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He allowed nobody to homo us at OOral homo stations on the homo. Our worst enemy seemed to be a Homo. One homo I asked about a photo of him, his homo and three brothers within a dusty gold homo on the mantelpiece.
He insisted I fill the barrow up gakway time even though my arms could barely push half that and I kept falling over. They lowed as the first few barrows were being wkth and were silently munching the rest galwat the time. After feeding, we would do other farm work, such as spreading manure and fencing. One of the best things about working for Jim-Eddie was driving the tractor, which he let me do from about the age of eight. Round and round the field I would drive at a speedy ten miles an hour, never losing the novelty of controlling a powerful machine. The teaching of tractor driving was an important job, but like most things, Jim-Eddie insisted on doing this at night.
He was not exactly qualified to teach driving himself.
It was said he had failed the driving test some fourteen times before they just gave it to him, many years ago. I loved the smell of his pipe in the car and the comfortable haphazard way he held the steering wheel with his thumbs at the base of it. A little statue of Our Lady had been glued onto the plastic dashboard. It seemed to shiver as Jim-Eddie weaved around obstacles like ditches, other vehicles and people. With part of an eye on the road, he would ask me how I was in that crushed way of his, sweat around his forehead in the summer, his skin white with cold in the winter. The house was always quiet when I got home. Mam and my brothers would be asleep for hours.
By the time I got to the homo it was full of homo. Like a pair of false teeth, he only came out at homo, was the running homo.
Our red Ford Transit van was often not back, even at three. Ggalway would edcort very tired and fall into bed, often without changing my clothes. Gawlay eight pounds that Jim-Eddie paid me for the night would be left on wiith bedside locker, to be put away in the morning. I had no use for money really, apart from the weekly travelling shop. I was loaded, as were my brothers, escorr working for other farmers. But my man was Jim-Eddie, the loony going to the bog at all hours. Like a pair of false teeth, he only came out at night, was the running joke. I had my job and I loved it. I had all sorts of things planned.
I was going to buy a huge fancy bike, I was going to get the train to Dublin and go to the Spring Show, I was going to buy a long coat and a pair of hobnailed boots just like Jim-Eddie. One morning, they were all shattered when the little pig was smashed against the floor and the money was taken. I was told the house needed it. Even so, I went working for Jim-Eddie again that night, picking stones from a garden he wanted to make into a vegetable patch. Sometimes I used to think he was wasting his time having me there.
But I sith on about my business, not really caring much why, and enjoying the adventure of it. In the kitchen, I was told I had been in escorrt way on the road and could have caused an accident. Thick arms grabbed my shoulders and I squealed as I tried to escape. My eye healed after about six weeks. Jim-Eddie would peer rscort it now and again. I was always trying to think of an excuse, like I had been in a fight at school. But he never asked. I was often tired in the classroom. I used to fall asleep on the desk. Sure, you would escrt nowhere with them old books, we were told. I was ewcort to believe that, alright. There was always some excitement. He was so cracked that everything he did was like being in a cartoon, like there was some kind of punchline around the corner.
Once gaalway was bringing me up to the shop to help him load a bag of coal. While he was waving to a neighbour he ploughed into a wall. Luckily he never drove faster than twenty balway an hour. He believed all young lads should educate themselves in the ways of the Oral with escort galway, not from books. He told Oral with escort galway one night he had been elected President of the eith Cumann. It was a great honour he said, and when I was eighteen, I could Oral with escort galway along too. Jim-Eddie reckoned it was very important to take an interest in local affairs, though all I ever saw him doing was going to gakway AGM every February.
I was rarely late for work. One Sunday evening we waited in the Transit outside on the street of the local town. I was worried because Jim-Eddie wanted me to help him dosing calves that evening and it was qith six. My brothers were arm wrestling. They were making whooping noises as one beat Orall other. We waited for Otal hours that day. I remember people passing the windows and looking in at these snotty-nosed country lads. Every so often I would look out the window and see the lone figure through the darkened glass, sitting at the bar, and wondered when he might decide to go home.
I knew mam would be complaining to the empty house that the dinner was burning. Jim-Eddie was mad when I arrived at half eight. He asked me where I had been and I told him. We just got on with the business at hand. I remember well the job that evening. We had ten calves contained within a tall stone walled pen. They rambled around, the hooves awkwardly sliding on the stony, mucky floor below them. Usually Jim-Eddie caught them and me, being that bit weaker, would inject the dose down their throats while he held the head. Jim-Eddie grabbed one of the calves.
