This blog is a personal take on Listowel, Co. Kerry. I am writing for anyone anywhere with a Listowel connection but especially for sons and daughters of Listowel who find themselves far from home. Contact me at listowelconnection@gmail.com

Tag: Aoife McKenna Page 1 of 4

I’m Back

This is Aoife McKenna, aged 3 and 3/4. She is wearing her Kildare jersey because the photo was taken on Sunday, April 27 2025. Her team unfortunately lost to Meath and are now back in the Tailteann Cup. When they win that and move up again, Aoife will be old enough to support them.

Aoife is the reason I was galavanting for the last while. My Cork visitors are also the reason I have been absent from here for the past 2 weeks. I’m back now to tell you about my travels.

Another One Gone

Bailey and Co is closing soon after a successful run at the fashion trade in Listowel and North Kerry. Best of luck to Norella and Danny. Hopefully we’ll see another nice shop here very soon.

A Listowel Connection Lost

Warren Buckley sent us this photo and the story

In 1895 Carson’s arguments saw the removal of Oscar Wilde from the public eye in London. In 2025 Carson’s plaque saw the removal of another writer, George Fitzmaurice, from the public eye in Dublin. 

No 3 Harcourt Street, where Listowel writer George Fitzmaurice once lived, previously housed a restaurant and bar. “The Pie Dish” and “The Magic Glasses” were named after Fitzmaurice’s plays . Now a cocktail bar called the “Pen and Player” the owners appear to favour Carson over Fitzmaurice and have removed Fitmaurice’s plaque. A little piece of Listowel history lost.

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George Fitzmaurice is an almost forgotten figure in the realms of Irish literature. Kerry Writers’ Museum has a room dedicated to him. One of his plays, The Country Dressmaker, was recently staged in St. John’s. Outside of Listowel he is not widely recognised, so here is a small biography from KWM website.

Fitzmaurice was known for his sharp wit, unique dialogue, and rich characters that captured the essence of rural Ireland in the early 20th century.

Born in 1877, just outside Listowel, Fitzmaurice developed an early fascination with the Irish language and literature. His plays and novels were celebrated for their authentic portrayal of the Irish people and their struggles, often with a touch of humor and satire.

Fitzmaurice’s most famous play, “The Country Dressmaker,” premiered in 1907 at the Abbey Theatre in Dublin, where it received critical acclaim and launched Fitzmaurice’s career. He went on to produce many more successful works, including “The Magic Glasses,” and “The Moonlighter”.

Despite his success, Fitzmaurice remained humble and dedicated to his craft, writing until his death in 1963. He leaves behind a legacy as one of Ireland’s greatest writers, capturing the essence of rural Irish life and the struggles of its people.

You may view a lecture on Fitzmaurice by Dr. Fiona Brennan on the KWM YouTube channel

Listowel Literary Festival

In the time slot in the calendar of Irish festivals which was, up to 2024, occupied by Listowel Writers’ Week, we now will have a newly named festival, Listowel Literary Festival.

Photo and text from Radio Kerry website

In Dominick Walsh’s photograph at the launch are

“12 year old Listowel writer & illustrator Danny Lawlor , Maire Logue Artistic Director of SJT and Curator of Listowel Literary Festival , Katie O’Brien Executive Director of Listowel Writers’ Week and Cara Trant, Artistic Director of KWM and Producer of Listowel Literary Festival . “

“A Unified Celebration of Creativity and Strength in Unity in Ireland’s Literary Capital of Listowel. In 2025, Listowel proudly reaffirms its place at the heart of Ireland’s literary landscape with the launch of Listowel Literature Festival, a landmark collaboration between Listowel Writers’ Week, Kerry Writers’ Museum, and St. John’s Theatre and Arts Centre. This collective festival offering will take place from May 28th to June 1st, welcoming audiences to a dynamic celebration of storytelling, creativity, and community. Rooted in Listowel’s exceptional literary heritage, this year’s programme embraces an inclusive, vibrant, and boldly imaginative vision. The initiative draws inspiration from the words of Brendan Kennelly: “Begin again to the summoning birds.” That call to renewal echoes throughout the 2025 programme. “

( P.S. I think Literature in the above text is a typo. It is Listowel Literary Festival)

The full programme is on the Writers’ Week website at the below link

Listowel Writers’ Week

A Fact

In 1993, Intel launched its Pentium Processor. Intel was then at the cutting edge of digital technology

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On Nana Duty

John R.s, part of Listowel Christmases for 3 generations.

