Heart Beat: Whatever happened to you my friend, whatever happened to me, what became of the people we used to be? - The Likely Lads
Several things contributed to this outburst of nostalgia. I recently attended a 50th anniversary reunion of my leaving year class from Blackrock College. Approximately half of our 110-strong class attended, many having travelled long distances to do so. Twenty-three of our classmates are dead and we were unable to contact another 20, some of whom may have also passed on.
Amidst the celebrations and the routine viewing of the past through highly selective retrospection, this was a sobering thought. We are now, like it or not, in the firing line; He is picking them out of our barrel now. It is probably best dealt with by simply not entertaining it. It is not merely, as William Dunbar put it 500 years ago, a matter of Timor mortis conturbat me.
Amidst the rejoicing there was some sadness and realisation of the ephemeral nature of things. We had won the Leinster Schools' Senior Cup that year of 1955, part of five in a row, and as I recollect we didn't even have a sports psychologist. There were happy and good things to remember among us, many of whom had not met in the intervening period. It was humbling to pray together and dine together in the place where we had been so happy and carefree and to compare the passage of our lives.
This is a grey afternoon in Holy Week and it has been raining steadily for several hours. The clouds envelop uplands of the hills and mountains and wreaths of mist explore the valleys. The landscape and the seascape cover all shades of grey. It is extraordinarily quiet here in Dooks, Co Kerry, compared to Dublin. In truth it is quiet compared to anywhere else. If you go past our house, you go into the water as we are the last habitation on this little road.
Upon our arrival here the other day as I opened up the house as usual I was taken aback and almost overpowered by the feeling of things past. This was triggered by the stillness and by walking through the children's rooms. There was total quiet and order everywhere, the only occupant being Paddington Bear who sat forlornly on one of the beds in the girls' room. The contrast with the chaos, noise and sheer exuberance of former years was overwhelming. Our children had magic summers and holidays here, and formed firm friendships still strong today. The magic of this wonderful place enveloped them as it had their parents and without exception they love to return.
There were never enough hours then to accomplish what must be done - swimming, boating, golf, hill walking, etc. The weather was always perfect and the hours passed more quickly here than anywhere else. The time passed too quickly and the young grew up. To the above-mentioned wholesome pursuits was added the capacity for indulging in mayhem and enjoying same. Late nights, ignored when possible by parents, late breakfasts, often with waves of previously unseen humanity, became the rule. I even suspect that some of my children may have had a drink. I am conscious that this was an unworthy suspicion but I suspect that many parents may have shared it.
The idyllic periods were interrupted by the harsh intrusions of the real world. School and examinations, college and examinations, pressed forward relentlessly. Then came the awful realisation that the long summers, Easters, Christmases were things of the past. Ironically they existed now for the parents whose sojourns in Hy Brasil became more frequent.
All our young adults come back whenever they can and at times it is almost as if they never left. It is however rare now to have them all together and we miss that. At least we tell each other that we do. They take up a lot more room now and although disguising it well they feel they should be nice to the two old fossils who pass for parents. Easter approaches and we wish they were all here.
There is a bright side. We save on eggs.
Recently I heard some excuse being made for a toddling grandson on the basis that he was in the period known as the terrible twos. We are all familiar with tweens and teenagers and their special problems. On the male parental side of this equation I am beginning to be oppressed by the notion that in fact children can be expected to be at their worst between 40 and 50. This feeling that we ain't seen nothing yet is, I am sure, unduly pessimistic and our lot still have some time to prove me wrong.
On arrival here on this occasion it was pointed out to me that several disturbing portents had been noted, the meaning of which was unclear. A blue moon had been noted on the 17th and again on the 20th and pigs had been seen to fly around it. The meaning of these omens was unclear. On consulting Nostradamus I think they alluded to the fact that an obscure Dublin school had won the Leinster Schools' rugby double and that such frightening manifestations were unlikely to recur. Hence the saying "once in a blue moon". Nostradamus also mentioned that this school had produced a brilliant rugby-playing athlete called O'Reilly, and some fellow called Joyce who wrote arcane books. I realised with a start that I had some friends who had actually attended this place, including my best man. I would like to reassure them that their secret is safe with me.
• Maurice Neligan is a cardiac surgeon.