WOW
Chris Grayson photographed this magnificent peacock in Fota Wildlife Park
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More photos of St. John’s Ballybunion
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Progress at the Community Centre
The blocks are flying up.
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The Square, Listowel February 2017
MBC is a new business at this premises
The Tidy Towns’ sculpture is a nice addition to this corner of town.
Beautiful North Kerry
Photo: Mike Enright
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All the Fun of the Fair
The Horsefair is a big event in the life of Listowel and many people have written about it and photographed and painted the fairs. Here I bring you a few photos from fairs through the years and an account of the January Fair 2017 by Billy Keane.
The man selling the manic Indian
Runner ducks and the pointy- beaked, big red hens came all the way from Macroom
to the horse fair in Listowel. There were goats, too, and puppies, horses and
ponies, a llama called Larry and donkeys with sad eyes. Noah must have left the
gate open.
The street was
thronged and I had forgotten all about the day that was in it. The custom is to
hold four horse fairs in our town on the first Thursday of each quarter. No one
knows exactly how long the horse fair has been going on here in Market Street. Hundreds
of years, I would say. There’s a story going that Napoleon’s horse Marengo was
bred in a field down by the River Feale. He was sold at Listowel Horse Fair and
again at the great fair of Cahirmee to the French.
My mother and father opened up our
pub 63 years ago on the day of the January horse fair. It was their first
wedding anniversary. They had no money and the pub was very busy, which gave
them a great start.
Gerard O’ Leary’s family own a
poultry operation in Macroom and he travels all over Ireland with laying hens.
It seems to be a big thing now for townies to keep a hen or two for the eggs.
I was wrong about the ducks. They
are placid enough, Ger says. There wasn’t a quack out of them. It was just the
insane eyes that scared me, and one duck kept staring at me like she was a
witch in disguise. I woke up later that night after a terrible dream. There was
the Indian Runner sitting at the end of the bed, staring away. I jumped out of
the bed, but she was gone. As my old friend Frank Galvin used to say, she was a
hollocollution – Frank’s word for hallucination. It was then I got to thinking
the duck with the stare might have picked up a bad scent from me. I checked the
pillow and it was full of feathers.
The Indian Runner ducks are
teachers. Says Ger: “Ducks are like sheep in that they stay in tight
groups. The ducks are used to train young collies who aren’t able for the big
sheep.”
We meet a crude man with a few
drinks in him, who told us he’s gone from the wife. “She’s too old to
breed,” he says, “and too wicked to keep as a pet.”
“You can’t say that,” I
say.
“I can say whatever I
want,” says he.
There were just a few donkeys at
the horse fair. A few years back during the boom, a dealer told me he was
getting a grand a donkey but now the donkey sanctuaries are full again. I
always felt very sorry for the donkeys. There’s an old, faded holy picture
hanging up over the place I’m writing in right now. The little donkey has bony
legs as thin and knobbly as rosary beads. He’s carrying the Holy Family across
the desert and on to safety.
I think the happiest moment of my
life was when I was being returned to the mother and father after a lovely
adventurous month in the country with our cousins, the Looneys. Bill Looney let
me drive the donkey and car down Church Street. My friends saw me and I shook
the reins to get the donkey flying as we galloped on at full speed. I was the
proud boy.
Miley Cash is the main man at the
horse fair. His big white lorry was parked along the street. Several horses
were tied to the side of the lorry. He says: “I bought those ones at
Kilmichael, where the ambush took place and another at Doneraile. I’ll be
calling to Tipperary on the way home to Monasterevin to pick up another
one.”
Miley is a broad, blocky man. You
couldn’t put an age on him, but he told me he has been coming here to Listowel
for more than 60 years.
He is here to support the fair and
the way of life for the people who come here.
“Do you see that man over
there with the pony?”
An old man holds his pony on
display. The dappled brown and white pony looks like he could easily pass for
an Apache’s mount in a cowboy picture.
