“The Two Loves of Gabriel Foley”
The Acorn Players will perform their hilarious comedy “The Two Loves of Gabriel Foley” in Aughawillan Hall on Sunday, 7th April. Doors open at 7.30pm and show starts sharp at 8.30pm. Proceeds in aid of Aughawillan G.A.A. club. Admission: Adults €10. Children and Students €5.
Sympathy to the Hewson families of Stralohan, Aughawillan and Ballymagirl, Templeport and to the Kells and Finley families of Ballyheady, Ballyconnell on the recent death of Ivan Kells whose remains were interred in St. Peter’s Cemetery, Templeport on last Wednesday week.
Sympathy to Gerry O’Haire, Lekcan, Aughawillan on the death of his brother, Brendan whose remains were interred on March 4th. May they both Rest in Peace.
March Whist Winners
Madge Fleming won Top Score at the March Whist. 1st Gent was Mary Maguire, 2nd Joan O’Reilly and 3rd John Young. 1st Lady was Gladys Turner, 2nd Kathleen McCabe and 3rd Betty Rasdale. Winner of Best Half time score was kay Dolan. Other winners including Raffle were Pat Stringer, Eileen Donohoe, Con O’Gorman, Adrian Spotten and Con O’Gorman again.
Making Good Friday Even better
As the penny said when it got stuck in the slot long ago, “Money is getting tight these days” and for small rural clubs like the local G.F.C, there is a continuous struggle where finances are concerned. On this coming Friday night, the annual Easter Poker Classic will be held in Aughawillan Hall with as Marty “Daz” Whelan and co on Winning Streak used to say, “Life changing prizes” available. All players will be welcome on the night while refreshments will be available.
All Those Celebrations
When lads like us were in our teens in the 1960s, there was no such thing as “Mother’s Day” or “Father’s Day” when you wined and dined Daddy or Mammy in a local restaurant-cum-pub. The simple reason as you may have already twigged was that we never had a bob in our pockets at all, at all. Then along came the common market, now EU with its cheques from Germany, France etc and the business fraternity, sensing that for the first time in their lives there was a jingle in the pockets of the clobs from the country, somehow managed to come up with the idea of the mother’s and father’s day mentioned above and it became a hit followed by further hits with “single payments”, REPs etc being added to the postal donations from Europe.
Since the slump of mid 2008 arrived, multitides of workers became redudant. The current year 2013 is different insofar as that Mother’s Day fell on Sunday March 10th just a week before Paddy’s AKA St. Patrick’s Day. On Mother’s Day, the local corr remarked how mothers were treated to “four-course meals” no less by sons and daughters who had been reduced to Job Seeker benefits, etc of €158 approximately because they did not wish their mammies to feel inferior to the mothers of the trendy whizz kid types. Because of the short duration between Mother’s and Paddy’s Day, pubs which would normally be “packed to the rafters” as drama promoters would exaggeratedly say in the aftermath of a succesful play in a local hall, were according to accounts, sparesely populated on the day and night of the “wearing of the green” simply because most of the money had been expended on the Sunday before.
Anyway, when it comes to Paddy’s Day, it is always more of the same with such predictability as bands, floats, etc in local towns. That same predictability reminds one of being at a wedding reception in a hotel where there is the usual “toast to the bride” etc with all legs standing up and all hands extending their arms so far as to clink the wine glasses in the direction of as many as possible but only in the immediate vicinity. Then there is also the predictable speech from the groom which invariably thanking the bride’s father and mother for allowing him access to their lovely daughter and maybe like the Hollywood marriages, the sweetness between them had turned sour after maybe a fortnight or three weeks of so-called “connubial felicity” providing a “scoop” for the tabloid press. Luckily, the same press do not indulge in naming failed ordinary Irish couples’ marriages names bacause if they did, they could double their pages but halve their relationship on account of unwanted publicity by private minded people against the Hollywood “set” for whom to quote a line from Roscommon composer, Percy French, “it’s all a load of show and sham” but they enjoy the hype and novelty of the so-called “fresh pickings” nonetheless.
What’s New Pussycat?
Since we last sent local notes we had the election of a Pope following a day of the caption, “Pope Nope” accompanied by a photo of black smoke rising from the Vatican chimney in one of the tabloids. Just 24 hours later, there was the heading “A Pope for the poor” with a snapshot of white smoke heading Heavenwards from the same outlet. One began to get optimistic about the aforementioned Pope for the poor bringing the P.U.F and others like our skint selves back into solvency after all the years of paying into the “Peter’s Pence” aka Pope’s Collections in Sunday morning Roman Cadillac Churches. In their innocence, the older Irish folk feared that if they didn’t pay to such collections, the “fairies” would whisk them away from their beds in the dead of night and deposit them in “Ring Forts” for all eternity. Now the burning (pardon the pun) question is why they continue to elect Popes who are long past pension age. The “original of the species” as the Britvic ad on TV used to go was the one and only Lord God Almighty himself who according to Biblical readings was crucified between a pair of thieves on a Friday afternoon 2,000 plus 13 years ago. The so-called good thief and bad thief at the mere tender age of 33 years. Imagine having a present Pope of such vintage and sharp-mindedness; he would be able to suss out the bad thieves which allgedly exist in the Vatican or could we say “Fat-can” Bank before focussing his attention on such good thieves as we have here in Ireland. Then we could all live happily ever after as fairytale endings go. But as the line from the lovely song, Isle of Inisfree goes, “Dreams are dreams and dreams are not forgotten” and for ordinary clodhoppers in Ireland, it would be “back to stern reality” as the same song goes.