”
One Day In Cork
Arriving in Cork with what appears to me to be a clear cut case of the Black Death, I expect I’ll spread it to all of the Cork natives, wiping at least half of them off the face of the planet. (All photos on Facebook here: #1, #2) Continue reading “One Day In Cork”
One Day In Tipperary
At 10am, I get off the bus in Tipperary town; it is cold. (All photos are on the Facebook page, Galway COW) In spite of putting on an extra layer this morning I can feel the icy morning air penetrating through to my core and I straightaway regret not packing gloves. Continue reading “One Day In Tipperary”