“There are places I’ll remember
All my life, though some have changed.
Some forever, not for better;
Some have gone and some remain.
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall.
Some are dead and some are living,
In my life I’ve loved them all.”
Lennon
I collected my friend Ronan off the bus just after 7pm on Friday night. He was home from London for our third annual ‘Not Dead Yet Dinner’ the following evening in The Pig. He’d said that he fancied a Chinese takeaway for tea. The Monaghan – Chinese takeaways are not like other Chinese takeaways in so far as I doubt that anyone from China would recognise anything on the menu. We ordered sweet and sour chicken with fried rice, a portion of chips, beef in black bean sauce with fried rice, and chips, a portion of chicken balls, and another portion of chicken balls just to be on the safe side.
7pm on a Friday night in Monaghan is rush hour in the takeaway business, so we were told that the order would take 30 minutes. The lady gave us this information with the expectation that we would cancel it and go somewhere else. We were delighted, as it meant we could go to McKenna’s and have a pint while we waited. We were the only two customers , so the service was excellent, as were the pints. The pints were so good in fact that we were sorry that we didn’t have to wait an hour on the takeaway.
We collected our order and went home and filled the kitchen table with various dishes, tubs, plates, and started to eat.
“Aren’t you waiting for the others ?” My Soulmate asked.
“Others ?” I replied.
“That’s not all for just the two of you is it ???”
Ronan’s cheeky guilty look implied it was.
My Soulmate left us and our guilt left with her.
We tried a little of everything. Then some more of everything, and finally a lot of everything. Chairs were pushed back from the table , feet were stretched out , and belts were loosened.
There was still a lot left. After we chatted for a bit, I said we should go into the sitting room where the fire was blazing. I started to put the remnants of our meals into the bag they’d come in.
“What are you doing fella ?”
“Putting this in the bin.”
“The bin ??? Put it in the fridge !”
“Will you seriously eat it tomorrow ?”
“Yes !”
I put half the beef in black bean sauce, a quarter of the sweet and sour chicken , three tablespoons of fried rice and a solitary chicken ball in the fridge. Ronan was still looking at me with great disappointment.
We sat in with Eileen beside the fire and played with a beer, dozed off and decided that we should go to bed.
“I’m leaving the house at 8am to set up for Parkrun in the morning , if you fancy joining me ?” I said, knowing that Ronan likes a good walk on a Saturday.
“No.”
I arrived home after Parkrun to find him and Eileen chatting away at the kitchen table.
“Anyone for a fry ?”
“YES !” they both replied “We’re starving !”
“I thought you were going to have that leftover Chinese for breakfast Ronan ?”
“I’ll have it later.”
“We’re going out for dinner later !”
“And ?”
I made a fry. We Had Mallons Big 10 sausages, Mallons GF turkey sausages, Clonakilty GF black and white pudding, maple cured bacon, fried eggs, fried bread, and several cups of tea.
There were burps.
“Don’t forget , we’re running in Bragan in half an hour.” My Soulmate reminded me.
“What ?”
“That hill training you said you’d do with me today ?”
“But Ronan’s here ?”
“I’m happy to walk around there when you’re running.” Ronan said VERY unhelpfully.
“Oh now you can walk ?” I snarked.
“C’mon, chop , chop.” My Soulmate said , smiling.
We drove to Bragan. I burped the whole way. Regretting having eaten 4 of the Mallons Big 10s. We parked and started to jog uphill, leaving Ronan to saunter after us. After jogging uphill for all of 150 metres, I thought that I was having a heart attack. I could hear blood pumping in my ears, in time with the sound of my feet dragging along the path. Eileen skipped ahead. This became the pattern for our run. We’d get to a flat piece, I’d catch my breath and then go through notions of a heart attack, flat bit , catch my breath, run downhill in a dangerously uncoordinated and freewheel manner going “Wheeeeeeee !”, then heart attack notions…and so on.
We passed some ramblers.
“You’re doing great guys !” They shouted encouragingly.