Kildare Village

There are two places where I spend a bit of time when visiting my grandchildren. Both places are called a village and neither is a village. The places are Kildare Village and Ballincollig.

Kildare Village was looking festive when I visited.

Weather again this year was against us.

We went in The Head Plan shop because Mammy wanted to buy her journal for 2025. The lovely shop assistant spotted a bored child and invited Aoife to be her assistant in the personalisation section.

Aoife “assisted” by standing and looking bewildered. It seems that was enough for she was rewarded with stickers and praise.

Personalisation done, and Aoife was allowed to share the credit.

We tried the new place, new since my last visit anyway, for our elevenses.

Look at this and tell me is this is what a three year old finds inviting in a café.

The excellent service, passionate baristas, pretty pictures and good conversation failed to impress Aoife who found nothing to her liking except the posh overpriced crisps, which made her thirsty and they had no drink suitable for her either.

Come to think of it, it’s a bit rich to claim good conversation as one of the selling points of your coffee shop since the customer has to provide this himself.

Christmases of Yore in West Kerry

Image and text from Facebook

This is St. Vincent’s Church in Boulteen, Ballyferriter in Kerry on a Christmas Night 

MEMORIES OF CHRISTMAS IN GORTA DUBHA

by Maurice Brick

                            There was a touch of frost, enough to stiffen the grass but it limbered with the noonday sun. The grown ups were in good humor and we were very sensitive to that. The farm work was done and only the cows needed tending. There was an easiness. 

A great day was when Mam and Dad went to Dingle to bring home the Christmas. Dad had rails on the cart. We were bursting with excitement upon hearing the cart coming with its iron band wheels which could be heard for miles. They had a sack of flour, a sack of yellow meal, various foods, wellingtons, some clothes, decorations and most important, sweets and biscuits and icing clad Christmas Cakes. They also had several bottles of Sandiman Port which were presents from Dingle merchants in appreciation of their custom through the year. 

Searching for discarded jam jars which we would wash and fill with sand to hold the candle we put in each window of the house. Holding the ladder for Dad as he retrieved some ivy from the gable end of the house. Going to the Reen, a field on our land that was reputedly a Fairy Fortress and had some scattered Holly Bushes. The house would be spotless and there was a silent buzz as we went about our chores. The turf fire was blazing and added to the glow. 

On Christmas Eve for dinner we had Langa (Ling), a long stringy fish that had hung for weeks from the ceiling. It was salty and boney but Mam’s white sauce with onions, pandy (potatoes mashed with generous helping of butter) and spices made it palatable. After, there was lashings of Christmas Cake with inch thick icing and we made short work of that. 

Going to Midnight Mass to St. Vincent’s in Boulteen was a treat. We went up the Tóchar a Bohereen and pathway through the fields. Dad had a lantern and led the way. At one point we climbed a few steps to climb over a claí (an earthen stone fence that separated fields) and on top you could see all the houses in the Parish with candles in the windows and it was like a glimpse of Tír Na nÓg (Land Of Youth) if such a place ever existed. 

The Church was small and comfortable. It was full and the smell of molten wax permeated the air. And there was a quietness. My Dad sang in the Choir and his cousin Paddy Brick, Riasc played the violin. It was magical listening to them, performing for us a hauntingly soft rendition of Oíche Chiuin (Silent Night) in honor of the Birth of the Baby Jesus. I remember now, I will never forget, Dad singing his heart out & Paddy Brick his cousin on the violin, watching one another with sideway glances making sure each of them was putting out the best. 

After Mass all the people greeted one another and offered Christmas Blessings. All was done in hushed and calming voices and that has stayed with me down through the years. My friend Pad accompanied us once going home by the Tóchar and he was given to speeching all the way. When we passed by the Cemetery he proceeded to name everyone who died in Gorta Dubha for the past fifty years. I shifted closer to Mam and Dad for the rest of the journey. 

At home, we put up our stockings for Santí and reluctantly went to bed. Dad went to the haggard and pulled a gabháll (bunch) of hay which he spread at the front door to feed the Donkey that was bringing the Holy Family for a visit to our house on Christmas Night. 

