The Thousand Euro Pond Deal That Sunk For 58 Cent!

When my daughter Helen decided that she would like to have a fish pond in her back garden and that I should design it for her; it brought me back to a time a good number of years ago now when I had a great interest in such matters.

Before computers became personal I was buying up weekly and monthly fish keeping magazines, mainly concerned with pond fish as in koi, goldfish, orfe, etc., and having built a few ponds at the time I felt I had acquired a good knowledge of all that was necessary for keeping coldwater fish in a pond?

The pond was to be constructed just over two meters out from the ‘floor to ceiling’ viewing window in her dining come kitchen area. In the design I decided that the pond should have a relationship to the size of the window and consequently the pond was to be constructed; 10ft. x, 5ft.x, 2ft. deep. This would have a volume capacity of just short of three thousand litres and would be adequate for housing a reasonable number of goldfish and possibly with care (good filtration etc,) a special koi at least for a time.

The pond would have three return water spouts, the whole having a surround wall of stone and would be suitably lit to make it what I believe will be a very nice feature day or night.

The contractor for the works was engaged to include with the pond a new patio, pathways, retaining walls etc, the contractor is a person that is known to us and a very competent operator in all aspects of his work. He advised Helen that he would purchase the furnishing for the pond, that is pump, filter, etc on her behalf should she so wish; this was outside the contract as I had advised earlier. I was very confident that not only would we get the right equipment to have the pond function in top condition for the future but I knew and had done business with a supplier in Ireland of the very best in water gardening; consequently, the contractor’s offer was declined.

Having fallen out of touch with what might be the best in “modern” pond equipment I decided to refresh my knowledge by going on line. When all was said and done I came down on the side of OASE Filtoclear Pressure Filter Kit as the way to go. I concluded that the Filtoclear 6000 Kit; that is the 6000 filter combined with the 6000lt. an hour eco pump and a 11 watt UV bulb would be adequate to meet our needs with a reasonable number of fish. With the liner, hose, and clips, I had figured from our proposed sales people website it would come to just over €800. Should we get a reduction of €20 - €30 on this, I felt I could include an aeration system that would fit to Helen’s €1000 budget for this aspect of the job.

Very early on a dark November morning, Helen, her mother, her daughter and myself set out for Dublin by car, there was to be a shopping spree before going on to the pond equipment dealer in another part of the country, but first we had to visit Barack’s for breakfast.

I had communicated with the company by email earlier in the week stating my previous satisfactory experience both in advice and purchase and expressed the hope that the same would apply on this occasion. The prompt reply stated that they were looking forward to meeting and to give them a ring in advance with the time and day to enable them to have a ‘proper’ agent to satisfy our needs. I consulted with my travelling companions on the day prior to the trip as to the time we could convey to the company as time of arrival and the time of 1.30pm was passed on by phone.

It was 12.30pm when we left Dublin to arrive at the nearest large town to our destination where lunch was on the menu and after a leisurely lunch there was some more browsing in the shops. When we eventually set out in earnest to reach our dealer we found ourselves on a narrow rural road with a tractor and trailer travelling at less than twenty kilometres an hour spraying water and mud on to our windshield – what a miserable afternoon it was, but it was to get worse! It was 3.05pm when we arrived at our destination, Helen, her mother and I dashed across a concrete yard to a large shed. (The daughter stayed in the car with her IPhone) Inside the shed there was all manner of items and features connected with water gardening. The person in charge approached us from the far corner of the shed and asked: “Are ye the one thirty people?” “I’m with a customer at the moment.” Not too happy we thought.

After the customer was served he did give us his attention and I explained the purpose of our visit and would appreciate any advice he might offer us. The first question was; what are the proportions of the pond, I stated they were: 10`x 5`x 2` he calculated this to be a volume of 4000 litres. I corrected this to be less than 3000 litres. Not critical he said, can we say 4000, to which I agreed. Having gone in to the pond aspects as in orientation, the fish stocking etc.. he concluded that Helen would require a Filtoclear Set of 12000. I (mistakenly as it turned out) took this to mean a filter capacity of 12000 and a pump capacity of 12000. This to my thinking at the time had the capacity to turn over the volume of the pond every fifteen minutes, less some other small calculation. When I studied ponds in the past every two hours was recommended. I felt confident that my view was correct, our adviser agreed with me although with some reservations.

The price quoted OASE Filtoclear 6000 Kit was €572.00. We will be paying in cash, what can you give it to us for, we will be purchasing other items also, I informed him? This is where I had hoped to make the largest reduction on the price quoted on the net. That’s it, he declared. I went on to say that I had purchased some items previously and had got a reduction. You were lucky on that occasion, he told me. He did show some unease in his demeanour at the very suggestion. It was at this point the realisation that my ambitions for an aeration system were fading fast. Helen and I exchanged glances; there was no need to verbalise. We will require a liner also I informed him. We have a premium rubber liner here in the yard; will you have a look at it? And yes, the liner did look the business. What measurement do you require, he asked? In old measure it is 16ft.x11ft. Can you convert? After a couple of moments he announced “that will be €230.58” You are not leaving the 58c there are you, I asked? To which there was no reply. For the first time Helen did ask me if we should continue. Give me the total bill for what we have discussed already, I asked. With pencil and paper the tot came to €802.58 I was getting annoyed with the fifty eight cent, after all I was feeling confident setting out that I could get €20 - €30 of the total. Will you tell me, what is it with the fifty eight cent that it remains attached I asked? “Are you being rude or are you making a joke?” was his reply. It was at this point that Helen decided to intervene.

