Cheltenham is over for another year. The good news is that J P Mcmanus is not broke, Mr O Leary (Ryanair) has the Gold Cup, and Mrs. Smith from England had her jewellery stolen from her hotel room. She and her husband owned that good horse Black Jack Ketchum, who won on the Friday. The horse was named after a great train robber in America so perhaps he has arrived back to relieve them of some of their goodies. I don’t think they are short of a few pounds as they own a small pad in Barbados worth thirty million. On the other side of the fence I admire those people who buy into National hunt racing as they invest in a sport where the return can be very small--Not like our brethren in the flat game.
Returning to my own finances only for Hairy Molly who won @33/1 the Tullybuckman would be on the lookout for Eddie Hobbs to put the wheels back on the wagon. Having lived in the Bermuda triangle (Redhills, Butlersbridge, and Ballyhaise) all my life I am quite familiar with the roll the postman played in the community in the early days. They were supplied with a bicycle which had to be returned to the local post office when the post was delivered. Usually their first port of call was the local for some porter to quench the thirst. Paddy Mackle was one such man. He and Jimmy were diccussining their days work when Paddy says --It that good porter Jimmy? It’s that good it’s a sin to give it to strangers? Have you been drinking with wee Paddy lately? I have and do you know for a small man he can hold a brave sup. “Hold it Mrs Kelly no smalls for me I said cut it out"
As they travelled along their daily tasks they were the Aertels and the Internets of to day. The had well known stops along their route and in some places a questions and answers session took place --lies and truth-- other houses the subject was sport football, horses and cockfights. The winters were severe in those days-Jimmy had no gloves but had a woollen sock for one hand to keep the cold out and an odd drop of the createur. Did you back the winner of the Lincoln Jimmy? Of curse i did sur he had only a stamp on his back (7 st.) Grand National day was the big event. Be on the lookout for the postman --He saw a paper in the village and the cartoon (curly wee). Was giving the tip E S B (the horse) -- two shillings each way was the bet
He carried a list of horses---- hurry up Max Mc Grath is on a half day and he is taking the train to Belturbet ---listen to the race on the wireless. Michael o Heiher was at the Melling Road --Peter o Sullivan was at Beechers Brook Esb won at 14/1--- hurry to mass the next day to see who had the winner--I had him =--I had the third --I had the first second and third says the bluffer.
All eyes on the post man for the payout next week. Sure you got your money as they were trustworthy people.
Some post men were given names such as Mickey the Bag. At a certain house he was forbid. To enter onto the premises When he had mail to deliver he was instructed to rattle the gate. One day he rattled the gate and after a few minutes the bossman arrived in his shirt --no trousers boots not tied - one half of the face was shaved and a ladder of soap on the other and all else hanging out. Gimme them letters quick I’m shaving to go to Cavan was the cry.
Mickey got such a shock that he had to sit down by the road side to recover.
Gerry was not a post man but worked on the council. His eyesight was not good and he drove a Volkswagen beetle car
He attended a Gaa match every Sunday. He had to rely on his friends to tell him who scored or missed. The reply was always this particular player whom Gerry did not like Well f............him was always the shout
On his journey to work in Cavan just before Christmas Gerry became entangled with the post man at Tractamotors junction. The postman was riding a Honda 50 The postbag opened and the mail was blown out to Ballinagh.
Gerry was a gentleman and I’m sure everything was fixed up in the interest of everybody
A postman who served this locality also rode a Honda 50 in his latter years. Such was his love of the blackstuff that on Christmas Eve he had to be chauffeured.
On his way home from work and the pub he fell off the Honda. People gathered around and thought it better to send for the priest Out from Cavan arrives Fr Gargan. Turn him ovar until I anoint him said the priest. Just at that point the postman breaks wind --Loud and clear. Well says the priest --He’s not dead yet.