After a fitful night’s sleep we arose with excitement and checked our Santí stockings. We compared what we got and though at times it wasn’t much we were happy. Off we went running to every house in the the village. We’d get a piece of sweet cake or a bun and sometimes, even a sip of lemonade. We joined the other children and traipsed about joyfully in and out of the houses. It was Gorta Dubha and all the houses were ours. NOLLAIG SHONA……..HAPPY CHRISTMAS.

Continuing my supportive tour of Grandchildren

Róisín in pale green, fourth from right.

Billy Elliot was this year’s Coláiste and Gaelcholáiste Choilm TY musical. It was an excellent show, produced to professional standards.

German Christmas Treats

I am a member of a bookclub in Ballincollig library. Our newest member is Rebecca, who is on a gap year from Germany.

She made us eiserhornchen, which her grandmother taught her to bake, for our last meeting.

They were delicious.

In case you were wondering, the book was The Stationery Shop of Tehran by Marjan Kamali. It got a lukewarm reception from our club.

Our next book is Politics on the Edge by Rory Stewart, which promises a look inside British politics by a disillusioned Tory. Wouldn’t be my first choice for Christmas reading.

More New Businesses Opening in my Absence

I turn my back for one minute and the town is changed utterly.

Least said, soonest mended in regard to my opinion of this one

New tattoo shop opening soon on William Street.

A Fact

In 1951 10,000 turkeys were flown by Aer Lingus from Ireland to England.

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Remembering Listowel

Finesse Shane MacGowan tribute window. The Friday evening Revival concert of 2024 featured a tribute to Shane.

Remembering and Connecting

This is Margot McElligott, formerly of Bridge Road and now living in Paris.

Here is the story;

Listowel to Paris 

Recently, I reached out to Mary Cogan, hoping she could help me reconnect with a long-lost friend from my teenage years, Marie O’Halloran (O’Connor). In our exchange, Mary suggested that I contribute to the Listowel Connection blog, sharing a bit about my life today and some cherished memories from the past.

My name is Margot McElligott, daughter of Richard and Nóra, from the Bridge Road. I left Listowel in 1981, embarking on a new chapter in Paris shortly after completing my Leaving Cert. That move was inspired by a school trip to France during my first year of secondary school—a trip that left such an impression on me that I vowed to make France my home. My career has since taken me on a journey through various industries, from the Aerospace press to Communications in Aerospace research, followed by various leadership roles in the Pharmaceutical sector. I am mother of three adult children—a daughter and two sons.

As a small child, my world revolved around Bridge Road and Woodford, where my beloved aunt and cousins lived. Before I even began school, I spent many summer days with my cousin Neil Brosnan, who was nothing short of a hero in my young eyes. Neil devoted countless hours to teaching me about nature, turning every moment into an adventure. He fueled my imagination and created memories that I continue to treasure to this day.

L to R: Margot McElligott and Ann Dowling (a school photo from Junior Infants class…then known as Babies)

My closest friends were my immediate neighbours, and together we created a tapestry of simple yet unforgettable memories. Around the age of six or seven, I began learning to play tennis under the patient guidance of Roly Chute on the courts situated in what was then known as the Cows’ Lawn. Those tennis courts became the epicenter of our world, especially during the long summer holidays. We spent countless days and evenings there, playing tennis with other children from the town until one of our mothers would call us home through the twilight. When we weren’t on the courts, we would picnic or stroll along the riverbank, or even stage our own “Eurovision Song Contest” on the steps behind the typing pool on Bridge Road—though our singing careers never quite took off!

Like many girls in Listowel, my school years were spent at the Presentation Convent, where I was welcomed by the kind and smiling Sister Consolata. I have fond memories of my time there (mostly), and used to love running errands for the nuns !  School also meant broadening my circle of friends, meeting for the first time the girls from the town and surrounding villages. 

Another cornerstone of my childhood was partaking in “The Tops of the Town,” directed by Danny Hannon, which brought together the Bridge Road and the Square. I have a faint memory of a production involving Danny dressed as a scientist or professor in a white coat, some sort of infernal machine, and a creative rendition of “Old McDonald” at the end (sung by me). If anyone remembers that performance, I’d love to know more about it!