 “I have been dealing with sales people for very many years but you must be the worst mannered I have ever come across. Your attitude from when first we arrived and particularly to my eighty year old father was rude and condescending. Should this transaction cost twice the money elsewhere it is preferable to doing business with you. Good afternoon sir!” And so ended a day of great expectation, was it arriving late? Was it the pond volume correction? Was it not taking the advice on the kit? We will never know now, but this was a thousand euro deal that sunk for fifty eight cent. As we got back to the car and out of the rain and cloud filled darkening sky, the daughter, with her head and two thumbs on the IPhone inquired: Where is our stuff that we have come all this way for?

As we set out for the long journey home and in silence I might add; a thought came to mind and I don’t know why, and it was of a film of the 1950s starring Spencer Tracy, called,         Bad Day at Black Rock.

 

Pelargonium:  Skies of Italy.

 

From a very early age growing up in the Irish countryside and particularly so in my case as I was born and raised under a thatched roof that even by then more than seventy years ago now were beginning to disappear from the landscape. Rarely would you find any of these centuries old dwellings without a geranium on the windowsill throughout the summer months, and later on returned to the inside sill when frost threatened. Never in my memory was there an occasion without a white or red, but in particular a white geranium to be seen. And sure struggling it might well be after a winter in poor light and drying out from the heat of a kitchen fire, but given a drink and the onset of spring it perked up and was prepared to take its place once more on the summer windowsill.

Resilient,  is how I would describe these wonderful plants as they seemed to thrive on neglect and when old-age and abuse got the better of them and on their last legs so to speak, a cutting or two was propagated and in a matter of months you had a flowering new plant to start all over again. We need not rehash here all this business of our geraniums being strictly pelargonium’s and we know why it must be stated in officialdom, but I would safely say my late mother and indeed her mother before her both of whom loved geraniums hardly ever heard of the word pelargonium.  I got my love of geraniums from my mother who as I have explained always seemed to have a few plats in the very worst of economic times in Ireland, that is to say during and just after the second world war; geraniums and pot marigolds (Calendula) all pretty much self-perpetuating was the staple of our cottage garden. I hope to include here a photograph of my late mother’s kitchen window displaying some of her geraniums with other plants in a window box.

Over the years my interest in the ornamental flower garden grew to include all types of plants depending on location and what might best suit the situation at hand; whether they be herbaceous perennials, woody shrubs, annuals, etc. Then out of the blue two years ago (2010) suddenly, and for no apparent reason that I can recall, my interest in geraniums I can’t say returned, for up to then my interest could best be described as  latent or dormant but was now present and here with a passion. I looked up geranium nurseries at home and in the UK and following on from that I ordered about a dozen mostly of the “zonal” variety from Fibrex Nurseries, Pebworth, Stratford-upon-Avon; they hold the Pelargonium National Collection. Plants are grown to order for you and are delivered at an optimum time for the growing season; usually in early spring. Young rooted cuttings (in my case) were delivered in due course; all in good order for potting on. Of course one has selected from the website which of necessity has minimal information and is not at all the same as seeing the plants in the flesh so to speak.

In August of 2011 with my geraniums growing well I went to visit friends in Birmingham, UK, and having been there for a few days my host asked if I would like a drive out into the countryside. I asked if he knew Pebworth, Stratford-upon-Avon.  He knew Stratford and surely we can find Pebworth, was his reply. Stratford-upon-Avon is a pleasant motor ride from Birmingham and Pebworth is just round the corner from there. Mind you, it is a little backwater right in the countryside and we found ourselves making a couple of inquiries before finally driving in the entrance to Fibrex nurseries (sure what else would you expect from a couple of Paddy’s and their wives?) The hustle and bustle of summer planting was by now over for the general public and as a consequence I would say with the exception of staff who were busy the place was almost devoid of visitors with just a few others to keep us company. The first section to greet you on entering the nursery and no doubt for good reason is the sales section. And even now in late summer, set out in rows on benches close to waist high are hundreds of all types, and all colours in both leaf and flower of the geranium world. Looking into the distance and with my selection already in progress; realization dawned of the drawback of “air” transport and the limitations it imposes. A brief chat with a member of staff to inform of my purchase earlier on and to remark that all were doing well, after which I was invited to visit the ‘National Collection’ housed deeper inside the nursery.

Inside the large structure were hundreds of plants grown to perfection. All were in deep pots sitting on a gravel bed on a knee-high bench. If I were to guess I would say the plants were at least a year old. Looking in wonder at all these beautiful plants the thought did occur to me; how difficult it must be to keep them in such condition over a severe winter. On this occasion my attention was directed in particular to the “fancy leaf” zonal geraniums. And there was a very large collection all grouped together on one stand. After many uh’s and aw’s I came to the conclusion that one of the very best in my humble opinion was one called, Skies of Italy, it just stood out for me and I will explain why in the context of my own plant presently. After about an hour or more with the National Collection I returned once more to the ‘sales’ section where I was pleasantly surprised to find a fine specimen of Skies of Italy which I purchased.

