there’s a lot of number1’s in there spittie ow about we go to two’s
it’s a little bit of two
a little bit of you
a little bit blue
and that could be our queue??
to bow out when we’re four
cos we ain’t got any more
yes I know we are select
but is this all we can do as best??
Good to see you all rolling along well lads, I’m back at the bench for a bit, couldn’t get out of doing a bit of work for an old friend, a Kerryman.
He put me in mind of this tale I heard in Kerry many years ago, This is how I remember it anyway.
Old Paddy Farrell had two dogs living with him in his little cottage way up in the Kerry Mountains, both dogs were getting on in years, they were both the same age and of the same litter and Paddy had won they from his nearest neighbour Mick Caffery in a card game above in Larkin’s pub.
Now one dog, called Con was deaf and the other fella called Don was blind, both were clearly on the way out God help them.
Mick called up to Paddy every Saturday night for a game of chess and a drop of the homemade crator Paddy was well known to distill, indeed (like meself:lol:) he had the arse worked offa himself between October and December every year satisfying the Christmas market. Paddy was worth a few bob but he never used banks and it was the mystery talking point of the Village as to where he kept it, anyone brave enough to ask him had he any relatives got a short answer “Mind yer own F……g business”
“Why don’t ya take them two animals out of their misery Paddy?” Mick asked him one night after lowering his third teacup of poteen, he continued “Sure the other three pups that were born along with them are all dead now, all your two lads do is lie by the fire taking up space”
Neither Con or Don had ever taken to Mick from the start, and as if they understood what he was saying about them the pair of dogs got to their feet and started to snarl and tear away at Mick’s feet. “Get them pair of bastards away from me Paddy!” But try as Paddy could he couldn’t get the dogs under control and Mick made a dash for the door and onto his bike away down the narrow rocky path home. He was just passing Gills Rock where the trail gets even narrower and borders a steep drop to a granite quarry below. He heard the howls of the two dogs who seemed to be gaining on him and he looked back, that was his last mistake, he went flying into the quarry, bike and all.
At his funeral the following Tuesday Mrs Mc Caffery was talking to Paddy and asked him how were his two old dogs. “Ah sure Mollie, the pair of them passed away in their sleep by the fireside last Saturday night.
That is a true story lads. I’ve been to Kerry many times and Kerryfolk are not known for telling lies.:-)
Ah Jem I do collect these obscures stories and catalogue them appropriately but I am a bit lost with this one - does it go under:
Irish myth
true legions
doggie stories
Kerry stories [cos they are different]
symbolism
exestentialism
or old uncle tom cobble and all stories??
OR JEm back on the puchine again!!
ALL ovvem,gumbud! It’s well-known that nobody spins one like an Oirishman,old bean…read ‘Puckoon’,by that well-known spelling mistake Spike Milligna-you’ll see the truth of that,mate A very well-written treatise into the workings of village society in deepest Eire,in the heady,pre-Euro days.
Me poor cousin Mary has to go back into hospital again, she had a new hip fitted two months ago and was just getting the hang of it when she got a letter from the health board, it said they are recalling all the hips numbered between 2564435-2565100 PGH. as the makers made a blunder and used biogradable plastic in the mix, there’s a chance of them biodegrading in the middle of her cha cha cha for example, so to be on the safe side it’s best to give them back and receive a new non biodegradable hip free of charge.
I knew they were going too far too fast with this green earth thing, stuff like this was bound to happen sooner or later, they are making newer quicker disolving biodegradable plastic now I believe, why only last January a mate of mine’s new plastic dentures disintegrated in his jaw while singing the last verse of ‘The old Bog Road’ up in the local, he was so embarrassed he never sang again, not that I’m complaining mind you.
And there was me thinking biodegradable was only for old bags.
God gave us the best we had but told us to watch our diet - careful with alcohol and keep fit - I remember it working for me for the first 35 yrs and then it deteriorated - making plastics is not Gods way surely?