I stopped, Eileen ran on.
“See that lady there ?”
They nodded, still getting over the shock that the slow , wobbly jogger that they’d only been polite too, was now rambling with them.
“She told me that there was an ice-cream parlour at the top.”
They laughed nervously.
“There wasn’t ! And it’s no laughing matter !”
The ramblers were decidedly wary now.
“I’m just telling you this in case you hear a scream in a few minutes. You’ll know what the cause of it was.” I tipped my nose with my finger and winked at them. “ Cheers now !” And I ran off to catch up with Eileen.
When I caught up with her she asked who they were.
“No idea.” I said “Funny lot though, very serious looking.”
We eventually made it to the car… and Eileen then made me run 500m past it and back to bring us up to 8k. And yet I still love her.
We drove around to collect Ronan and drove to Mum and Dad’s for a cup of tea, and then went home. I lit a fire again and we had more mugs of tea, and we had great plans to watch the rugby for the afternoon.
“You know, I think I might go up and have a snooze for a wee bit. “ Ronan suggested sheepishly.
“Brilliant !” I fancied a long soak in the bath and Eileen wouldn’t let me, as she though it would be rude.”
“Win win !”
Ronan went for a sleep. I went for a bath…and also fell asleep.
We got ourselves together at 6, had more mugs of tea, and then Eileen left us in to The Pig, where we were due to meet 14 of our school friends from the Leaving Cert’ class of ’84.
This year we had a Fintan, a Ronan, a Brendan, two Seans, a David, a Mark, two Johns, a Cyril, a Seamus, a Milo, two Michaels, and me. The Shane sent an apology.
One flew in from Portugal, two from France, one from London, and then all points in Ireland, including, but not limited to Loughbrickland, Threemilehouse, Scotstown, Dundalk, Bettystown, that Dublin, and Monaghan, which is, and always will be , The True Centre Of The Universe.
This was the third ‘Not Dead Yet Dinner. The first was initially supposed to be just Ronan , Micky and myself, a celebration of the fact that we were all still alive. It ended up being 9 of us. Last year it grew a little, to 19, mostly out of curiosity., this year it was 15, due to familiarity.
So everyone sitting there at the table had been to at least one of the dinners before, and most had been to all. It meant that there were no awkward introductions, explanations, apologies or absolutions. We just nattered away as if we’d all only met yesterday.
There were lots of laughs, mostly at each others expense. Anyone’s visit to the loo induced a chaotic Madhatter’s Tea Party ‘let’s all move one place up’ shuffle which seemed to mean different things to different people. But random conversations are always the best, and by 11 or so we’d all had a chance for a few one on one conversations, and more than one group recollection which then in turn sparked others.
A mention of the school tour to Moscow and Leningrad in 2nd year led to an opportunity to slag Milo about his never-ending Eagles fandom. When we were on the overnight train from Leningrad to Moscow a group of us were in a carriage and were singing Simon & Garfunkel songs when a teacher , Joe Cool, popped in with a guitar and started to sing along. He played American Pie, Stairway to Heaven and then Milo asked if he knew anything by The Eagles and was crushed when Joe said “Never heard of them.”
This prompted Fintan to mention the time he’d bumped into him in Paris many, many years later. Joe had taught us French for a year at some point, and when Fintan saw him immediately said “Monsieur Cool ! Comment ça va ? Qu’est-ce que tu fais a Paris ?”
Joe just looked at him and said “What ?”
Some of us had memories that no one else recalled, or recalled differently. Some sympathy was expressed towards the teachers that had to deal with us. Some were remembered very fondly.
Some of us had bumped into each other randomly many years after school and some of those stories were then shared with the wider group. Milo remembered going on his honeymoon, 10 years or so after we’d left and checking into his hotel in Barbados heard a shout of “My God ! Milo Murray !”, it was Sean Scott who hadn’t seen him in 10 years and was also checking into the same hotel on his honeymoon.