Skies of Italy is described on the nursery website as a, “Golden tri-colour, Double orange flower, Vigorous.”                              I love the habit of growth and the vigour as already mentioned. In just one year my plant has reached 60cm high and as much across. I love how the large coloured leaf stands boldly out from its leaf axle, there is no hint of a droop at the edges and what a fantastic leaf it is; fully 14cm that is 5 ½ inches for some of the larger ones. (See photo) For me it’s the leaf, its habit of growth, size and colour that is the highlight of this geranium. And while the flowers are pretty in red/orange it would not bother me if they stayed away. I have photographed my own Skies of Italy that you see here with an emphasis, close up, on the lovely leaf growth. There is just a hint of the flower perhaps one petal in the upper centre of the picture.

I would love to present this pelargonium as a standalone feature in an ornate terracotta pot in bright arid conditions and with a sandstone background – I just think it would look spectacular.

This is Danny’s Quaint Ireland and it is Cóipcheart © Cois Má 2012

What is an Orthopaedic Chair?

What is an Orthopaedic Chair?

If the truth were told all of us are creatures of habit and if a survey were taken I’m willing to bet that a great number of us have a favourite place to occupy within the home, church, or hall and within this space is a favourite seat or chair. The chair photographed here is that of Judge Richard Jebb; it was from this seat in the Spring Assizes, March, 1820, at Limerick Courthouse that he sentenced John Scanlan, to be hanged for the murder of the Colleen Bawn, on the Shannon: An important chair, occupying an important space, and more importantly giving comfort and ease to the learned judge in his role in the administration of justice.

I was close to home after a brisk constitutional walk on one of those rare bright sunny mornings in winter, when suddenly the sky darkened and a deep shadow descended. Before me blocking my path stood a man of great stature – a giant of a man.

“Aren’t you the lucky man to have met me today” - was how he greeted me. “I’m going out of business and I have a beautiful, quality, leather suite that I’m practically giving away.”

From years of experience I have learned that the “modus operandi” of these travelling salesmen is to counter ones every move to avoid purchasing their ‘must have’ product. And despite this, we are quite often left holding an item that you wonder what possible use you can put it to within minutes of the salesman’s departure.

I’m sorry, I said; I purchased a beautiful quality leather suite some years ago and I have no room for two of them.

Where! He asked.

What do you mean, where? I countered.

“Where did you buy this quality leather suite?”

It was purchased in Casey’s at Raheen, said I, without hesitation.

As quickly as it had descended the shadow lifted; the sun shone again and I was free to continue my journey, while at the same time congratulating myself that I was not left trying to lug a quality leather suite back to my home. I was about to enter the footpath that leads to my front door, when a voice from nowhere shouted: “Hello Sir! Can I interest you in a lovely quality leather suite?”

I was shortly to be joined by a stocky guy; the owner of the voice; and one whom I judged to be about my own age that is to say;- going on elderly. I concluded by the ‘cut of his jib’ and confident demeanour that I had here a client of greater determination to offload than that of his bulkier companion I had encountered earlier. I met your brother earlier: Was how I opened my defence.

“What brother? I’ve no brother,” he replied.

Are there two of you selling quality leather suites? I asked.

“It’s a gorgeous piece and you won’t be disappointed at the price – take a look at it anyway.”

No! I said, I’ve no room for it. He guessed that I had actually been the recipient of an earlier effort to offload by his companion and changed tack.

“I have a lovely chair and you can put it anywhere in the house; it’s made for you.” Was the follow up approach? I felt it was now time to end this conversation and decided to volunteer more information as to why I could not contemplate the purchase of any items of furniture at this time. ‘When I retired from work some years ago I completely refurbished the house – in fact I’m waiting on a skip to rid myself of some of the old discarded stuff out the back.’ This declaration I thought would surely end the conversation.

“Would there be an old ‘dresser’ in it by any chance? – I’ll take it off your hands.”

No dresser, I replied, but there is an old broken-down vacuum cleaner that I can let you have.

“Who would want a broken-down vacuum cleaner?”

I don’t know, I said, but in the right situation it could pass for a nice ornament?

“Come on, he said, you’ll buy the orthopaedic chair from me – it’s made for you?”

The reader will be aware that the chair has now entered a new classification, in that it is described as orthopaedic. Having never heard of, and with no knowledge at all that such a chair existed, I felt for the first time in this whole episode that I was beginning to lose control and somewhat out of my depth. Furthermore, somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain I was not at all comfortable with the word “orthopaedic.”

Would you say I’m a candidate for one of these chairs, I asked him.

“You’d never know;” was his reply.

To strengthen my case and partly convince myself that I was not in need of such a chair or likely to need one in the near future, I resorted to a little exaggeration. ‘I’ll have you know that I have just completed a six mile walk in little over an hour.’ I told him.

“Oh! You’ll be looking for a young one of around thirty so!”

Well my God; I thought; to what lengths will this fellow go to make a sale. Moreover, he must know from my appearance and age that I could hardly keep the woman in food not to mention maintenance. Am I to assume you are speaking from personal experience? I asked with interest.

At that he turned on his heel and made a dash for a white van parked on the far side of the road. “Have you got her in the van?” I shouted, as he slammed the door and drove off without belting up.

Now! I’ve heard of hall chairs, dining room chairs, kitchen chairs, but what (and the purpose of this post) is: AN ORTHOPAEDIC CHAIR?