There was a happy ending as he lived for many years after
To day the rural post offices are diminishing rapidly. The post man arrives in a van. Such is the area he has to cover he has no time to talk. If you live in a backward area you put a box at the road.
As the man who lived outside Ballyjamesduff said to me" There is no place for the small man living at the back of the hill"
To- day its racing pundit John Mc Crrirricks words---Email the female
Returning to my own finances only for Hairy Molly who won @33/1 the Tullybuckman would be on the lookout for Eddie Hobbs to put the wheels back on the wagon. Having lived in the Bermuda triangle (Redhills, Butlersbridge, and Ballyhaise) all my life I am quite familiar with the roll the postman played in the community in the early days. They were supplied with a bicycle which had to be returned to the local post office when the post was delivered. Usually their first port of call was the local for some porter to quench the thirst. Paddy Mackle was one such man. He and Jimmy were diccussining their days work when Paddy says --It that good porter Jimmy? It’s that good it’s a sin to give it to strangers? Have you been drinking with wee Paddy lately? I have and do you know for a small man he can hold a brave sup. “Hold it Mrs Kelly no smalls for me I said cut it out"
As they travelled along their daily tasks they were the Aertels and the Internets of to day. The had well known stops along their route and in some places a questions and answers session took place --lies and truth-- other houses the subject was sport football, horses and cockfights. The winters were severe in those days-Jimmy had no gloves but had a woollen sock for one hand to keep the cold out and an odd drop of the createur. Did you back the winner of the Lincoln Jimmy? Of curse i did sur he had only a stamp on his back (7 st.) Grand National day was the big event. Be on the lookout for the postman --He saw a paper in the village and the cartoon (curly wee). Was giving the tip E S B (the horse) -- two shillings each way was the bet
He carried a list of horses---- hurry up Max Mc Grath is on a half day and he is taking the train to Belturbet ---listen to the race on the wireless. Michael o Heiher was at the Melling Road --Peter o Sullivan was at Beechers Brook Esb won at 14/1--- hurry to mass the next day to see who had the winner--I had him =--I had the third --I had the first second and third says the bluffer.
All eyes on the post man for the payout next week. Sure you got your money as they were trustworthy people.
Some post men were given names such as Mickey the Bag. At a certain house he was forbid. To enter onto the premises When he had mail to deliver he was instructed to rattle the gate. One day he rattled the gate and after a few minutes the bossman arrived in his shirt --no trousers boots not tied - one half of the face was shaved and a ladder of soap on the other and all else hanging out. Gimme them letters quick I’m shaving to go to Cavan was the cry.
Mickey got such a shock that he had to sit down by the road side to recover.
Gerry was not a post man but worked on the council. His eyesight was not good and he drove a Volkswagen beetle car
He attended a Gaa match every Sunday. He had to rely on his friends to tell him who scored or missed. The reply was always this particular player whom Gerry did not like Well f............him was always the shout
On his journey to work in Cavan just before Christmas Gerry became entangled with the post man at Tractamotors junction. The postman was riding a Honda 50 The postbag opened and the mail was blown out to Ballinagh.
Gerry was a gentleman and I’m sure everything was fixed up in the interest of everybody
A postman who served this locality also rode a Honda 50 in his latter years. Such was his love of the blackstuff that on Christmas Eve he had to be chauffeured.
On his way home from work and the pub he fell off the Honda. People gathered around and thought it better to send for the priest Out from Cavan arrives Fr Gargan. Turn him ovar until I anoint him said the priest. Just at that point the postman breaks wind --Loud and clear. Well says the priest --He’s not dead yet.
There was a happy ending as he lived for many years after
To day the rural post offices are diminishing rapidly. The post man arrives in a van. Such is the area he has to cover he has no time to talk. If you live in a backward area you put a box at the road.
As the man who lived outside Ballyjamesduff said to me" There is no place for the small man living at the back of the hill"
To- day its racing pundit John Mc Crrirricks words---Email the female
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