Fintan and I told stories of nights out in Dublin when we pretended to be student doctors from St.James, were regulars in Leeson St., and were very partial to a Monaghan cocktail from the Bursted Sofa in Clones called a Barney McElroy. This of course asked for a description, which was Cork Dry Gin, Martini, and a bitter lemon mixer in a tall glass, lots of ice. This , obviously led in turn to an order for a round of them. And then another.
People started to drift off after midnight. Hugs and promises of meet ups were exchanged.
Before we knew where we were the last 5 of us were having one for the road at 3.30am
We went home after that.
Ronan and I sat in our kitchen.
“Fancy a beer ?”
“Do you know I’d quite fancy that Chinese from yesterday that’s in the fridge.”
“OK, but there’s hardly any rice.”
“Have you any bread ?”
“Yes.”
“Cool ! Chinese sandwiches !”
So Ronan and I rounded off the night with a glass of Rioja and two of the nicest sandwiches we swore we’d ever had.
I may have mentioned once or twice in the past how lucky I am with the people I know. The bunch of boys I went to school with are some of the finest scoundrels I’ve ever met in my whole life. It continues to be an honour and a giddy privilege to spend time in their company.
Before I go I must mention that the very next day I had a fantastic couple of hours back in The Pig with my two actual brothers John and Stephen, and our other ‘What did we do in a former life to deserve him’ brother Stephen , also known affectionately as Mc Cann, or less affectionately as Macca. It was our Stephen’s birthday, and John hadn’t had a drink in forever. It was good to catch up, and even better to do it drinking coffee !
And then I got confirmation of funding towards a book about our Drumlin Giants !
And then I met Freddie for lunch , and he gave me my first Christmas card of the year, and then Northern Sound rang looking for an interview about a volunteer award thing, I missed the call. Jodie left a message saying she’d like to interview me. I called the number back.
“Shannonside. How can I help you ?”
“I’m returning Jodie’s call.”
“Ah, that’s Northern Sound, you’re through to Shannonside, you need to ring 047…”
“…72666. Yes, that’s what I called.”
“They’re not answering so, they must have it diverted here.”
“Can I leave a message with you for them , saying I called ?”
“No. Sure they’re not answering, they have it diverted here.”
And then I got to go for a 10k run around Rossmore with Ray, and …
My Dad said why do you not save some of these great things for the weeks when you’ve nothing to write about. I simply said that something wonderful happens every week.
And if it doesn’t ….did I ever tell you about the time my Granda met Johnny Cash in Clontibret ?
Toodles ,
Paul
P.S. This is Johnny Cash singing “In My Life”, for all of you.
P.P.S This is the of the night my Granda met Johnny Cash met Johnny Cash.
It was raining sideways, as usual in Clontibret , as Frank McKenna made his way slowly towards Monaghan and the promise of a pint in McCarrens. The windscreen wipers on his Ford Anglia had lost their enthusiasm ,and their fuse, back in Annyalla and Frank was now driving with one hand on the steering wheel while his right hand was tugging his bootlace which was now threaded through the open window , onto the windscreen where he’d tied it to the wiper.
He was driving past St.Mary’s church when the headlights started to flicker and then gave out altogether, along with the engine. He drifted the car into the verge and cursed his luck…however he did this very quietly and self consciously as he was still within the shadow of the church.
Although not renowned for his devotion , he , like many a decent God -botherer, found perfect recall of saintly prayers in times of need. Unfortunately, or fortunately, for Frank he now recalled two prayers perfectly, the prayer to St.Jude, patron saint of hopeless causes, and the prayer to St. Christopher the patron saint of travelers. He was still debating which was most relevant when there was a tap at the window. He jumped out of his skin and roared ‘Holy Mother of God !’ as he stared out the window at a figure clad in black.
He wound down his window, saying with relief “ That’s great service altogether Father, I hadn’t even started praying !”.
“Father ? Are you OK Sir ?” the stranger asked, in a deep Southern American drawl.