This is Danny’s Quaint Ireland. It is Cóipcheart © Cois Má 2010

Manister History Project 2000

An Introduction to Axe-Manister (Below)



Manister parish is situated to the east of the town of Croom, that is close enough to the centre of county Limerick. It would be fair to say that it has struggled over the years to keep its identity as autonomous and equal to other parishes in the county. I have had occasion recently to check out the listed buildings contained in the ”Limerick County Development Plan” and of many listed within the parish, only one is deemed to be located in Manister and even then it is shown as Monasternenagh – there is no reference anywhere to Manister or Monaster. It is a small parish undoubtedly, but this is no reason to ignore its existence.
Early in 2000 a likeminded group got together for the purpose of documenting a history of the parish with the intention of presenting it in book form to the “church” for its jubilee year. At first glance it would appear that this was going to be a simple enough proposition as getting around this small parish was no big deal and we had all summer to do it. The jewel in the crown for this historical group as they set out was of course the Cistercian Abbey, founded here in 1148 by Turlough O’Brien, King of Munster, and if there was no more than this extensive ruin from whence Manister got its name to write about, surely, this was reason enough to embark on the project.
As we raced to the close of 2000 and yet more and more historical subjects coming to attention, pre Christian monuments; social upheavals; early Christian settlements, together with many others, some “more recent” shall we say, but of no less interest for those of us who seek knowledge of our own place. After some late nights and a hasty bundling of the material, and with a sigh of relief, it was handed over to the printer with instructions to get the whip out to meet our deadline. And while we admired some beautifully reproduced photographs, lovely text etc., the duplication and missed pages were never going to be a runner. With the disappointment of missing the deadline after a year’s hard work, there was one consolation; we had a glimpse of what was possible and we had a new whole year to do it!


The decade has now passed into history and the book is still in the making. We must be the only history group ever that met regularly for the first year of its existence and hasn’t met at all in the intervening ten years; well, not formally anyway. We do on occasion meet at funerals. For the impatient who wish to see the book, it is a bit of a nuisance but on the positive side, there is always that little bit of additional information to add to what is now a very large volume of work. If you were in discussion with someone like me who was retired when this project began and introduced the subject to them, you may well be greeted with a vacant expression and the query; “what history book?"
To be involved in this project was and still is exciting, not only for the reminder of what a rich heritage we have all about us, but what is of particular satisfaction to me and comes about largely because of being born and raised in this place and armed with the intimate knowledge of the terrain here and the experience of other investigators in similar circumstances and places, we have been able to unearth previously undocumented information in respect of our ancient and not so ancient past in Manister.
Can all this gathering of information over more than a decade be lost to the wider public? Well of course it can, and certainly so if it were to remain in jotters, copybooks, and computers even. History is made every day, and those of us that document it are history tomorrow!
If the outcome of all this data gathering is to end with the publication of a book, then the material has to be retained and jealously guarded to bring about the desired result – there is to be no drip feeding, and this has largely been the position over the past ten years – until now that is. I have decided to break with tradition and produce one item; one of very many, but one that will show how we went about our business; how we were able to resolve important and difficult issues and bring them to a satisfactory conclusion.
In posting this introductory piece to the “history item” below, it is my wish that everything will go according to plan. With this “introduction” I plan to publish a very beautiful photograph taken at Rathmore in the summer of 2000, it is of an ancient fort surrounded by bales of hay, with the Galtee Mountains in the background. I will now have to have a further look at the historical piece and see if I can post it after all?
This is Danny’s Quaint Ireland and it is Cóipcheart © Cois Má 2010

Manister Axe

AXE it: AXE it we did!

We were but some months into the research, collecting and collating all things historical connected with the parish of Manister. When on a Tuesday night we met as a group at the community centre as was our custom at the time to discuss the programme to be pursued for the week ahead.
We had just about commenced the meeting when one of the members asked those present to close their eyes, as he was about to unveil a surprise out of a little leather satchel that he had by his side. On such occasions previously there had been odd photographs, bits of writings, old maps etc. This is `primary` material, folks, he said, as we were instructed to open the eyelids once more.
There on the tabletop before us was the most magnificent `stone axe` that anyone present had ever seen. To be truthful, we all stared in awe and wonderment for some minutes before one of the group got back enough breath to ask – where in the name of God did you get it? While another asked – what is it? What is it! - said the holder of our treasure, what is it, but quite possibly the most significant find since the discovery of the `Tory Hill gold collar` and that’s a world-class artifact.
After everyone had handled and thoroughly scrutinized the object all were in agreement that this was a real work of art. One thing was for certain, - there was no one present whose father had one from the old days, or whose grandfather had a couple up the chimneybreast. There was one further observation by one of the group however, and it was, - ` whoever owned it didn’t do much with it? ` No sign of bloodstains, pieces of scalp or anything of that nature adhering, is how we understood his comment.

Come on, don’t keep us in suspense – where did you get it, was the general cry after the preliminaries were over. Was it found in the parish?
To keep the anonymity of the owner intact the object came by circuitous route to the member of our group and it was essential that it would return to the safe keeping of its owner in the same manner it had arrived; - it had after all been under cover for a very long time.
The stone axe didn’t just come in a little leather bag, no, accompanying it came the following story. It appears that some time in or around the mid nineteen twenties an ancestor of the present owner was ploughing a field with a pair of horses, this being close by to an ancient site in the parish of Manister, when up turned (unearth) the beautiful stone axe now before us. So mesmerized and dumfounded was the discoverer and owner of the field by the significance of the object he had uncovered, that he ceased ploughing and from that day right up to the present, the field has not been ploughed.

