Petie had no memory of Road Bowls or ‘Bullets’ from the Thirties though County Armagh has a strong tradition in this field of sport.
Crossroads Dances
Year: 2005
Crossmaglen 1838
The Ordnance Survey Reviews of times long ago make interesting reading, from time to time. Compare Crossmaglen today with that depicted below!
Drowned in the Locks
There was a husband and wife one time lived down along the Fathom Line near till the Locks there where the ships would put in.
Anyway didn’t they have the tarribl’ fallin’-out one day, so bad that yer man said he wanted till end it all and throw he’sself into the Canal across the way.
Ghostly Horse Rides Again
I earlier mentioned that the life and fortunes of Dostoyevsky – and one of my own line – was ruined from gambling. This is a tale of a Planter of these parts who ruined himself from the same addiction.
William Fivey of Lisnabrague Lodge, near Poyntzpass owned land both there and at Killycomain (near Portadown). The Ordnance Survey Report for 1837 shows that he leased land in parcels of 3-15 acres at 25s-28s per acre for the former location and at 10-20 acres at 20s-40s an acre at the latter. He was a very wealthy man and also had a lime kiln and several mills.
However he was a profligate gambler and owned several racehorses. Over a period of time he experienced much ill-luck and soon was in dire financial straits. He decided to gamble everything on one final fling.
He owned one particular racehorse in which he had undying faith. He prepared and trained it well and entered it for a race he felt certain it must win. He gambled all the money he had left in the world on the outcome.
It lost. Fivey in fury took the horse home and stabled it. Then he had the stable door bricked up and the horse starved to death.
By 1850 Fivey was forced to sell all his horses and his furniture to meet gambling debts. In the end he had to let Union Lodge to a Doctor Saunderson.
To this day a ghostly horse is said to gallop up the avenue on moonlit nights from time to time. There are those who would deliberately avoid the area then.
Iraq of Old
Fallujah in Iraq has just suffered the fate of Grozny in Chechnia – bombed and razed and uncounted thousands of its inhabitants slaughtered in a vain effort to ‘restore order’. Now it’s the turn of Mosul and still no end in sight!
We sometimes forget that this was the cradle of civilization. I read the following moral tale today and thought I would share it.
‘In ancient Baghdad there was a rich and powerful merchant with many servants but one he trusted with special tasks. One day he sent this servant to the market place on an errand. When he came to the market place this servant saw Death standing there and Death gave him a strange look. The servant was greatly afraid and ran back to the master’s house where he told the other servants what he had seen.
‘He has come for me,’ he said. ‘But I will take my master’s fastest steed and ride like the wind to Samarra. I will be there by nightfall and Death will never find me there.’
The other servants went and told the master. He was very angry. He strode off to the market place and Death was still there.
‘What do you mean by giving my servant such a strange look and frightening him?’ he demanded.
‘I was merely surprised to see him, that’s all,’ Death replied.
‘You see, I am to meet him this night in Samarra’.
Many continue to meet Death this and every night in Samarra, Fallujah and Baghdad. Margaret Hassan, we learn now, has already been brutally executed.
We celebrate the release of Annetta Flanigan and her two companions in Afghanistan, whatever the circumstances of their release.
Do You Remember?
A bucket on the stove boiling all the whites
The big tin bath on Saturday nights
An old glass washboard, an outside loo
Distemper on the walls, cardboard in your shoe?
Lino on the floor, a scullery out the back
A coin in the meter, coalbrick, coke and slack?
Keys in the lock, door on the latch
Long, hot summers, ponies and traps?
Blackleaded range, mansion red tiles
Rag men, bone men and men who sharpened knives?
Ardglass herrings, buttermilk and snuff
Sore heads, stomach aches, tripe and onion stuff.
Sennapods, virol, castor oil and malt
A poultice for sore throats made of hot salt
A half-moon waterwark like a front-door mat
Soda farls, wheaten farls, cooling on the rack.
Sheets made from flour bags, winding-up clocks,
Suspenders for men, holding up their socks.
Crombie hats, paddyhats, corner shop small
Horse-drawn hearses with black plumes tall.
Gas mantles, lamplighters, billycans of tae
Walking home from dances, courting on the way.
Fish an’ chips in newspapers, a pennyworth of jam
A pound of broken biscuits, a trolleybus and tram.
Donkey’s hoof, pinade, crocks and beetles too
Rinso, Vim and soapflakes, newspaper in the loo.
Carbolic soap, Brylcreem, seven o’clock blades
Sugar and water potion making permanent waves.
Ale plants growing in a big sweet jar
Food safe with wire mesh in every back yard.
Hotspur and Rover, Dandy, Beano too
A 3d matinee or a jampot in lieu.
A refund on bottle, brown paper bags
Five Willie Woodbine or sharing a fag.
Hoops and cleeks and guiders, parries, whips and all
Skipping songs, marble, pitch and toss, handball.
Top 20 from Luxembourg, Desert Island Discs
Henry Hall’s guest night, rock ‘n’roll and twist.
Billy Cotton’s Band Show, a book at bedtime too
The list is never-ending – but who was ‘skiboo’?
Yuletide Customs
Just to keep you on the right side this Yuletide, remember NOT to
take down the Christmas decorations before Jan 6th (the 12th day)
put up a New Year’s calendar before Jan 1st