‘You’re gonna be eating strange bread!’ said Minnie the Caddy, running her finger round the rim of the tea-cup. She was telling a fortune, in her little cottage up the flank of Slieve Martin, near Rostrevor.
The traffic was stopped in every direction, waiting for us .. or for the donkey. Everybody came up with ideas or gave a hand. Would that donkey put a foot on the wooden bridge? No. It was like Delaney’s donkey in that song.
Isn’t it amazing how expressive – how illustrative – indeed how thoroughly familiar are the old black-and-white photos of our childhood? The central figure in this poignant tableau is Ann Boyle of Castle Street. Her proud father Louis Boyle – Newry taxi-driver when there were no more than a half-dozen of them altogether – shows […]