After further discussion we were unanimous, that if nothing else were to come of our history exploits in the parish, this find alone was a major discovery for the group. But how now were we to get over `tricky` hurdles on our way to glory. None among us was acquainted with the present law of the `State` in respect of the discovery of stone axes, not withstanding the fact that it had been found more than 70 years previously, and no matter how `civic minded;` our obligation had to be its safe return to its owner; our reputation as unhindered traversers of the local countryside depended on it. How then were we to get our information without producing the goods?
It was decided that your scribe could be trusted to take the object home with him where photographs could be taken and perhaps some discrete inquiries made before it (the axe) beat a hasty retreat by the circuitous route back from whence it came.

Although late into the night when I returned home, temptation got the better of me when I phoned a fellow Manister man and asked him if he could call round as I had something important to show him. It must be important at this hour of the night came back the terse reply. I had our stone axe resting on a white tablecloth (for better impact) when he arrived. Having been ushered in to the special space where he immediately observed our piece-de-resistance, there followed a long silence.
Where did it come from, was the first remark, having rolled the object round in his hands for quite some time, and obviously impressed by what he has seen and felt. To take the incredulous look off his face, I blurted out; `I made it. ` Ah, feck off, was the reply. This helped to remove the tension and thereafter went on to discuss all possibilities. Do you realize I said that the man who carried this object in his belt might be strutting around Manister as far back as 7,000 years ago when it is said that man first set foot on this little island of ours." I wouldn’t care to have it fall on my toe," was the follow up remark from my visitor.

No time was lost in photographing, measuring, and weighing the object and having discussed with likeminded enthusiasts of matters historical it was decided to make contact with Mr. Denis Power, of the `National Monuments Depot` Mallow Co Cork, who although limited to photographic, and written description of the object, agreed to make inquiries on our behalf.
Hereunder are the questions posed by our group?

“As can be seen from the photographs the object is without blemish, it is 5 inches in length, it is 2 inches in width and is 2 lb in weight.
For obvious reasons it is most important that as full and comprehensive description as possible on this object be conveyed to us.

(1) Can you for example give us an exact description of what this object is and for what purpose it might be used?
(2) What type of stone was it made from, is it local, or was it perhaps imported into the locality from some other part of Ireland.
(3) How was the handle attached?
(4) From its description can a period in time for its use be given and can this be reasonably accurate.
(5) Have there been many of the type found in Ireland previously, are there others in County Limerick.
(6) In your opinion, - is this a significant find in archaeological terms and if so perhaps you can state why this is so.

Any additional information on this subject that you consider relevant will of course be received with much gratitude and with your approval have it included in our parish history.
Thanking you for your help in this matter.

Yours sincerely,

While awaiting a reply to the above I took the opportunity of visiting `The National Museum` Dublin, where there is on display a range of `Stone Age` implements. And although many and varied, there was nothing like our Manister axe. The nearest in mineral composition, viewed through a glass case, and more of a hatchet than an axe, came from the north of Ireland. Yes! We really had something important on our hands no doubt.
At about two weeks on from the inquiry above I took the opportunity of phoning Mr. Power at his Mallow office in the hope of some progress being made and to be honest, there was a restless and eager anticipation of an announcement of monumental proportions on my part. What will be revealed?
Mr. Power stressed the point that `stone axes` was not his field of expertise but that he had been looking up some reference material from his base at Mallow and further to that he had looked at some catalogues at U.C.C. - to date, nothing like our stone axe has turned up. I will be meeting with Professor Gabriel Cooney, Department of Archaeology, U.C.D. next week. Professor Cooney is the foremost authority on stone axes in Ireland
It was with pounding heart and a lump in my throat that I heard the phone ring out in Mr. Power’s office on the appointed day for contact regarding his Dublin excursion. On finding my man on the other end of the line; well, `what did Mr. Stoneaxe have to say for himself? ` I asked. “Having looked at the photographs he is in little doubt but the axe is not Irish and in fact he is pretty certain that it is AMERICAN!!”

There is no doubting the sincerity and absolute good faith of the person(s) who gave this artifact for consideration by our historical group and no doubt were even more taken aback by the outcome than we were.
Could Professor Cooney be mistaken, after all he didn’t see the axe? Hardly; we were to learn subsequently, that not only was our `ploughman` in America as a young man, but he was also a member of the U.S. Cavalry.
And so ended a short period of glorious expectation for our historical team; but sure, it’s still our history isn’t it?

This is Danny’s Quaint Ireland, it is Cóipcheart © Cois Má 2010

A Hurling Afternoon in Newport

A Hurling Afternoon in Newport

A Chance Encounter

With just a few weeks on from the `County Final (2007) debacle there is still an air of `Doom and Gloom` in the town of Croom and while elsewhere, and you know where, there is a pep in the step in the village of Adare. No! Its not poetry but you know what I mean. When we think of all those people who travelled from far-flung places to be with us in the expectation of a celebration, we feel this defeat and the manner of its execution a dreadful letdown for all concerned.
There are not many now who attended the last one in `48 but Fr. David O’Regan did, and had to return from London for this one; or so he told us from the alter at Sunday Mass on the morning of the game.
The weekend papers following the game were scathing in their account of proceedings on the pitch, and described the game as possibly the worst final ever. “It was like blocking windows with brown paper bags in the face of an atomic attack,” declared another.
The Atomic Bomb wasn’t invented when Croom last won a Senior County Championship (1941) but when we did win it; there were a number of their ranks that played with the County team. We have had no such group since then – a period of up on sixty years. Well, not until now that is, and who would say that they haven’t made a significant contribution to the Limerick team – come on, be honest; was this one of the most wonderful, exciting years in the history of Limerick hurling and we in Croom gaeldom had a group of lads that played their part in it.
When we speak of Croom’s proud hurling tradition there are few now who can recall those far off days of glory, and fewer still who wish to impart it for fear of the `deaf ear` or worse still no ear at all, but I’m going to risk all that - I’m going to chance an outburst of nostalgia!

