“All wrapped up the same
Silence has it
Arrogance has it
I can have it ooh
Until I learn to accept my reward
Suddenly it struck me very clear
Suddenly it struck me very clean
All wrapped up the same”
Julian Cope
Sometimes my philosophy of never saying no to new adventures takes me to places I’d never have chosen, left to my own devices. Neither Boherygeela, Mother Mac’s, nor the Barack Obama Plaza, which is in Tipperary, would have figured in the top of my list for…well, anything really, and certainly not the day before our annual Not Dead Yet Dinner.
But last Friday I found myself, with Tiny Ray, travelling to Limerick for the Pride of Place Awards. We’d been nominated as part of our group, ‘Friends of Rossmore Park’ by Monaghan County Council in the Creative Communities category. As we were going that far, Ray suggested that we go to The Hogan Stand pub so that he could canvas opinion for the Vintners Federation.
“It’s just outside Limerick.” He said confidently.
I typed it into the satnav.
“Boherygeela ???”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“It says it’s 35 minutes from Limerick.”
“Grand. Sure none of these award things ever start on time.”
“OK, but don’t be long.”
“10 minutes….”
I fell asleep in the car after 20 minutes and Ray woke me sometime later.
“Chop , chop Sleepyhead ! We’re late, they’re ringing me saying dinner is starting soon.”
“Who’s ringing you ?”
“Patricia and Nichola, from the Council, they say that they’ve all been in the lobby at the Champagne reception for 30 minutes.”
“I hope you said that you made us late canvassing.”
“Yeah, yeah something like that…”
We arrived at the hotel 35 minutes later and made our way past a crowd of finely dressed ladies and gentlemen making their way down to dinner. We checked in, changed, and ran down the stairs because we couldn’t wait for the lift, and arrived at our table, last, and just in time for some guy to murder the ballad ‘Limerick You’re A Lady’ to open the proceedings. Several people at my table asked me if I was ‘OK ?’ and I said yes, of course. One of them then told me that Ray had told them that we were late because I was so nervous on the way down that we had to pull over twice as he thought I was going to get sick.
The Monaghan table comprised of Darren and Therese, members of Carrickroe Community Development, Andrew and , from Carrickmacross Tidy Towns, Nichola and Patricia from Monaghan County Council, and the irrepressible Roisin, Gwen and Johnny from Doohamlet Community Centre. After a wee while of conversation, and assurances that I was ‘feeling better’, we all seemed to have connections other than simply all being from Monaghan. I’d met Andrew many times before through our involvement with our respective Coder dojos. Roisin reminded me that I’d given a talk on business of all things in Doohamlet 8 or more years ago, and given everyone little bags of Haribo. And I knew that I recognised Darren from somewhere, and then realised that he’d DJ’d at events I’d been helping at with Foroige and out in the Park over the years. His partner Therese asked if my wife was a ‘blondy lady’ and when I confirmed that she was, she said she’d met her a number of times with the Monaghan Town Voucher scheme. I told her that my closest connection to Carrickroe, other than the wonderful dream catcher , Brandy, was Grainne, my Soulmate’s fellow running gazelle. I told them that I’m getting overly confident in my running, my Soulmate takes me for a run with Grainne, and that she always “softens your cough “.
Anyway award events can be exciting, nervous, exhilarating, joyful, and humbling. The Pride of Place Awards were all of those things. It was a pleasure and a privilege to see Darren and Therese win the Runners Up prize in the Small Communities category. It clearly meant a lot to them, and it was well deserved.
We’d only calmed down a little when our table exploded in euphoria as Gwen, Roisin and Johnny won the national ‘Well Being In The Community‘ award. They were thrilled skinny. And their phones pinged for the rest of the evening as messages from home flooded their phones. They could have powered Limerick itself with their radiant smiles.
It was a great evening for Monaghan.
After the awards, and before the dancing, Ray and I sloped off to visit Mother Macs…yes, another pub. But what a bar ! It’s been a pub for over 150 years, and is now being run by a chap called James. Ray introduced himself, and I sampled the Murphys. James joined us and we had a great chat. He gave us Mother Macs beanies on our departure.
When we got back to the hotel proceedings were winding down. I got to sit with Johnny from Doohamlet for a while. He’s a retired gentleman, and simply loves being part of his community and helping out. He commiserated with me for not winning an award and I said to him.
“That’s not why we do it, is it Johnny ?”
“No. That’s true.”
I asked him what he got out of it, the community work, and he simply said “Much, much more than I put in.” And I smiled and shook his hand. Nailed it.
Ray and I had breakfast the next day in The Old Quarter…yes another pub where some more canvassing did indeed take place, but at least this time I was having a fine fry at the same time. We left Limerick a good two hours later than I’d planned. My friend Ronan was staying with us for the weekend and was due at 4pm, and then we were heading out to meet a dozen other classmates from 40 years ago at our Not Dead Yet Dinner.
So I was under pressure.
But Ray wanted to see the Barack Obama Plaza, so we did.
For my Yankee readers/listeners , there is a very large petrol station/food emporium/rest area just off the M7 motorway between Limerick and Dublin named after your last decent President, which features a small museum dedicated to him and his wife, who , please God, might be your next decent President, and an array of fried chicken, pizzas, coffee, sandwiches, and a brass statue that we only spotted when we were leaving, and Ray insisted that we go back and take a selfie with…which we did.