“Well”, continues Miley,
“he bought her for €1,100 and he kept her for year. Now he’ll sell her for
the same money. There’s no money in this for these people. He put new shoes on
her and had her clipped and tagged. The horse people never count the expenses
when they figure out the buying and selling. They love the idea of having a
horse. He sold him to me for €1,100 and there was a tenner luck.”
Several pony men parade their stock
nonchalantly by Miley, as if they were taking the ponies for a walk and the
walk happened to pass the dealer. Miley gives the parade no more than a glance.
That’s all he needs. The Cashes were reared to this game. He sells his purchases
on to Germany, Holland and France.
Just then, a small Traveller boy
walks past us with a Shetland. The kid can’t be any more than seven or eight.
And isn’t he the proud boy. The Travelling people are at their happiest on days
like this. Horses are in their blood.
This man approaches Miley and he’s
whispering. There’s a lot of whispering going on at horse fairs. I listen in.
“Don’t tell him you know me,” says the pony whisperer.
What was it all about? Your guess
is as good as mine, but somehow you feel that horse fair people wouldn’t be
happy unless there was a bit of bargaining to be done, with plenty of
subterfuge and walking away in a huff if the price isn’t right. No different to
trade unions and employers, if you think about it.
The-nephew-and-uncle team of Johhny
Cahill and Daniel Riordan are selling an unbroken Welsh pony and a Stewball,
which is another breed of blocky pony.
“How much will ye get?”
Uncle Johnny whispers: “About
300 for the Skewball. And 150 for the pony.”
The two have a lovely way with the
horses and each other. The Welsh pony rears up and Daniel leads off to walk the
friskiness off of her. Walks him past Miley, that is. “She’s a nice
cob,” says Johnny. Miley nods, but no more than that. The bargaining
pre-play sets up the process.
I couldn’t see any sign of
mistreatment or of neglect at the horse fair. There have been problems with
animal welfare at other fairs. But the majority are in love with the idea of
owning a horse, donkey or a pony. The tourists love the tangling, the vibrancy
and the colour of it all. This is a tradition worth keeping.
I went back then, after a long
walkabout among the pony people, to open up the pub for year 64.
Irish Independent
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Progress on the Extension to Listowel Community Centre
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Humans of Listowel
I met Mike Sheehy and Leo Daly out for a morning walk in the town park
The 1916 installation in January 2017
It looks great.
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Presentation Convent, then and now
My photographs of the convent made so many people feel sad that I thought I’d better post a last few nice photographs from the convent in its heyday, the way we all prefer to remember it.
So sad!
When I was writing some convent memories earlier in the week, I included this Facebook comment from Maria Sham
What a waste! Sr Dympna loved the gardens, with the help of a man named Mackassey. I remember walking around the gardens following the Priest with the Blessed Sacrament all of us in our white dresses. It was Corpus Christi. We had another name for it. Does anyone know what it was ?
Seems that lots of people know what it was, Maria. It was the Quadrant Ore Celebration of the Eucharist.
James Kenny did a bit of research on this practice. This is what he wrote;
“Maria
Sham referred to a procession at the Presentation Convent during Corpus Christi and was querying if it had a name. It was called the Quarantore, official name
is Quadrant’ Ore. I remember the processions….I was an altar boy at the time and had the great
“honour” of leading out the procession with the other boys and the priests.
The Quarantore wasForty Hours’ Devotion; a Roman Catholic exercise of devotion in which continuous prayer is made for forty hours before the Blessed Sacrament in solemn exposition. It commonly occurred in a succession of churches,
with one finishing prayers at the same time as the next takes it up
A celebration of such a devotion was begun by a Solemn Mass or “Mass of Exposition”, and ended by a “Mass of
Deposition”. Each of these masses includes a procession and the litany of
the saints being chanted.
Theword derives from early 17th century Italian: quaranta
meaning forty and ore meaning hours.
I don’t recollect if the procession in the convent
grounds was the beginning or the end of the forth hours adoration.
Although the precise origin of the Forty Hours’ Devotion is wrapped in a
good deal of obscurity, the custom of exposing the Blessed Sacrament in one church after another is recorded as having
started as a novelty in Milan, in May, 1537.”