That’s why I would have loved to be living in the 1930’s Gummy, not an atom of plastic in sight, there was of course ‘shallac’ and all the old records were shallac, not the same as the numerious plastics of today that seem to be choking the world. Come to think of it, when granny wound up the old singing box and stuck on a record ‘That old shallac magic had me in it’s spell’.
The comfortable living rooms where you were surrounded by natural furnishings, although I was not born yet but my granny’s parlour was still the same in the 1950’s as it was in the 30’s, the green velvet tablecloth with the golden tassels hanging down the sides, the two huge porceline dogs by the tall Connamara marble fireplace, the gleaming copper coal scuttle with the brass handle and the shiny lumps of coal therein, not like the crap moulded coal we get today, the tiger rug in front of the fire, listening to the granny’s ghost stories on a Winters night with the wind howling all around the house, especially when the granddad had beans for supper, oh such happy childhood memories.
Milk men collected the empty milk bottles early in the mornings and left the freash real milk on your doorstep, sometimes the gentle trottimg of his horses hooves on the conctete street would wake you up, he had a job for life and even the folks who washed the bottles and stabled the milk companies horses had good steady work. Same with the soft drinks and beer bottles used over and over again, then along came plastic and turned all our lives upside down.
Progress! do you call it progress when husband and wife now have to work to make ends meet? When you have to buy special biodegradable bags at inflated prices to get rid of the waste you used to give to the ‘slop man’ who was delighted to get it and it cost you nothing to give it, he fed it to his pigs, everything was recycled without making a song and dance about it, now it’s a multi billion pound racket.
To be eating food when you haven’t the slightest notion of where it comes from or how it’s processed, don’t forget when your kids are eating fish fingers and chicken balls that fish haven’t got any fingers and chickens haven’t any balls, do you know exactly what parts of the creatures you are giving them?
Oh don’t take me up wrong, I’m all for progress once it’s good for everyone and not just the minority of greedy fat cats, all it has done so far is send the majority backwards, no such thing as a steady job now for ordinary workers. 
Phew! that’s that off me chest says he.
I like to think the Slop Man was a cunning survivalist, not the scum of the earth.
I’m with Jem-I too, can remember the 'rag ‘n’ bone man arriving weekly, the proper glass milk bottles, plus having milk daily in [I think?] 1/3-pint bottles for every pupil at school-often with straws supplied. I also remember my mum darning and sewing, teaching me how to sew AND knit [although my version was ‘knit-one,pearl-one,drop one,try again’] plus that special treat of licking clean the mixing bowl when cakes were made-cooked in an old Rayburn,which was coal-fired. We used to go stand on the bridge over the single-track railway just near our remote little dwelling,making faces and rude signs at the drivers of the steam-trains that would pass under the little bridge [it was a tiny,winding little lane],then we’d leg it down onto the track and collect as much coal as we could [we were mere nippers] and take it home-where we’d get told off for going onto the track,then be given a special treat, like a cake,or a glass of pop. I was in a total of 71 various children’s homes,but the few times I was able to stay with my mum as a nipper,in between those establishments,some of which were fkn horrific,just made each time I was able to be with my mum SO valued…chopping logs,gathering various berries for making puds and pies at home,gathering firewood in the woods, gathering mushrooms,learning to swim in brooks and rivers…it all seemed so ‘everyday’ then-but even the thought of making a rope swing,to sway out over a river and let go at the highest point would make today’s youngsters shudder with disbelief that anyone would do so…or we’d gather flat bits of wood plus any pram wheels available and making a cart to go zooming down a hillside in/on,giggling like maniacs and loving every moment,or getting all the bits of wood together that you-and your gang-could find/steal/beg,to make a raft so we could ‘float’ [note the inverted commas] our way to…well…wherever we got to before we sank,really.
