by Peg Prendeville

Halloween is upon us and the young children are getting excited at the thought of dressing up and Trick or Treating. It is so different to our time but that is what time does. Changes with each generation.

I’ve just watched the programme on Virgin Media One about the hospital in Limerick and it is frightening. I do not know what the answer is but something needs to be done to ensure that patients get the best care. I know from experience that it can be chaotic in there. I feel sorry for the staff who  have to work in very stressful conditions.

Storm Ashley did not do too much damage locally I think though she blew lots of twigs and branches and lifted a sheet of rusty galvanize from my turf-shed. But no great harm was done thankfully. I was grateful to be indoors with a lovely fire and it brought to mind the following memory which I put in poetic form and which I have probably already put in this column but I hope I’ll be forgiven if I repost it.

Around the fire

Around the fire we sat each night

Chairs pulled together nice and tight

Dad made sure the turf was in

Mom sat knitting with a happy grin.

From a ball of wool in a wellington

A sock grew longer as the night went on.

The sound of the latch and in comes Mick

Tapping the flags with his blackthorn stick.

We make some room for another chair

Widening the circle gathered there.

Soon the stories would be told

Each one more daring, dark and bold.

Just when we thought we could take no more

Someone would stamp on the stone flagged floor.

The “Panny” mugs with the milky tea

Calmed the nerves and helped us see

That twas all in fun, no need to fear

We were all family gathered here.

Soon cousin JohnJoe would lilt a reel

And we young children danced toe to heel

And Mick tapped the flags with his blackthorn stick

And Mom would raise the oil-lamp wick.

Thus we passed the winter nights

In semi darkness, no strong lights

And all too soon it was time for bed

But not until the prayers were said.

Mom tucked us up in our feather beds

With images of fairies in our heads.

We knew we were safe from hurt or harm

Cuddled up tight, all snug and warm.

Following my piece on poets and composers last week, Peg kindly sent me this picture of Pat Brosnan, Mickey Liston and her father, Paddy Faley, three great poets of yesteryear. D. de Barra.