“A Yankee priest ? I’m doubly blest.” Frank smiled and blessed himself.
“I’m neither a priest nor a Yankee, and not sure which I find the most offensive. I only stopped to see if you were in need of assistance.”
“Indeed.” Frank said, still smiling.” And why would you be dressed all in black fancy clothes then ? Funeral , is it ?”
“No Sir. It’s just how I roll.” The non-Yankee stranger replied. He was also smiling now, in the rain, as Franks’s smiles were always infectious and had the reputation of getting him out of many a scrape.
Frank extended his hand out the car window in greeting “Frank Sally, pleased to meet you.”
“ Johnny Cash , pleased to meet you too Frank. Can I offer you a lift somewhere ? “
“Indeed you can Johnny” Frank said as he opened the car door and wound the window up and then climbed out. “ I’m heading into town for a pint in McCarren’s. And I’d be honoured to return your kindness with another.”
“That’s very kind of you Sir.” And the two men got into Johnny’s car , a four cylinder Ford Zephyr and headed up the road to Monaghan. As soon as the car roared into life , Frank smiled “This is one of them ‘streak of lightnin’ cars, isn’t it ?” Frank was full of questions and they continued at a rapid pace.
Where are you from? What are you doing here? Are you really a priest ? What do you do ? Do you have any family here ? Are you sure you’re not a priest ?
Mr.Cash patiently answered each question in turn , Arkansas, roaming, no, musician, no, and yes I’m sure I’m not a priest.
“Well it’s very confusing you wearing black fancy clothes head to toe and doing mighty fine in your streak of lightning car. Wait ! I’ve got it. You’re a minister ! Which is it , Church of Ireland, Presbyterian or one of those funny pretend ones from up the North ?”
“Listen Frank, I just happen to like black. I’m not a reverend, priest, minister, rector, or anything to do with any church, OK ?”
“You’re not the Other Fella’s lot are you ?”
“Who ‘s the ‘Other Fellow’ ?”
“You know, horns, pointy tail…very good at cards.”
Johnny laughed “ No, that’s not me either…although I do have my moments.”
“Have you ever been to New York , Johnny ?”
“Many times Frank, many, many times.”
“My sister Annie lives there ! Have you met her ? She lives in the Bronx !
“No Frank, it’s a big place.”
“Oh” Frank was a little disappointed by this, but perked up as they drove into town , passing the cathedral and seeing the lights of McCarren’s. “ You can park there “ he pointed to a spot just beside the front door. ”Come on in .”
The two men rushed the short distance to the front door to get away from the rain. Frank entered first and was greeted like the long lost friend and valued customer that he was.
“Frank ! Great to see you.” Pat , the bar man said as he immediately started to pour a pint of Guinness. He stopped as quickly as he’d started when he spotted Johnny coming in behind Frank.
“OUT Priest !” Pat bellowed. Johnny froze on the spot. Frank interjected “He’s with me Pat, and he’d…”
That was far as he got “ Out the pair of you then ! You’re barred Frank ! OUT !”
Frank turned sadly and motioned to Johnny that they were leaving. They went outside and hurried back to the car. “Sorry about that Johnny, but there’s no talking to Pat when he’s taken a notion. And he’s convinced you’re a priest.”
“Why won’t he allow priests in ?”
“He say’s they’re bad for business.” They both laughed.
“So where can a body get a drink in this one horse town ?”
“Well Johnny, I don’t believe we have a horse, but we are blessed with fifty seven public houses, of which I am welcome in fifty five, sorry, fifty four, thanks to you. Let’s go up Dublin Street there and I’ll introduce you to everyone in McKenna’s, we might even get a tune out of you.”
They entered McKenna’s and were greeted warmly and with the sound of Irish traditional music being played by a bunch of happy chaps in the far corner. The barman nodded his greeting and started pouring two pints without being asked. As the two visitors pulled up their barstools he placed two Powers in front of them with a little jug of water. Frank poured a little water in his, lifted it and waited for Johnny to raise his, and when he did, clinked his glass and said “Here’s to your health Johnny !”
