From a woman who has the cure for whooping cough to a website launch in Tullamore . . . the midlands have so much to offer
I WAS driving in a lonely part of Co Laois last week when I met a woman in wellingtons, and a man’s coat, following cattle on the roadway. I slowed down and opened the window and we had a great chat.
She said her maiden name and her married name were the same. “And if two people with the same name marry, and make brown bread,” she said, “then they will have the cure for the whooping cough.”
I said, “I once knew a man called Grey, who married a woman called White. Do you think that there might be cures associated with one colour marrying another?” By this stage we were getting on so well that I was worried her husband might come out of some gap in the ditch and ask me awkward questions.
The cattle were dripping dung, but the road was narrow and there was no point in stressing them by driving through, so I cruised beside the woman and we continued chatting. “My husband is in England,” she said, as if she were reading my mind. “That’s why I’m out trying to gather these cattle.” I said I was going to visit someone beyond Stradbally. “Stradbally’s a fine town,” she said.
I said, “I had a girlfriend who once worked in the stone yard in Stradbally, and one winter’s day many years ago I hitched from Dublin to visit her. She wanted me to bring her a flask to keep her soup warm while she was working.”
“And did you bring her the flask?” the woman of the cow herd asked.
“I did,” I said, “it was a red flask.”
“And did you hold on to the girl?”
“I did,” I said, “and I held on to the flask as well.”
“You must be from Cavan so,” she said.
I said, “How did you know that?” But the cattle were turning in the gate of a large farmyard, and she went after them, humming.
Later I dropped into the Court Hotel in Tullamore for the launch of midlandsireland.ie, a new brand and website for four counties, designed to attract tourists and industry to the region. Some young musicians in black played stringed instruments in the foyer and 200 guests, mostly men over 50 in grey suits and eating savouries, were waiting around for the speeches to begin.
The highlight of the evening was when the chairman of Cooley Distillery delivered an inspiring speech about how the midlands have wonderful products to sell, if only they could find innovative ways to promote the region, and sell their products globally.
It’s a far cry from the time when someone proposed a motion to the council that a gondola be purchased and put on the Royal Canal in Tullamore to attract tourists. And someone else seconded the motion saying, “Maybe we should get a pair of them, and start a breeding programme.”
At the buffet after the speeches I made a joke with a man in a suit. I said, “There’s so many people here wearing chains of office, I feel naked without some jewellery around my neck.” I was wearing two jumpers because I still have a touch of the cold. And although two jumpers can look cuddly on a young person, on someone my age they just look like a nervous breakdown.
The man in the suit chuckled and said, “you’re funny”, in a tone that suggested he didn’t find me funny at all.
The following day I saw more men in chains, in Mullingar Courthouse. There’s something humiliating about being handcuffed and then chained to another human being like an animal. But the young men in court didn’t seem to mind. They swaggered in, and kept a keen eye out for family members in the public gallery. One prisoner tried to talk to his girlfriend, but the guards told them to be quiet.
Outside, wives, girlfriends and mates sat around, drinking bottled water, smoking cigarettes and eating Magnum ice creams. I heard one woman wail for her son who was in danger of getting a custodial sentence.
“I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s sent down. He’s not well.” I asked her what was wrong with him. “Shingles,” she replied.
I happen to know someone in Kinnegad with the cure of shingles, but I said nothing because she didn’t look like a woman who believed in cures.