Slán

George Thompson

Editor

Mathew’s Men’s Division I to take on Philippine National Team

Fr. Mathew’s has grown from its roots as a senior men’s, one team club based in Ballyphehane to become one of the most progressive and largest clubs in the country with membership now exceeding 200, catering for all ages groups from ‘nursery’ to underage and senior. This Sunday sees the clubs annual awards day at Rochestown Park Hotel and with it comes the announcement that the Men’s Division I team will take on Philippine National Team on Sunday August 26th at the Mardyke Arena and it is going to be a sell out as there is already a huge interest among the large Philippine population living in the Munster region. There will also be a huge Mathew’s following in attendance of this first ever match between a Mathew’s side and a senior International side. We will be providing regular updates on in the build-up to the big game so keep a close eye on Fr. Mathews club website and face book page. Go Mathews!

Roy Keane

Love him or loathe him you have to hand it to Roy Keane for keeping the Cork flag flying in tele-land as he builds his career being a pundit. While it is apparent Roy has the respect of his fellow former players and co pundits, I cringe sometimes when the broad Cork accent comes out but, all in all, fair dues to the Cork star. Like most stars in whichever walk of life, the charity work they undertake very often goes un-noticed however after 10 years doing his bit for the Guide Dogs, Roy has taken the Cork based service for the visually impaired, to another level with the ‘Shades’ campaign which take place every year and once more, this year is no exception…….it’s a great cause so please support it!

Slán

George Thompson

Editor

I went to Goleen West Cork for the long weekend. My daughter lives down there. She told me that Goleen Garda Station is closed. She passed it one day last week and noticed that a skip outside was filled with chairs, tables etc. I remarked “couldn’t they have given it to some local charity or good cause”. I suppose when one doesn’t pay for the furniture and contents, one doesn’t care where they go. I picked up a copy of the local Goleen Newsletter and discovered that (I cod you not!) there will be “a Garda Siochana Clinic” at the Coastguard office on Tuesday 8th May, Tuesday 15th May, Tuesday 22nd May and Tuesday 29th May for one hour. However unforeseen events may occur and prevent the Garda from turning up. In an emergency, ring Bantry”. Only a stone’s throw (if fired from a Howitzer!!) from Goleen. Last year I met an acquaintance of mine, a Garda Sergeant who was walking the beat. I asked him why he walked the beat alone. His response was “they get their exercise in the treadmill in the gym!!” Years ago in the early seventies, I ran a chip shop in St. Lukes and it was there I met Gardai on the beat. I hope they’re all well now – John ‘Brother’ Dwyer, Sean Dwyer, Pat Kenny, Mattie McGrath, Sylvie Murphy, Pat Sheehan. They all had one thing in common, they met people when they “walked the beat”. Finally on this subject, the Government has cut €25 million off Garda overtime. The same amount of money it cost to run the Bastion of Democracy, the Senate!!

There were two very good and informative articles in last Sunday’s Indo. The first was by Political Scientist Elaine Byrne; it concerns the attempt by the EU to get member states such as Ireland to introduce a small tax on the International Financial Services industry. Quite simply, they’re based in Dublin where they buy and sell money, in simple terms it’s a clearing house. The tax of, wait for it, 0.01% would bring in €500 million annually. Fine Gael T.D. Peter Matthews told us recently that a 5% tax increase on anybody earning over €120,000 annually would bring in €500 million, so add the two sums – €1 billion.

We laughed at Iceland a few years ago. What’s the difference between Iceland and Ireland? One letter and six months. Things have changed since Ireland guaranteed the Banks. Iceland let the banks go under, it protected the Icelandic peoples’ accounts and told the rest to “Go Whistle Dixie”. Unemployment in Iceland is 7%, in Ireland 14%. Healthcare and preschool education upwards is free. In Iceland the Prime Minister and a lot of bankers are going to Court to face charges (the Prime Minister was found guilty of one charge recently), and finally Iceland is expected to balance its Budget by 2014. Ireland? God only knows when. Who’s laughing at Iceland now?

I know that this sounds radical, but in Ireland now they have lie detectors – I’m not joking!!! Here’s a suggestion, give every aspiring Politician a test and if he/she fails, tell them to get a real job if they can find one!!! Until next time, if the Good Lord’s willing and the creeks don’t rise.

By Michael O’Hanlon.

We were both manic readers. My library of Enid Blyton books was bigger than hers. It was so big that several weeks passed before I realised that Ellen was quietly stealing them from under my nose. One afternoon when we were in Ellen’s house, she proudly showed off her newly extended collection. Impressed, I took down a book and looked through it. My name on the inside cover had been clumsily scrubbed out. I looked at Ellen and said, “But these are my books!” Ellen panicked and snatching the book back said, “No, they’re mine now.” I had to fight her for them.

I lived very close to the school and walked home every day for my lunch. On the way, I passed Ballingcurrig Stores, outside of which were several bubble gum and gob stopper machines. I discovered one day, by accident, that one of the machines was faulty i.e. that you could turn the handle and still get a bubble gum without putting in the penny first. I couldn’t believe my luck. I cherished my secret stash and modestly rationed myself to two bubble gums a day. I let Ellen in on the secret. The day I told her, I went home for lunch as usual and passed the bubble gum machine. The glass bubble was half full. I nodded kindly at it and thought ‘See you on the way back, my friend.’ But when I returned the machine was empty. I assumed I had been rumbled and that the shop keeper had removed the loot. Back at school I sought out Ellen and told her that sadly our supply of bubble gums was no longer. She winked at me and cackled, “No I have them.” She told me that she had ran home at lunch time, got a large shopping bag and cleared the machine all in one go. I was stunned. “Give me some”, I said. “No, she replied, “They’re mine now.”

When we were both seventeen, we went up on the train to Dublin for a one day shopping extravaganza. We were like Ivana Trump and Paris Hilton on speed: we managed to get into every single shop on Grafton and O’Connell Street. We didn’t buy anything because we had almost no money but that didn’t slacken our fervour. Ellen warned me at the outset that we weren’t wasting any time stopping for lunch. However, around mid-afternoon; I crumbled and told her that I could not go on unless we ate something. Ellen rolled her eyes and consented to stop for five minutes. We went into a large fast food place on O’Connell Street which thank God no longer exists. We sat down at a table. My legs were killing me. I said, “OK, I’ll go up. What do you want?” Ellen pulling out a tin of tuna and a bread roll from her vast hand bag said, “A can opener.” In our early twenties, we loved going to night clubs not for the men but to dance. We had no shame, the emptier the dance floor the better. Sometimes we wouldn’t be let in at the door. Ellen would assume her thickest country accent and whine, “But we’re all the way from Fermoy.” It worked every time. I was chief bridesmaid at her wedding. Ellen’s mother said we were a disgrace in my blood red dress and Ellen, head to toe in dangling pearls and a plunging backless dress. Cork couldn’t contain Ellen: she was outrageous. I miss her.