Sundays often meant a trip to Ballybunion, a highlight of my week. After dutifully visiting my two aunts who lived there, we would spend time on the beach, enjoy a 99 cone, and top it off with a spin on the bumper cars. Other vivid memories include the Listowel Races, which filled me with childlike excitement. I still recall the thrill of seeing the massive trucks rumbling up Bridge Road, bringing all the amusements to be set up in the marketplace. I would count down the days until the festivities began. The Fleadh Cheoil was another event that captured my imagination, with tents dotting the Cows’ Lawn and the sound of foreign languages filling the air—perhaps my first exposure to French!

Kieran Moloney’s photograph of Margot at work

As a teenager, I worked at week-ends and during festivals at Moloney’s Bar in the Square. By then, I had become fairly fluent in French (at least by secondary school standards), and word quickly spread among the festival-goers that a French-speaking barmaid was working at Moloney’s. This drew a large group of French regulars to the bar for the duration of the festival.

An important part of my secondary school experience was being on the debating team under the guidance of Tony Behan (English teacher). It wasn’t until years later that I fully appreciated the incredible opportunity this was and the profound impact it had on my career—particularly in public speaking and constructing well-articulated arguments. Looking back, I’m struck by how a small town like Listowel in the 1970s provided such a wealth of opportunities for growth in sports, culture, and education. These experiences played a pivotal role in shaping the professional I would become.

Sadly, my mother passed away in 1986 and my father in 1997, and with their passing, my ties to local life and people faded. Yet, my memories remain vivid and deeply cherished. Though I have lived in France for 43 years, I have always proudly retained my Irish nationality, forever proud of my roots and my connection to Listowel.

Playing Board Games

A feature of holidays in Nana’s has always been board games. Aoife, at three, is just learning to take turns. She is enjoying the joy of winning but she is also learning that when there are winners there are also losers.

Aoife in Nana’s garden in August 2024

Playing Animal Lotto

Dirty Washing is a simple children’s game loved by my grandchildren when they were very young.. When you draw a card with a “dirty” garment you get to shout “Dirty washing” and you get to put it through the slot into the washing machine. Great fun, if you are three!

Advice for Parents in a Poem

“Do not ask your children

to strive for extraordinary lives.

Such striving may seem admirable,

but it is the way of foolishness.

Help them instead to find the wonder

and the marvel of an ordinary life.

Show them the joy of tasting

tomatoes, apples and pears.

Show them how to cry

when pets and people die.

Show them the infinite pleasure

in the touch of a hand.

And make the ordinary come alive for them.”

The extraordinary will take care of itself.

~William Martin

A Fact

Starfish do not have brains. Special cells on their skins gather information about their surroundings.

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A Wet Summer

In the wildflower meadow in Childers’ Park in August 2024

In the Playground

Aoife brought a towel to the playground on Saturday, August 24 2024.In summer 2024 a girl has to be prepared for wet conditions.

Maybe it’s a combination of Kildare and Listowel influences but she loves a ride on anything resembling a horse.

She dried the slide before having a go.

She did her best with the swing but, by now, the towel was saturated.

She loved this musical instrument. Wet or dry this functioned.

Best Dressed Lady

Maria Stack of Listowel took the title of Best Dressed at Limerick show at the weekend. Maria made her own hat.

In the Paper

In Saturday’s Irish Examiner there is a section for readers’ photographs. In that section on last Saturday was a reader’s photograph of our own Matt Mooney whistling away, oblivious of the camera, at the recent fleadh in Wexford.

Drunk

The Demon Drink

I was having a drink many moons ago in the IFI social club in Lamberton, Arklow and a man came in enquiring if his friend was on the premises. The barman told him that he was gone, and our man asked if was long gone. The barman’s response is still stored in my memory bank. Well, he said Johnny was nearly gone when he came in, but he went home before he was fully gone. That was his way of saying that Johnny was fairly drunk or ar meisce when he arrived but left before he was fully polluted.

Isn’t it absolutely amazing how many ways you can say that a person was drunk like maith go leor or he was stocious or legless or footless, langers, out of his/her skull, fluthered or just locked. In answer to questions about what state people were in after a few bevvies people could say s/he was three sheets in the wind, twisted, staggering, in the staggers, all over the place or legless.

These were moderate terms for peoples whose alcohol infused brains had upset their equilibrium a bit but then you can go up the scale and describe people as twisted, jarred, pissed, half cut, polluted, scuttered, ossified

Then you can go into the upper stratosphere of drink and drunk terminology when you say a person was paralytic, shit faced, rat arsed, bollixed.

