My friends, Maureen and Jim Connolly spotted walking in step in Market St. on Weds. Jan 8 2020.
Seems like Christmas is barely over and already shops are advertising St. Patrick’s Day garb. When did all this change and every occasion is now a fancy dress occasion?
Is That a Fact
From my new book of jaw dropping facts comes these nuggets for you to chew over.
Wrigley’s originally made soap.
Chewing gum costs 3p a sick to buy and 10p a blob to clean up off the pavement.
(The book is English, but the story is the same here)
Listowel Writers Week at 50
You will be seeing the new Writers’ Week logo all over town in the lead up to the 50th festival.
I’m on a crusade to gather memories of past festivals. I’m hoping to get some memories and photographs from some of the many people who have fallen in love with Listowel and particularly with Listowel Writers’ Week. Please do a bit of a rummage in those old photo albums or rack your brain for old memories of festivals past.
Here is a lovely poem from a regular attendee, Michelle McCormack
We stormed Heaven today in Listowel
You and I,
Well I stormed and you listened
Way above in Gods Kingdom on a high.
We talked silently,
Amid the windows of stained glass
In St Marys with the reds, blues & yellows
Dancing in the sunlit aisle
After Writers’ Week mass.
I talked to you of a week of writing celebrations,
You would listen for a while, to my literary delights
Then you’d say “oh light a few more candles there,”
You know for the relations…
I thought of how you taught about me all the writings of John B,
The stories of Brian McMahon, the works of Maurice Walsh
And the poems of Brendan Kennelly.
As I stood there with my candle in my hand
I though of how you loved to talk about their prose and poems
When you were out working on the land.
Then I told you all about the great literary debates,
The many a Listowel Arms discussion,
The artistic late nights and of where I was going next,
To the John B Healing session.
I could see you raise your eyes in Heaven
You’d say well, “for all those late nights
You should be going to confession…”
I thought of how you would have loved the River Feale.
As the June summer sun shone on its foaming water.
This magical place awakening my love of writing,
Bestowed from a father to a daughter.
You know, maybe up there in Heaven you could your hero’s meet,
Well thank them for all the inspiration,
For memories, both old and new
As I hear a pianist on a Market Square seat.
I thought of how you never passed a church,
There were too many candles to be lit.
well thanks to God for a week of Literary treasures
So, I smile to you here in spirit as I sit.
Yes, we stormed Heaven today,
You and I, and as Listowel Writers’ Week ended
I only hope that my little candle,
Lit up your Heavenly sky.