Yep-I legged it into the Merchant Navy once I turned 15…on my 15th birthday, actually…too many books,too much time with lots of books and no friends because I was ‘new boy’ in yet another establishment-as a result of which my general knowledge was waaaaay beyond the average boy my age-and I decided I wanted to actually SEE some of those places/people/wonders…and here I am 50 years later,degrees in three vastly differing subjects,been around the planet several times,driven trucks all over Europe/Russia, + Western Australia & Canada,served with 45 RMC,gained my Merchant Marine skippers ticket,played guitar with some really interesting-and often genuinely lovely-people,played drums for Mott the Hoople for one tour,held my newborn daughter in pellbound wonder,buried my daughter & grandson,written 26 ‘story books’ [yes,really]…and y’know what?..inside,I’m still that spellbound,adventurous,naughty,inquisitive lad of nearly 11 years old! Life was an adventure, then…
Puglet, the problem adventurous kids have (had), is that, they have to drag other kids along on the adventure, and, at the time, the Gang don’t recognise their time or place, or the favour they are being dealt. They just look back later, and reminisce, they have a lots to thank the likes of us for;-)
What a great post Pug, brought back some very happy memories to me of my own childhood, swimming in the river and diving off the canal bridge, making sling shots from branch forks and slices of old car tubes, all that free kids entertainment stuff that’s gone forever now.
Well done on your achievements Pug me lad, I always had a sneaky suspiction you were someone of note but your modesty overcame your pride and you kept it quiet, much to your credit.;-)
I enjoyed reading that look-back in time. Nobody was well off then but life was much more fulfilling.
Thanks,lads - I do apologise, if it seemed I was blowing my trumpet re any achievements…I really didn’t mean to sound that way. Given the choice of degrees in disparate subjects, or the chance to re-live seeing Chris Molloy [a childhood friend and accomplice] overbalance as he walked across the wall on the little single-track river bridge, miss the river completely, and land in that great big bunch of stinging nettles at the side, where he VERY loudly expostulated his feelings regarding nettles, as Click & I fell helplessly to the ground, weak from laughter - or to re-live the time Click,Chris and I all made stilts and [naturally] had a stilt-race alongside the railway track as the engine drivers threw lumps of coal at us…Jeepers…we were laughing and going like pistons trying to beat each other as small lumps of coal whizzed around us on our stilts! Or the time we all went swimming in the lake at the side of the mill…and as we were leaping around trying to drown each other, sans any clothing,swinging off the willow trees adjacent to the pond to see who could make the biggest splash,several girls from our year at school chose THAT very moment to turn up. Ohhh,yeah;we’d all been telling each other how well we fared with those girls-each of us was [according to our tales,anyway] ‘the real deal’ when it came to those girls-and suddenly, when we were caught naked and our clothes were right beside them,not ONE of us had the courage to climb out of that suddenly VERY chilly pond! Ok,we averaged 12-anna-half years old…but WHAT boy is ever going to admit to his friends that HE’S the only virgin in the gang,eh? Then catapults…ohhhh,yes,Jem. They were subject to real competition. Each of us busily making home-made catapults out of birch crutches and old bicycle inner tubes. Doesn’t seem much, does it;but all of us could-and did, at differing times-whack PC Vale’s hat off as he pedalled around keeping watch on us. We were chuffed to fu…er…jolly pleased,when his police hat suddenly went whizzing off his head,or if he had the chin band on,suddenly dropped over his eyes,as we legged it into deeper concealment,TRYING to giggle silently [it can’t be done] as we bombed off to the tree-house we’d built/made/chucked together,thinking for some reason PC Vale’d never think to look for us up a tree. [wrong] Actually,PC Vale was a good bloke-it was him who taught me about carp fishing,plus he let both Chris and myself try to ride his official police motorbike-a little Triumph Velocette. [we were rubbish,but that didn’t stop us boasting that we’d ridden a police motorcycle,once back at school]…we just ‘forgot’ to say it was at circa 5mph and only for 50 yards,on a muddy footpath beside a field and not in a wild chase after villains desperate to get away-although it may have come across that way…
Ahhh,memories. They make yesterday worth the effort of making it to today.