I think I heard a lot of terms as I grew from boy to man. There was a certain bravado in saying you were drunk, buckled, locked, plastered, or whatever other endearing term was used for being maith go leor and that you didn’t remember anything from the night before. Little did we know what damage we were doing to our brains and general body health. There wasn’t the same awareness of health and the damaging relationship with alcohol. It was the rite of passage to go out for a night and get polluted.

Nowadays there is a much greater awareness of fitness and health and healthy living which are improving the quality of lives and living standards. Younger people are more attracted to gyms, sports arenas and the café culture preferring the skinny latte to the pint of beer.

The pub culture is no longer as popular as it was. I was listening to the radio today and they were speaking about the staggering fact that nearly 2000 pubs had closed in the past 20 years. They also referred to the statistic that alcohol consumption was at its lowest level in Ireland for 35 years and that we have turned into a wine consuming nation. There is also a far greater acceptance of zero alcohol drinks and drink driving is frowned upon. Worryingly there is an increase in the use of social drugs.

We are known all over the world for our love of the jar, and our pub culture but it sure seems to be changing. The takeaway is cheaper than the pub. Everything is getting more expensive from groceries, cars, fuel and housing. All these are putting pressure on people’s wallets and an increasing number of people are putting the demon drink well down the priorities on the shopping list. We will be a better off, healthier people because of this change in culture and lifestyle. Let’s hope it continues.

Mick O Callaghan

A Fact

Between 1880 and 1916, the legal time in Dublin was set at Dunsink Observatory and called Dublin Mean Time. This time was 25 minutes 21 seconds behind Greenwich Mean Time (GMT).

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A Friday Miscellany

Courthouse Road

The Horseshoe

Looks like this eatery is about to have something added to its facade.

Paddy Glavin Remembers The Feale

Moments of Reflection

Listowel printing Works at Tannavalla

Paul Shannon printing up another iteration of my book…exciting times.

Moments with Aoife

Aoife and her Nana on Charles Street

Happy days with a bubble wand

Little Known Kerry Writers from The Newspaper Archives

New York NY Irish American Advocate 1916-1918

Mr. James J. O’Neill, Librarian of National University of Ireland, in a series of monthly lectures at the Carnegie Library, Listowel, Co. Kerry, read an interested paper on some distinguished Kerrymen.”

Mr. O’Neill after a rapid survey of Ireland’s ancient scholars, and their merits said that Kerry had Just cause to be proud of its place in its countries roll of fame —————–

Kerryman prominent among the writers of that literature. Hugh Kelly, the Kerry dramatist was born in Killarney in 1739. At an early age he removed to Dublin closed his career, and he died in 1777 at the early age of 38.

——– Richard Cantillon, the political economist, sprang from a Kerry family He was born at Ballyheigue about the beginning of the 17th century .

Among the writers in English we have the names of Bartholomew Dowling, Mrs. Mary Downing and Maurice O’Connell.

Mrs. Mary Downing was the daughter of Daniel MacCarthy of Kilfadimore, near Kenmare. She contributed many pieces of prose and poetry to the columns of the Cork Southern Reporter under the pseudonym of Christabel.

The O’Donoghue of the Glens, a leading figure in Irish politics from 1858 to 1868, was another distinguished Kerryman.

Lest we forget, Thomas Moore’s father was a Kerryman. Dr. Douglas Hyde, the great father of the Gaelic League, also has ‘Kerry blood in his  veins. To Irishmen the name of O’Connell is synonymous with their redemption.

Harman Blennerhasset the talented, but unfortunate son of Conway Blennerhasset of Castle Conway, Killorglin. He sailed toAmerica in 1726, and settled down to the life of a country gentleman, with his bride, the beautiful and accomplished Miss Margaret Agnew. After a few years he had the misfortune to meet the notorious Aaron Burr.

Mr. James Franklin Fuller, of Gasnacree, is another artist of whom Kerry may feel proud.

A Fact

In 1830 Sarah Josepha Hale wrote the well known nursery rhyme, Mary had a Little Lamb. She based it on an experience of her own when she was teaching in Newport, New Hampshire in the U.S. A pet lamb followed one of Hale’s students to school and refused to leave. The lamb waited until it was reunited with “Mary” at close of classes.

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