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: Pat Ingoldsby

Spring is Sprung

In the Wood near Childers’ Park

Schiller

Statue of Schiller in the Garden of Europe, one day in early spring 2025

Hugh Stancliffe’s memorial seat with a view of Schiller.

Writers’ Week Reveals its new Curator

R.I.P. Pat Ingoldsby

In memory of Pat, I’d like to share one of his most powerful poems. Pat was a very empathetic observer of the world around him. We need more like him.

TONIGHT THEY PUT THE COTSIDES UP

Tonight they put the cotsides up

onto the old man’s bed,

“You can’t fall out and hurt yourself,”

that’s what the nurses said.

And God you should have seen it, 

you should have seen his face, 

as metal sides both rattled 

and bolts clanked into place.

He sat there numb 

and silent, 

silent 

and very very still, 

and nobody who saw him, 

nobody ever will 

forget the way the colour 

drained right out of his face, 

as metal sides both rattled 

and bolts clanked into place.

The nurses said the cotsides 

were to keep him safe in bed, 

“You can’t fall out and hurt yourself,” 

that’s what the nurses said.

The rest of us lay looking, 

we know that no matter how far 

that old man fell in future 

it could never leave a scar 

the way those cotsides did.

Nobody wanted to catch his eye, 

he was curled up silent and still, 

maybe he’ll go asleep for us, 

that’s it – maybe he will 

go asleep embraced in a cradle, 

in the morning they’ll take 

the sides down,

Go asleep embraced in a cradle,

that’s the way Jesus was found.

You couldn’t go over and talk to him, 

for that would only mean… 

you couldn’t go over and talk to him 

for then you’d have to lean and look in over the top, 

nobody wanted to do that, 

remind him of the way you’d stop

and gaze at a new born infant.

And merciful God you couldn’t peep,

peeping through the bars would be worse, 

You couldn’t go over and talk to him,

Softly he started to curse,

“Do yez think I’m a bloody baby,

Do yez think I’m a baby or what?”

then he sank down under the covers,

In between the sides of his cot.

Tonight they put the cotsides up,

onto the old man’s bed,

“You can’t fall out and hurt yourself,”

that’s what the nurses said.

The rest of us lay looking,

we knew that no matter how far

that old man fell in future

it could never leave a scar

the way those cotsides did.

Welcome to my Head, 1986, Anna Livia

Birthday Celebrations Continuing

My birthday party is a bit like The Wedding Feast of Cana. It’s been going on now for over a week.

Part 2 was a day out with my friends to Adare with lunch in the Carriage House restaurant. Still feeling like a queen!

A little bit of horse lore on the menu

The meal was delicious and the company relaxed and entertaining, a lovely treat.

After lunch we transferred to the Manor for an post lunch cup of tea.

My image lools a bit funereal. These top hatted doormen were everywhere. I didn’t open a door all day.

Then we took in the chocolate cottage. Here you can drink hot chocolate or buy a souvenir confection to take home. A bar of chocolate; which is made on site, is 10 euros.

This box of luxury chocolates, handmade in Adare, costs 450 euros. I know it’s kind of vulgar to talk about prices in these places but….

We didn’t bother with the souvenir shop. We knew we’d have to take out a mortgage to buy anything there. We did visit the golf shop however to see how they were preparing for the Ryder Cup.

As expected, the merch is already in and selling well.

All in all a trip to Adare Manor is a luxurious treat, a great way to feel really special and to get a glimpse at how the other half live.

A Fact

In 1970 one maneating tiger devoured 48 people in India. A maneating tiger can eat up to 400 people in his lifetime.

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A Chemist, a Poet and Jockey

Spring 2025 daffodils on the walk through Childers’ Park

New Book by Local Author

John O’Donoghue is from Mountcoal (St. Senan’s) originally. He attended Dromclough Primary School and St. Michael’s College. He studied Chemistry at UCC and after a brief spell at Queens University. Belfast, he has been at Trinity College Dublin for the past decade. Dr. John O’Donoghue is
RSC Chemistry Education Coordinator at the School of Chemistry.
Trinity College Dublin. He returns often to Listowel and never misses the Listowel Races!

His new book is a fascinating one.

Onscreen Chemistry examines how Science and scientists are portrayed on the silver screen.

Well worn stereotype: The Nutty Professor
Another scientist stereotype, Frankenstein: the evil monster

John is passionate about engaging young people in Science and has worked on several initiatives to promote STEM in schools and he has led the debate on renewable energy storage.

In his new book, John looks at how the image we have of chemists has changed over time and the myth and reality of the chemistry teacher turned evil drug supplier.

Sounds fascinating.

Saorstát Eireann Postbox

Text and photos by Michael Fortune of Folklore.ie

Spotted this yesterday – an old Saorstát Éireann post box. I pass it the whole time and said I’d better stop and get a snap of it. These Saorstát Éireann are rare these days and this one’s still in use. This one was made by WT Allen & Co., London and I’d be guessing it’s from the late 1920s. A great little piece of Irish history.

Michael lives in Wexford so I’m prsuming the poxstbox is in Wexford.

Pat’s Hat is No More

PAT, August 25th 1942 – March 1st 2025

I VISUALISE MY DEATH

I will go down to the water’s edge in Malahide 

because it is time.

Da will be there in the boat.

He will smile.

“You’re coming over” he will say.

He knows.

“Yes I am. It’s lovely to see you.”

“Come on” he will say. “Ta is waiting.”

A smile of joy will warm me.

He will not need to help me over the side.

Everything will be easy.

Da will pull on the oars

and away we will go

crossing over

to the island,

forever

getting there.

.

portrait of Pat by Seamus Murphy

Unbelievable but True

This jockey’s story has to be the most bizarre ever. Let me clarify something. Even though I found the story on the Grand National Guide website, the race in question here was a flat race in America and before you ask, there was no weighing in back then.

In the world of horse racing, stories of grit and determination are common—but none quite as surreal as Frank Hayes’ final race. In 1923, Hayes, a relatively unknown jockey, rode Sweet Kiss to an unlikely victory. What made this race unforgettable wasn’t just the underdog story—it was the fact that Hayes had suffered a fatal heart attack mid-race, yet his body remained in the saddle, crossing the finish line first.

In a bittersweet moment of triumph, Hayes became the only jockey in history to win a race posthumously. It’s a story that reminds us just how unpredictable the sport can be, where victory and tragedy sometimes ride side by side. To this day, Sweet Kiss was never raced again, earning the eerie nickname “The Horse That Killed a Jockey.”

A Fact

In 1858, a peasant girl called Bernadette Soubirous reported seeing her first vision of Our Lady at Lourdes.

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