Limerick qualified to meet Kilkenny in the National Hurling League Final of 1983 to be held at Thurles on Sunday the 25th April having beaten Wexford in the Semi-Final two weeks earlier. Due to a prior commitment Limerick had agreed to play Tipperary in a fund-raising match to be played at Newport on the Sunday before the final. This was an unexpected development and because the two engagements were so close it became necessary to find an entirely new team to take on Tipp, not wishing to risk any injury to the team for the League Final.

As we made our way up the hill from Newport town to the field on this April Sunday evening an icy blast came swirling down from Keeper Hill in whose shadow the Pádraig O Riain (Lacken) Memorial Park stands. The cold of the evening was no surprise as earlier that afternoon before we set out from Croom an enormous shower of hail left the streets covered in a shimmering mass of ice

The game had already commenced as I took up my position at the back of the goal nearest the entrance gate and Limerick had a point on the scoreboard. The interest for me in this somewhat insignificant game were the new faces to be called on to make up this second string Limerick Team. Sidelined for this game were the old `reliables` Len. Enright, Seán Foley, Liam O’Donoghue, Joe McKenna… In, in their place came Pat Potter, Mike Barron, Dom Punch, Peter O’Connor, Frankie Nolan, Joe Mann… .
The first half was a mediocre affair with both teams level 1 – 6 to 0 – 9 at the interval. Our enjoyment of the game wasn’t enhanced any either by a light shower of hail that fell during the break.
The game wasn’t long underway for the second half with Limerick playing in to the town goal, when not for the first time in his very significant but unassuming hurling career Frankie Nolan flashed the ball to the net from a melee outside the square. (Will I ever forget his wonderful goal taken from an angle on the left hand side in the first half of the Munster Final of 1973? Without it, club-mate Ritchie’s celebrated point with the last puck of the sliotar would be just another statistic in a losing game.)
I believe it was at this point that I first became aware of the elderly gentleman standing by my side, wearing a heavy overcoat and with a soft hat pulled well down on his forehead, and who like me peered through the wire mesh fencing that by now had become part of the modern Gaelic Park. Gone were the men with the `tag` tied with a piece of string to the buttonhole in the `lapel` of the bodycoat, declaring for all that they were `Maor`. And with shouts of `back behind the line` back, back to the line, as the sliotar is lost in a forest of spectators. I stand to be corrected, but I think this came to head in Croom when Tournafulla and Patrickswell played here in a County Final. With about ten minutes to go and the players playing in a 20-yard strip from one goal to another and with the gap getting progressively narrower, the referee wisely called a halt to proceedings for another day and another venue. I digress; as we peered through the mesh, my companion and I began to shout encouragement to our goalie and backs that were now at our end of the field. “Come on Mike Barron, get that ball out of there.” “Well played Jimmy Fenton.” On a number of occasions my newfound companion remarked: “We’re tough at the back.” “Will you look at that? That’s the second blatant foul that hasn’t been penalized; I hope he is more alert next Sunday! (Same referee, Noel Dalton for final.) To be honest I hadn’t seen the fouls alluded to and thought this old man could be the typical hurler on the ditch – never played the game but could tell all others how it should be done.
As the game progressed into the last ten minutes or so we had to weather the proverbial storm from Tipperary and we eventually came out winners with the scoreboard reading 1 – 15 to 1 – 12.

As we turned away from the wire my companion for the hour remarked:
“Do you know that Tipperary hasn’t beaten Limerick in twelve years.” (Can this be true?) And followed up with: “With any luck it will be another twelve!”
Where do you come from, he asked, by way of conversation as we headed for the exit.
Croom, I replied. Do you know, I will have to shake the hand of a Croom man – I come from there myself? I’m sorry I said but I’m afraid I don’t know you. My name is Garrett Howard he replied!
Whatever else might be said by this Colossus of hurling lore in the fleeting moments before we parted in the gathering twilight was lost in the turmoil of my brain for I was trying to get to grips with the fact that I hadn’t recognised this masterful and unique hurler from Croom. And even as our farewell utterences were exchanged I was trying to recall some of the honours he had achieved in an era long, long, gone by.

