Ireland can’t quite make up its mind whether it’s 2004 or 1952.
I thought about this as I drove through Tipperary town this afternoon. The high street looks like a film set. The innocent gaudiness of the pub facias with their ancient adverts for Guinness and Smithwick’s and Harp, and the traditional butchers and bakers with their high counters and staff in white overalls, compete with internet cafés and estate agents struggling to cope with the property boom. Outside McGillicuddy’s Bar, an old man in a battered trilby and farmer’s jacket sat smoking a long-stemmed pipe. He must have escaped from the pages of The Mayor Of Casterbridge.
I found myself driving behind a hearse, and watched as the entire high street removed their caps and stood for a respectful moment of reflective silence.
At the end of the street I saw a sign for St John’s Famine Graveyard, and decided to make a detour to take a look. I find it hard to pass cemeteries and war memorials without stopping for a moment.
This graveyard was set on a peaceful hillside overlooking the town, and is filled with simple commemorative stones. No names are to be found. The plaque explains: This graveyard was opened in 1847 for the burial of those who died in the Tipperary Workhouse and Fever Hospital during the great famine. Their identity is known only to God.
It was a peaceful place of course, the only sound coming from a small manual lawnmower being pushed around by a workman. I went and had a word with him. His name was Sean, and he’d been cutting the grass here for 12 years. I asked him: “What do you think about as you cut the grass here?”
He laughed, wiped his brow, and said: “Guinness, of course”. Then after a pause, added, slightly more seriously: “Sure, what else is there to think about?”
A reasonable question, I thought.
An hour or so later, I came across this invitation as I drove through Limerick: Let Us Repair Your False Teeth While You Wait! Visit Mulligan’s World Of Dentures!
Somehow, I managed to resist the offer. My mind was elsewhere. And I’ll tell you where. It was on the only limerick that I could bring to mind.
I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.
