Come in out of the cold ya poor craythur!
Smoke from the fire and a kettle on the boil. The clock tick tocks. A lad sits at the counter. He dropped in “just for one” to his home away from home……
You know they don’t serve “coffee” so don’t even ask. This is where my Grandfather drank a pint of Guinness and a chaser of Rum and Blackcurrant. Where at closing time the doors were locked and himself and the Uncle adjourned to the widow’s kitchen. They cycled here the 6 miles resting their bikes against the lampost outside…..there was no need to lock them….and they cycled home again in the early hours of the morning.
Here you could buy biscuits and bacon while you sipped a hot whiskey. Here the kids waited for hours, bribed with Red Lemonade and packets of Tayto playing under the tables and in the dark back corridors. Here we spent our teenage years planning our imminent escape to join the revolutionaries of South America.
On a Saturday night you could watch the Late Late Show while the widow did her ironing, demanding hush with a pleading tone. The warm pints were lined up and took an age to settle, gathering in number as the evening progressed. Here is where on Sunday after Mass, the men stood against the wall in their suits and hats while the women went home to make the dinner.
I was passing Morrrissey’s of Abbeyleix, County Laois and shyly took a few snaps. It was exactly the same as I remember…….
Have a great Seachtain na Gaelige and a Happy Saint Patrick’s Day