Seamus O Ceallaigh, in his `Great Limerick Athletes` written for the Limerick Leader (1954) began his piece on our own Garrett Howard thus:
“Search where you may it would be difficult to find a hurler with a finer record than that to the name of Garrett Howard, the only Limerickman to win five All Ireland Senior Hurling Championship medals, and boasting other claims to fame in that he represented Ireland in both hurling and shinty at two successive Tailteann games; played for both Leinster and Munster in Railway Cup Finals; won National Hurling League trophies with Dublin and Limerick; figured on the successful side in eight provincial finals – four each in Leinster and Munster; and has a grand total of eight County senior hurling championship mementoes to his credit – five won with Garda in Dublin; two with the famous Tipperary Toomevara Greyhounds, and one- his first-won with his home club in Croom.” And now you know the difficulty I had in recalling the honours attained by this, my companion of a bitterly cold afternoon in Newport.
Time and space will not permit me to write all the superlatives and credits that O Ceallaigh attributes to this wonderful Croom sportsman but how fortunate we are now more than half a century on that he had the foresight to commit it to print.
Here is another piece from O Ceallaigh and as a Croom man I’m particularly pleased: “Garrett, who hailed from the rich lands of Croom proved himself one of the most versatile men in the game. A great defender with good hands, he was equally at home in the forward line and must have won more hurling gold medals than any other man of his era. And he often told me that whatever he knew about the game he learned it from the great Croom men of his young days-the Mangans, Feely, Shea etc and at the (dare we say it) Christian Brother Schools, Adare. Possessed of sprinters pace and infinite resourcefulness his grand judgement and ashcraft were bye-words in hurling circles during his long years service.”
I have read that last sentence over and over and all I can say about it is, - now that is pure poetry.
Garret won his first senior medal when he played with Croom in the final of the 1919 County Senior Hurling Championship. And he played in his first Munster final in the 1920 Championship. Limerick qualified for the All Ireland final of 1921 when they beat Galway in the Semi-Final. The final wasn’t played until March 1923 the first final to be played after the changeover from British rule when President Cosgrave and seven ministers attended.
Garrett joined the Garda in 1924 and won his first Leinster Championship medal and later that year won an All Ireland medal playing for Dublin, he was to go on to win Leinster Championships with Dublin in 1925,1927,and 1928.
Playing with the Garda club he won five Dublin Senior County Championship medals in the years 1925 – 1929, and also won three Dublin Senior Hurling League trophies in the same period


Right: Garrett, as he lined out for Limerick in the 1934 All Ireland Hurling Final


Garrett’s first National League medal was won with Dublin in 1929, after which he transferred to Portroe, Co Tipperary in early 1930; he turned out for Toomevara that same year to win a County Senior Hurling medal and added another playing with the same club in 1931. Picked to play for the Tipperary County team in 1931 he helped them win Thomond Tournament honours, but beaten by Cork in the Munster championship. In the same year (1931) he was picked to play with Munster in the Railway Cup and helped them beat Leinster with the score 1 – 12 to 2 – 6.

Garrett declared for his native Limerick in 1933 and by so doing joined the team that was to become known as `The team of all the talents` he played a significant part in Limerick’s four in a row Munster Championship titles from 1933 – 1936. In this meritorious and outstanding period in Limerick hurling, Garrett won two All Ireland Championship medals in 1934 and 1936. He won five National Hurling League titles in the years 1934 to 1938. And in the same period he won four Thomond Tournament trophies playing for his native Limerick.
We have not discussed at all the `International Games` he played or the very many valuable `Tournaments` he won in almost two decades in top class hurling. Neither have we touched on the many outstanding games that Garrett played on losing sides and that count for little in the history books
Here is one that he did win, the occasion being the 1927 Railway Cup Final between Munster and Leinster of which it is said outclassed and outshone anything that Croke Park had seen previously and was talked about for long, long afterwards. Here is a descriptive passage from the period: “It was a struggle in which one can speak only in superlatives. The combined speed, accuracy and vigour exhibited were truly marvelous and in the closing stages it progressed rapidly to a crescendo of unforgettable hurling. Each individual player seemed to yield himself to some irresistible impulse that carried him to unapproachable heights of efficiency and exertion. It was truly an enthralling hurling exhibition won by Leinster in memorable fashion.” The score: Leinster, 1 – 11 Munster, 2 – 6. Fellow Limerickmen that contributed to the loosing Munster side on that memorable day were, Mick Murphy, (Goal) John Joe Kinnane, Micky Cross, and Willie Gleeson.

There were many other athletes in Croom and hereabouts that can lay claim to honour and glory on the sportsfield and rightly so, but none the equal of Garrett Howard. All you who aspire to `mastery of ashcraft` and take the cáman in the láimh could do worse than take a copy of the above `roll of honour` around in the pocket of the `tracksuit` - every now and again take it out and ask yourself the question – can I achieve one or more of these in my hurling career? Unfortunately, our experience in Croom in more than half a century of hurling is not encouraging.

Right: Garrett with his "Hall of Fame" award 1982



What would Garrett say if he were with us today? “Cheer up, we went very close - our lads were great – we beat Tipp didn’t we?
For my part , I feel privileged and humbled that on a bitterly cold spring evening by a chance encounter I find myself in the company of one of the all-time greats of hurling, who had won his first All Ireland medal all of 62 years before and he was here to see a Limerick second-string team in a fundraiser. Garrett Howard, you were a gallant sportsman, a Limerickman of high renown and without equal, we in your home parish of Croom salute you with pride.
Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam dhilis.
Is mise Cú an scriobh sin. Cóipcheart © 2007 -2009

Sweet Adare

Sweet Adare
Oh! sweet Adare, oh lovely vale!
Oh oft retreat of sylvan splendour
Nor summer sun, nor morning gale
E'er hailed a scene more softely tender.
Aubrey deVere