Thank you very much Newcomer, jump in anytime with some of your old memories, on this thread it’s a case of one word borrowing another or any old nonsense at all.;-)
I know all older generations say the times were better when they were young, but the fact is folks were more contented just having a steady job with a decent income, they could make plans for the family and look forward to a holiday once a year, I really have great sympathy for a young couple struggling to get a roof over their heads these days.
Getting back to old McCaffery and the two hounds chasing him down the mountain, Gummy you would be surprised how many people have a fear of dogs and cats, and they are often mistakingly taken to be animal haters, never knew what the fear of dogs and cats was called until I read this little bit.
‘A phobia of dogs (also called cynophobia) is one of the most common animal phobias, along with fear of snakes and spiders. However, unlike spiders and snakes which can usually be easily avoided, dogs can be found in almost any public space, making a fear of dogs particularly distressing and debilitating for sufferers.Jan 23, 2016’
It seems a lot of young folks these days suffer from Foephobia, the fear of making enemies, maybe that’s a good thing, could mean no more wars at long last.
Just try to imagine harmony and no more war
No Mothers crying as their boys walk out the door
Fine young men all in their prime
Fall like flies, their lives not worth a dime
No hearts broken as lovers part
The only ones safe are the Lordy old farts
Sitting in parliament calling the tunes
Withered old gits with faces like prunes.
yuck rice pudding or worst still semolina with too much cream and sugar in it
like some more nos stoolgers for supper gummy? yerk yerk take it away
yes I can play this game but just think about it - how much smarter and quicker would we be if our brains weren’t still cluttered with all these past memories - maybe its keeping them all wots bringin on the haltzeeers - maybe just maybe we are overloading the brain - why do we need to keep all this back log of events from the word dot just to recall it every 10 years or so to a few old foggies in a pub over a pint of beer? it’s gettin is nowhere - we should be takin on the challenges of each new day with which if we admit it we struggle with somtimes - well just well just maybe we got “memory clog” cos there;s too much ekkin in there!!
I think that Barbara Streisands song the way we were sums up my feeling on the matter:
“The Way We Were”
Mem’ries,
Light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures,
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were
Can it be that it was all so simple then?
Or has time re-written every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we? Could we?
Mem’ries, may be beautiful and yet
What’s too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it’s the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember…
The way we were…
The way we were…
yes I think the emphasis is on certain features:
where are memories found - in the corners of our minds - corners are often murky places covered in dust
Misty and water colored - not bright or clear how sad!
scattered pictures - flung around any old corner?
Can it be that it was all so simple then?
Or has time re-written every line? Ah a clue was it really all so simple or are we just fooling ourselves - well spotted barbra!
and another clue
Mem’ries, may be beautiful and yet
What’s too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
how much are we forgetting already because it’s too painful??
and the final coup de tere
So it’s the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember…
The way we were…
we only remember the laughter??
Now I do have a lot of time for old babs and I have been known to get a lump in the throat and a few tears on the cheek but who ever wrote that song had it down to a tee!
I don’t spend much time looking back, I tend to think about all the folks I am never going to meet, for example, I’ve just made a lovely pot of tea, and the thought occurred, who the feck is Russell Hobbs?
exactly!! looking back is a dangerous and debilitating habit that creates too much slipping and falling !!
Two Irishmen walk past a church and start to read the grave stones.
The first Irishman says, “Bloody hell - this fella was 182!”
“Oh yeah?” says the other. “What was his name?”
“Miles, from London.”
Blimey,you miserable bunch.
Ok-I crave your forgiveness for DARING to recall and share a few memories.
Obviously,my poor mind struggles as it’s apparently solid with the detritus of yesteryear-at which you lot have belittled and jeered-even though I so very rarely think about those times…I have very good reason not to.
Keep your site only for you,keep your WONDERFUL selves to the fore. Carry on admiring yourselves and ridiculing anyone who isn’t you.
ta ta.