“And to yours Frank!”
Seamus the barman, topped off their pints and placed them beside their whiskeys. “ Evening Frank . Evening Father”.
The two men laughed. “He’s not a priest Seamus, he’s a musician from Arkansas.”
“Arkansas, you say ? That’s mighty. Would he play us a tune ?” Seamus asked.
“He’d be delighted !” Frank answered “ Can he borrow a fiddle ?”
“I don’t play the fiddle Frank.” Johnny answered.
“Seriously ?” Frank looked confused “ I thought you said you were a musician. What is it the box ? No don’t tell me, the tin whistle ? Sure that’s a toy, not a musical instrument !”
“I play the rhythm guitar.”
“And what in the name of St. Jude and St. Christopher is a rhythm guitar ?”
Johnny hopped off his stool and went outside to his car and came back a moment later with large black guitar case. He opened it dramatically on the bar and took out his prized Martin guitar. Frank looked a little disgruntled, Johnny just smiled and asked Seamus “May I ?”
Seamus got the folk musicians to hush for a minute and Johnny Cash stood on the bar in McKenna’s on Dublin St. Monaghan before a crowd of twenty two decent drinking men and launched into ‘I Walk The Line’. Nearly everyone clapped along and stomped their feet. Everyone except Frank. Johnny finished to raucous applause. Seamus leaned over the bar to Frank and said “I know who he is now, I heard that song on the wireless last week. He’s a big star in America.” Frank remained decidedly unimpressed.
Johnny was helped off the bar and stood in front of Frank, who still had his arms folded. “Well ?” he asked.
“I hope you have a trade to fall back on, that rubbish will never last.” Then he turned to Seamus and said sarcastically “Another round for me and the ‘Musician’.”
“Man you’re a tough one to please.” Johnny said , he looked crestfallen.
Frank shouted over to the folk band “ Gimme a lend of that fiddle for a minute.” The fiddle was handed over and made a pretence of tuning it a little before he picked up the bow and launched into a foot stomping tune. It took Johnny a few moments to realise that Frank was playing ‘I Walk The Line’. He roared out the words along with Frank fiddling the tune. By the time they finished the whole bar was singing along to the chorus.
Frank handed the fiddle back and then placed his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “ You should learn to lighten up a little, my friend, and not be so quick to doubt yourself. I recognised you before I’d wound down the window in Clontibret.”
After that they learnt a lot about each other. Frank told Johnny everything about his tiny farm in Dernaseill , three fields and forty shades of green between them, and everything that every blade of grass meant to him. Johnny told him in turn tales of the road.
They had a royal time. So royal in fact that it went on long, long into the night and early morning. Songs were swapped , compliments paid ,and kegs emptied.
Frank and Johnny never met again.
This happened almost twenty years before I was born. I was Frank’s first grandchild and he doted on me. Although we both lived in Dundalk we were regular visitors to Monaghan whilst I was between the ages of 1 and 4, before I’d started school. All of Granda’s family and friends lived in Monaghan and he would take me to visit with him in dozens of farmhouses, and the odd public house or two along the way. He’d often hum a tune and sing quietly one verse, over and over:
“Well , we’re doin’ mighty fine I do suppose,
In our streak of lighnin’ cars and fancy clothes.”
I didn’t know what it was at the time. It’s a verse from Johnny Cash’s song “Man In Black”. I smile when I hear it now.
I like stories.
I’m not fussy if they’re true.
I hope you liked this one.
Johnny Cash played in London on the 25th September 1959, travelled alone to Ireland for four days of roaming around before flying out from Shannon airport to Dallas , where he appeared on October 3rd in the Sportatorium and played “Forty Shades of Green” for the very first time.
Frank ‘Sally’ McKenna was barred from McCarren’s, Old Cross Square, Monaghan in September 1959 in the company of an unknown Yankee priest. My Granda didn’t keep the company of priests, Yankee or non-Yankee.