Margaret Dillon remembers Listowel’s Quadrant Ore well. The Eucharist in a monstrance was held aloft by the priest. That year’s communicants (girls) in two lines came forward and strewed petals before the Eucharist. This was a carefully choreographed exercise. Sr. Dympna was in charge and she drilled the girls in what to do. At a certain point, the girls who were at the front went to the back and two new girls took over the petal duty at the front of the line.
Vincent Carmody remembers this Corpus Christi procession too. Vincent was an altar boy in the convent chapel and on Corpus Christi he got a day off school to participate in the the procession. The ceremony was part of Quadrant Ore or forty hours of prayer to mark the feast of the Body of Christ.
As Vincent remembers it the blessed sacrament was taken in the monstrance from the altar where it had stood during the Quarantore exposition and it was carried down the corridor of the convent followed by the nuns and the Children of Mary. It was carried out the front door and around the front lawn following the path, before being returned again to the chapel.
Seán Keane remembers it well. He wrote “No doubt you were there for the “Quarantori” as I think the Corpus Christi procession was called ( forty (Quarenta) days after Easter Sunday?)The girls scattered petals of flowers from baskets,onto the ground in front of the priests at the head of the procession around the convent grounds.
I was one of the young Altar boys who served the priest at all the ceremonies in the convent church.
Sr Aloyius was our taskmaster
The 7.30 am Mass was a bit of a bind but was compensated for by the freedom to roam which we took and the generosity in the kitchens which we availed of while we waited to serve at benediction after retreats for the Children of Mary etc.
I recall seeing a nice photo of the group of us Altar boys taken in front of the convent door
( exactly as in our picture) about 1960.
Others will have more.”
Maura McConnell remembers it as well. “The procession through the convent gardens on Corpus Christi was known as Quarant’Ore . The garden always looked immaculate then and woe betide you if you were caught walking on the grass 
Maura”
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A Poem for You
I Like to Walk with Nana
I like to walk with Nana,
Her steps are small like mine.
She never says “let’s hurry-up!
She always takes her time.
I like to walk with Nana,
Her eyes see things like mine.
Shiny stones, a fluffy cloud,
Stars at night that shine.
People rush their whole day through,
They rarely stop to see.
I’m glad that God made Nanas
unrushed and young like me!
Author: unknown
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From the Archives
Kerryman 4 January 1947
South Kerry Domestic Servant’s Fatal Injuries. About 6. 10 pm on
Christmas Eve, while seventeen years old Miss Mary Curran a domestic
servant, of Coomastow, Ahatubrid, was proceeding home from her
employer’s place at Waterville, she was involved in a collision with a
motor lorry at Kinneigh, seven miles from Caherciveen and received
injuries to which she succumbed in about 20 minutes.
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Progress on the Community Centre Extension, January 11 2017
Kerry Fuscia in bloom
(photo: Elizabeth Brosnan)
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Listowel Marching Band
These photos were supplied to me by Betty Stack. They are from a Ballyheigue magazine in the eighties.
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Pride of Place 2015
Here are some of the people who were in The Lartigue Museum on Tuesday Sept 1 2015 for the Pride of Place judging.
Prestige Foods supply hotels with these yummy desserts.
Prestige Foods
John Cronin of Cronin’s Cider was giving out samples. It is delicious, fresh and refreshing. John promises that it will not give you a hangover as it is additive free. I’ll certainly be buying it on the basis of my first sample.
Eabha Jones with their goodies .
Helen and Armel of Allos had a very appetizing looking array of food on display on their beautifully styled table, a feast for the eye as well as the belly.
If, as folk wisdom says, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I’d say Listowel certainly won the heart of the judges on Tuesday.
The minister was working so he declined to sample the cider. He stuck to tea.
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Scully’s Corner
In the Town Park
Listowel Community Centre
These containers were covered in artistic graffiti. Maybe they will be again.
The playground and the Dandy Lodge in the background
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In the Small Square
In town last week I ran into my friend, Cathy Healy and I persuaded her to pose for a photo with Eamonn Sullivan.