I arrived home shortly after 4pm to find Ronan in our kitchen chatting away to our Jake. Ronan got up and gave me a big hug and then asked :
“Where’s the award Big Fella ?”
“Didn’t get one.”
“Bastards !”
We laughed and then I went up to have a recuperating bath and then get ready.
This is the 4th year of our Not Dead Yet Dinner. It had all started after I’d had my chemo and operations and Ronan said he wanted to come home for a visit from that London , but wanted to wait until I was well enough to join him on his Rioja & Guinness bender.
“Would Micky join us ?”
“Wild horses wouldn’t keep him away !”
And so I booked a table of three for Saturday at 8 in The Squealing Pig.
“Do you ever see Milo ?”
“Regularly.”
“Would he come ?”
“Sure I’ll ask.”
And so I booked a table of four for Saturday at 8 in The Squealing Pig.
“It’d be nice to see Kennedy.”
“I’ll ask.”
And so I booked a table of five for Saturday at 8 in The Squealing Pig.
“What about Fintan ?”
“O’Donnell or Hamill ?”
“Both !”
“I’ll ask.”
I got a ‘yes’ and a ‘ ah shit, my wife’s away to Chicago that weekend.’
And so I booked a table of six for Saturday at 8 in The Squealing Pig.
“Doesn’t David live near you ?”
“Yes, and I bumped into Sean.”
“I hope you asked him.”
“Of course.”
And so I booked a table of eight for Saturday at 8 in The Squealing Pig.
“Do you know who I haven’t seen since we left school ?”
“Who ?”
“Cyril. Is anyone in touch with him ?”
“Well I am , but he lives in France now.”
“Mention it to him anyway , in case he fancies a visit home.”
And so I booked a table for nine for Saturday at 8 in The Squealing Pig.
Anyway, that’s how it started, three years ago. Our group fluctuates between that original 9 and 19. Some people travel from England, France, and this year from the US. It’s an informal gathering of classmates from St.Macartan’s College who all left the school in 1984.
David, Sean, Ronan, Micky and I have been to all four of them, Fintan, Milo , Cyril, John, other John, and other Sean have been to three and I think everyone else has been to two. This year had looked like it was going to be 16, but double leg breaks, elderly parent care, and pneumonia took their toll in the last few days, yes, we’re that age, so 12 of us turned up.
James travelled all the way from California, and I hadn’t seen him in 31 years, and Paul came from Baltinglass and I hadn’t seen him since 1984. And yet as soon as they walked in I knew them both immediately. Heartfelt hugs were exchanged. Our 7pm rendezvous was fully attended by 8pm, so we moved upstairs in The Pig for dinner.
We sat at a table for 12, so initial conversations are centred on the folks to your left, or right and directly across from you. Again it’s an odd thing, but even though of the people I was sitting closest to, Fintan, Seamus whom I meet regularly, but separately, the conversation is always different, because we all have had another year’s lived experience and some new recollections, or just the simple dynamic of sitting in that little group , instead of it being David, or Sean , or John instead…if that makes sense. Anyway, it was all wonderfully jumbled , new and garrulous because Paul sat close to us.
After we’ve had our desserts we swap around, informally, and mostly prompted by the shuffling of chairs as people take a toilet break. The combination of our pints consumption and age meant that there was regular shuffling. I took the opportunity to sit at the opposite end of the table and got chatting to James, David, Owen, and Sean. There is a pattern to these encounters that after the initial standard catch up questions regarding parental mortality, marital status, kids, number of, ages, we then just start chatting.
And yet it’s much , much more than that. Over these past few short years with these annual meet ups classmates have apologised to others for bullying, they have been forgiven, people have thanked others for a kindness that the person being thanked hadn’t even realised they’d done. Some people have walked up and down outside the pub in the rain working up the courage to meet old friends, not sure of their reception and started to walk away, but thankfully turn back. This group of people knew you before you knew yourself. And still love you. There is great comradery, there is great craic. And there are moments of confidences shared. Everyone is themselves and are admired for it.
David Bowie’s quote on aging could be our motto :
“Aging is this extraordinary process where you become the person you always should have been.”
And then it’s 2.00 am and we realise that we are the last people in the place, but we’re still a group of 12. No one wanted to leave. That says it all.
In the few days since a few of the guys have been in touch to say that they thoroughly enjoy the night and already look forward to the next one. One or two say very deep and kind things. I get thanked for putting it all together.
It’s really no bother at all.
And as I type those last words and think about why I do it, I can see Johnny from Doohamlet sitting in the Limerick Strand Hotel, leaning back in his chair, arms folded, almost hugging himself and saying “Much, much more than I put in.”
Dead right Johnny, dead right.
Toodles,
Paul
P.S. This weeks song, Reward, by the once wonderful Teardrop Explodes , is dedicated to the Pride of Place Award judges who suffered from temporary blindness, deafness, and short term memory loss after their visit to Rossmore Park earlier this year.
P.P.S. This is the audio of an old blog, called ‘When I Grow Old’
