Omnibus – Blissful distraction

INâ€Ë†this 175th anniversary year, we occasional re-publish in this column extracts from Omnibuses of the past written by the late JPâ€Ë†Burke. The following was first published on June 22, 1991. BOOKSâ€Ë†of all kinds land on this desk from time to time â€â€ and sometimes I wish they wouldn't, because they distract my attention from more immediate things than skimming through the long-neglected pages of prose or poetry. This week I have a pair with a fine patina of age, hard bound in the sturdy materials of long ago, one of relatively modern vintage, the other a slim leather-covered book of poems by a man who never quite made the upper rankings.[private] By a strange twist, the first volume is literally that, a case bound edition of the St. James's Magazine published in London in the Roman year of MDCCCLXI by W. Kent and Co., Paternoster Row. What lends it special interest is that it bears an impressed stamp 'Herald Office, Tuam, May 1837', obviously a purchase by the founding editor, Richard J Kelly, who might have used it to extract items of interest for his readers. It took many a turn since then and came into my possession through the kindness of a friend, Michael Mullery of Abbeyknockmoy country, who takes a keen interest in local history and can tell an odd good story of fairs and markets in Tuam and his native place. The Fair of Abbey was a famous event, and the roads would be lined with pens of sheep from morning light to dark of evening, with farmers coming down from the mountainside and from as far away as Corofin and Turloughmore. There were three great taverns in the village, O'Donohoe's long thatched house at the end of the wide street, where as a very juvenile Boy Scout I drank lemonade in the kitchen. That was when we went badger hunting at Moyne with Dick Browne's little terriers, but we weren't environmentally aware at that stage of our youth. And that recalls too when we might take a walk to Gardenfield and watch the rabbits pop up under the monkey puzzles. The Kirwan estate at Gardenfield and the river path beside the Clare with its rock lined walls and deep pools hold memories for many people now long gone from their native place. But I must return to Abbey, where the fair often provided a jousting ground for young men and old with a few pints in them, and in the old days the peelers would walk from Tuam to support the men from the Barnaderg barracks. On the way out they might make a stop at Kate Gill's to see if there was any late drinking and maybe have a jorum themselves too. Sean O'Donohoe is the host at his father's and grandfather's pub nowadays but it's a more commodious place and a favourite watering hole for some sections of the drinking fraternity. There was another famous place there too, Bartley Synnott's, and he was a powerful man, an all round athlete who, I think, had a go at boxing too. Frank Mannion has that premises now, and his other interests include coach hire and a garage business. Across the road, well away from the others, was Treacy's, which had its own regulars but it looks forlorn now in the modernised village. Abbey holds one of our great architectural treasures, the monastic foundation where Cathal Mór of the Wine-Red Hand spent his declining years in penance for the excesses of his reign. Some renovation has been carried out but not enough, and I don't know what progress has been made on the preservation of the medieval frescoes, which unfortunately had been allowed to fall into almost indecipherable condition. Whenever I make a flying visit to that grand countryside, I recall the enchantment of Clarence Mangan's lines, 'I walked entranc'd through a land of morn The sun with wondrous excess of light Shone down and glanc'd o'er seas of corn And lustrous gardens left and right.' Poor Mangan, whose visits to foreign climes were more in the clouds of opium than reality, probably never saw the fair land of Connacht that he envisioned in his poem, but for one at least the Man in the Cloak left a lasting impression. There is a slight difference of opinion about the name Abbeyknockmoy, especially in its Gaelic form, and in truth it encompasses several townlands, notably Feigh in three or four divisions, Culliagh and Kilgarve, and I haven't got my map handy to solve the identity crisis. In the old days of street fairs and the last vestiges of faction fighting, it would matter a fair bit which side of the village you come from. Not any more, for recent events in Abbey have shown a unity of purpose in the opening of the new hurling pitch and fine clubrooms on the high ground at the butt of the hill. This is a notable achievement, and all the more praiseworthy in that it drew many strands of the community in concert, emphasizing that while Croke Park may be drawing in the big money, the heart of the GAA is in the rural areas where it had its foundation. â€â€ J P Burke[/private]