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Mystery Solved….nearly
Eileen O’Sullivan remembers them all for it was her class. The photo which was given to me by Anne Dillon brought back happy memories to Eileen.
Here are the names as Eileen remembers them:
Carmel Moloney, Marie Greaney, Christina O Driscoll, Majella Maher, Mary O Donnell, Maureen Aherne, Eileen Lane, Breda O Connor, Marie Buckley, June O Connor,
Mary Moran, Carmel Hennessey, Teresa Lyons, Muireann Moloney,
Marian O Rourke Rip. Geraldine Buckley
Liz Chute and Breda Ferris got some, but not all of these;
Back: McCarthy sisters, Mary Lyons, Bernie MacAulliffe, Marie Daly, Veronica Lawlor R.I.P.
Middle; Carmel Guiney?
Front: Geraldine Dowling, Anne O’Donnell, Anne O’Connor and Catherine O’Keeffe
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Pattern Day in Ballyheigue 2015
Photo: Tadhg Horan
Listowel in Bygone Days from Denis Carroll’s photos
At Convent Cross
The Dandy Lodge in its original location in Bridge Road
The foundation for the Community Centre being dug.
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A Successful young man with a (very tenuous) Listowel Connection
This young man is Will Collins of Kanturk. He is in the news because he wrote the script for the Oscar nominated film, The Song of the Sea.
Now the Listowel connection; Will is the son of my old Kanturk neighbours, Peggy and Willie Collins.
People my age and older will remember Bill and Pat Kearney of this parish. Bill was very involved with the Listowel Drama Group. After Bill’s death, Pat lived on in Listowel on her own. One evening she was driving home from Cork when she got a puncture. In the days before mobile phones, the done thing in this instance was to call to the nearest house. Pat did. This house was the home of Willie and Peggy Collins, my lovely neighbours. Being the kind people they are, they brought her in and gave her a cup of tea and some of Peggy’s legendary delicious baking. They changed her wheel and ascertained that it would have to stay in Kanturk overnight for repair. Peggy and Willie would not hear of Pat driving home alone with no spare wheel so they drove to Listowel with her. Pat never forgot their extraordinary kindness to her and she mentioned it often to me. There would be none more delighted than Pat Kearney to hear that the son of her Kanturk friends is now a famous scriptwriter and if she has any influence above, that Oscar is in the bag for The Cartoon Saloon gang.
This photograph of Will with his family was taken (not by me) at Kanturk Arts Festival two years ago. Peggy and Willie Senior are on the right.
I saw the film, in French, during my recent visit to Ciboure. It is a lovely film suitable for all the family. I laughed and cried and was charmed by the story. I won’t spoil it for you by telling you the story but, believe me, it’s a good one.
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A Proposal to bring joy to the hearts of many of our diaspora
A report recently in the Irish Times outlined a proposal that was presented to Jimmy Deenihan, Minister for the Diaspora. Jimmy is looking into it before bringing it to government as part of a package that includes voting rights for emigrants in presidential elections.
It is proposed that American Irish young people between the ages of 18 and 26 be offered an opportunity to spend 10 days in Ireland immersing themselves in the culture, language, history and modern day living conditions of the country to which they claim ancestral allegiance. The trip, which would be free to the participants, would be paid for out of a combination of philantropy and government funding.
A similar “Birthright” scheme is in place for young adults of the Jewish faith. This scheme is in place for 15 years and is very successful, creating a strong bond between the diaspora and the homeland.
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All is forgiven
I took this unlikely picture fro Joe Brolly’s Twitter feed. He is pictured here among some of the greats of Kerry sport at a recent fundraiser for Austin Stack’s GAA club.
He was brought onto the stage for a “surprise” confrontation with Kieran Donaghy. The whole country knows that Joe, in his role as a football pundit, had famously written off Donaghy in a season when he went on to win an All Ireland and an All Star.
When asked if he would apologise for the article, Brolly laughed it off saying that it was, in fact, a motivational exercise and it worked. “Didn’t I win him an All Star?” says he. No one could argue with that.
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