Its Thursday 23 August 2012,as miserable and as wintry an evening as you could imagine.On top of which I am coming down with something so my mood matches the weather.
Anyhow 1947 was a fierce bad year weather wise.It rained incessantly and all around here was flooded.My uncles told me that the Clady river burst its banks and Mrs King' house which was beside the river at the extremity of the Curragh boreen was swamped and her life was saved by my uncle Tommy who carried her on his back as far as Seamin Herbert's house,where the flood waters ended.
It rises in the bog at Tullaghanstown and it also burst its banks there.There was 2 to 3 feet of water on the road at the cross and it took a brave man to wade through.
The story goes that a tramp was making his way from Athboy to Navan through the cross when he met a local."Excuse me sir,is this a seaport town " he smirked.The reply directed him to "ask me gateaux"or words to that effect.
Fast forward to the present day.The O.P.W.is mending a bridge over the same river on my land in Meadstown.And let me say that four more decent,competent and pleasant men you could not meet in a long week's walk.These men are never unplugged.
Anyhow the water is at most two feet deep where they are working.There is a sign up saying "DeepWater"with a lifebuoy attached.I understand they are lucky not to be forced to wear life jackets.
Health and Safety reasons seemingly.
How prophetic was that tramp in 1947 and would anyone wonder why this over regulated country and continent is fecked.This is the law,com padre.
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