For this post I decided to liven things up and get away from the every-day cares of life and concentrate on a few pictures that are nice to look at and conjure up for me at any rate, a feeling of wellbeing whenever I visit the lovely village of Adare. This is not going to be a history lesson or anything like it but hopefully it will contain some little snippets of interest for some, who knock across this post on the web.
My introductory picture left is of the “usher” at Adare Manor; a most cordial and pleasant gentleman that one would ever wish to meet. I mention it here as my photograph belies his jovial and gregarious manner for all who make his acquaintenence.
My second picture below is a John Hinde postcard entitled: Desmond Castle on River Maigue, Adare, Co. Limerick, Ireland. John Hinde produced these postcards in the nineteen fifties and sixties when colour was just about to make its appearance on the postcard scene and one would have to say that the one reproduced here is very pleasing indeed.
The first thing to catch the eye is the three beautifully groomed young ladies who give this scene a heightened sense of colour and contrast. Did they just happen along being in the right place at the right time; or were they positioned here for the photograph? Are they sisters, as it would appear all three had the same hair stylist? The ruins of the old Desmond Castle are reflected in a still pool on the low waterline of the river; we can just about make out the outline of the castle; hidden as it is in a forest of vegetation. Is there a hint of autumn in the leaf colour? With conservation work being carried out on this old ruin in recent years, should you wish to capture this scene today, you would find it much changed and perhaps not quite as appealing as we see it here.
On the reverse of the card is carried the following information:
“DESMOND CASTLE, ADARE, CO. LIMERICK:
The wooded banks of the river Maigue close to the village of Adare provide many pleasing sylvan vistas, good fishing and historic sites. The Desmond Castle which was erected in the 13th century saw many a struggle for possession. Cromwell ordered its dismantling in 1657, but the estates remained in the possession of the Fitzgerald family until 1721 when they were purchased by the Quinn family, ancestors of the present owner, the Earl of Dunraven.”
The Fitzgeralds came to Ireland with the Anglo-Norman invasion of 1169 and the branch of the family referred to here came down the centuries as the Earls of Desmond – hence the Desmond Castle at Adare. And although Cromwell ordered its dismantling (a refined description for having it blown up) the Fitzgerald’s held on to the estates, which is no great surprise either as most Irish families of possessions hedged their bets when taking sides in any conflict; it being quite normal to find brothers in opposition in territorial wars. Cromwell came to Ireland with his army in 1649 and carried out a bloody war in the short time that he commanded his forces while on the field so to speak. And by all accounts he didn’t have it all his own way either, with O’Neill from the north giving him a bloody nose at Clonmel. His personal activities in Ireland lasted but nine months before returning to England, that being said, his influence in Ireland you could say is with us to the present day.
We see where the Quinn family purchased the estates; they were later to become the Earls of Dunraven, with the family seat being Adare Manor. Adare Manor (pictured right) and manor grounds are today an upmarket hotel and golf course; (President Clinton having an overnight stay here.) it being sold on to Irish/American interests. If you behave yourself, keep out of the way of greens, golfers, weddings, etc., and desire a look around the manor grounds and perhaps have a reasonably priced meal in the “Coach House Restaurant” (not the manor you will understand) then I feel certain you will be made welcome – I was.
I show in my third picture the manor house; the original house incorporated into the very impressive building that is now in evidence. What is unique about this building is a declaration in large carved lettering in stone, spanning the western facade,in recognition of the workers who built it.The engraving and preparation of the large blocks of stone had to be carried out in the workshop in advance of the construction of the great house and it is for this reason it is seen to have been an exceptional piece of engineering for the period. Some very nice carvings of heads, gargoyles, etc., all of which are the work of a local stone mason who had a workshop in the locality is a feature. To the right of the picture can be seen a large Cedar of Lebanon which is the subject of my fourth and last photograph for this post.
This picture (right) is a close-up of Cedrus libani, Cedar of Lebanon; it is stated to be the oldest specimen of its kind in Great Britain and Ireland. By any standards this is an impressive tree and I have been in the company of relatives from America who hugged this tree for an embarrassingly long time.
“The Hillier, Gardener’s Guide, to Trees and Shrubs,” inform us that it was introduced in c1645. When they say ‘introduced’ they mean to this part of the world; the specimen that we have at Adare manor is no doubt one of the first, if not thee first. If you have the good fortune to see this tree,(and if you’re interested in exceptional tree specimens then you should.) it might be no harm to keep in mind that it arrived here just about the same time as Cromwell!
The lovely village of Adare with its thatched cottages and quaint old-world appearance is congregated with leisurely strollers from home and abroad throughout the summer months. It has in the past been given the accolade of being Ireland’s Tidiest Town and although not repeated, it is not for the want of effort on the part of the hard working committee and local council that the ultimate prize has for the second time eluded them so far.
Adare and its hinterland is steeped in history, it is the territory of the poet Aubrey deVere; it is for G.A.A. fans the place of one of the greatest craftsmen to wield the camán in the persona of Mark Foley, and if you’re looking for a bit of “rhythmic trad” to raise the spirits, tune in to the melodious box of Adare’s own Derek Hickey. And finally, if you wish to party, look no further than the Fitzgerald, Woodlands House Hotel – they haven’t gone away you know!
This is Danny’s Quaint Ireland.
It is Cóipcheart ©Copyright Danny Quain, Cois Má 2008