Bridge Road in April 2024
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Thomas Galvin Memorial
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The Creamery
This photo is from the Killorglin Archive online. The scene was replicated in hundreds of small branch creameries in the 1960s. Our local one was Bannagh, a branch of North Cork Creameries. Horses and donkeys laden with churns of fresh milk made their way to the landing every morning. A sample was taken, to be tested for butterfat content. Every supplier had his creamery book where his daily supply was noted. This was his record. The creamery also kept a record. Suppliers got a “creamery cheque” at the end of the month. The churns were often filled with skim milk to take home to feed calves.
The pace of life was slower then.
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Upcoming Performance
Frances is performing nearer to her old home on Friday next.
Last week in the same theatre they had John B. Keane’s Rain at the End of Summer. According to my friends who attended it was brilliant.
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Storm Kathleen
Last weekend’s storm brought out many photographers. Here are some great photos from Fenit that Graham Davies shared online.
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A Poem
Here is another Padraic Colum poem we learned at school. There are no drovers any more. These men were jobbers who made a living by buying and selling cattle at fairs. They were shrewd judges of cattle and knew their market well. They were also amateur psychologists who could size up a seller in a minute, knowing well who had to sell and who could afford to bring his beast home to wait for another day.
To Meath of the pastures,
From wet hills by the sea,
Through Leitrim and Longford
Go my cattle and me.
I hear in the darkness
Their slipping and breathing.
I name them the bye-ways
They’re to pass without heeding.
Then the wet, winding roads,
Brown bogs with black water;
And my thoughts on white ships
And the King o’ Spain’s daughter.
O! farmer, strong farmer!
You can spend at the fair
But your face you must turn
To your crops and your care.
And soldiers—red soldiers!
You’ve seen many lands;
But you walk two by two,
And by captain’s commands.
O! the smell of the beasts,
The wet wind in the morn;
And the proud and hard earth
Never broken for corn;
And the crowds at the fair,
The herds loosened and blind,
Loud words and dark faces
And the wild blood behind.
(O! strong men with your best
I would strive breast to breast
I could quiet your herds
With my words, with my words.)
I will bring you, my kine,
Where there’s grass to the knee;
But you’ll think of scant croppings
Harsh with salt of the sea.
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A Fact
Even though they are huge, blue whales feed almost exclusively on tiny krill. These are very small shrimp-like fish.
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