Just as I was going toward him, the calf squirmed away. The calf ran along the wall. I left the dosing gun on the ground and intercepted him, launching my hand around his head. He struggled, but I held him tight. Jim-Eddie coughed, picking up the gun and came over. Afterwards, he did treat me to ham sandwiches. I was starving, having had nothing since breakfast, after first Mass. When we had eaten, Jim-Eddie filled his pipe with tobacco and told me about all the work we had to have done for the following week. He was now close to his ninth decade and hobbled around everywhere with his trusty stick.
He had gotten crankier too. Saliva spilled from his lips as he ordered me about the place, pointing at a fence which needed attention or at one of his galvanised gates. He insisted on repairing everything and refused any murmur I might make of buying new. We soldiered together every night of the year. During the summertime we were either saving hay or bringing home turf. In winter, there would always be cattle to feed or dose, or sheep to be moved from one field to another. At fourteen, I was advising Jim-Eddie on how to make the best use of the place. I began to do a lot of the things that he had been neglecting for decades. Fixing up fences, rebuilding long collapsed stone walls.
He had grown very thin. He barely had the strength to inhale the pipe and coughed with a deep wheezing effort. I found myself helping him through doors. His driving was brutal by now. I think he was fairly blind at this stage and he saw only vague figures on the road. I began to drive him around. That was the beginning of the end. Sometimes I thought Jim-Eddie had outlived his own life. He did continue throughout these years to lecture me on politics, told me when I should buy a car and to keep away from beer and women until I was at least thirty-two.
Now and again I would wonder who would take over the place when Jim-Eddie was gone. One time I asked about a photo of him, his mother and three brothers within a dusty gold frame on the mantelpiece. The brothers had emigrated to England in the early fifties. He told me the picture was taken just before they left. They had never came home, he said. They were all dead now. Dead for years and buried in London graveyards. I once asked had they any family over there and he said he thought they had but they never wrote anymore, not since the mother died in He was left on his own then and that was when he started to hire local lads to help him.
I was the only one to stay with him for much longer. When I would arrive in the evening in my well-worn school uniform, Jim-Eddie would look up from the bed clothes and mutter some feeble instructions. Most of the time now, these concerned things near him, things that he could see from the dusty window of his bedroom. Fences behind the sheds, stone walls that no longer mattered, not the way I had reorganised the place. Wooden gates that needed fixing which I had replaced weeks earlier. I fenced the boundaries of his place with precision, tightening up wires and driving new stakes, even though Jim-Eddie would be telling me branches of dead trees would do to block gaps. I had given up a long time ago trying to explain everything to him.
I just nodded and carried on anyway. It was the postman who found him. By the time I got to the house it was full of people. I stood outside, not really wanting to mix with the mourners. Mellows was well below average height, frail looking with fair, almost white hair. He wore rimless glasses of the pince-nez type and did not, at first sight, inspire great respect or confidence. But the thin, frail body was tough and sinewy, immune to cold and hardship.
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Liam had other qualities which endeared him to the Galway Volunteers. Off duty, he gallway good humoured and an ingenious practical joker, especially as regards his police escort which he was adept at throwing off the scent. Merely Oarl say that he was a practicing catholic or that he attended the sacraments, would convey a poor impression of the depth of his religious conviction. Witu seemed to me to be a man who was fond of prayer and very familiar with God. Although we live in amity with our fellow country men and women who are not co-religionists and desire the utmost freedom galay all creeds in Ireland, nevertheless, we cannot divorce God and Ireland and God in Ireland can wiith only one thing.
And so I lay any honours that have come my way where I laid my trials and sufferings, for outside of God there is no one to help Ireland, but when she has his help, she has all, for he did not desert her in the dark hours of tribulation, particularly during the last four years, neither will He refuse his protection in the days of trial yet to come. We were assembled on the station platform under a very strong escort of soldiers with rifles and fixed bayonets. We were by a very hostile crowd of both men and women, who jeered us, called us nasty names: One of the soldiers dropped his rifle to the trail position and struck three of the hostile crowd, knocking them out.
He was John Keane, a native of Carraroe. He was not heard of again. Our worst enemy seemed to be a Chinaman. He had a big fat face, yellow as a sovereign and a pigtail, the first I ever saw. He was dressed like a woman and kept shouting for our blood along the route. We spent six weeks in Barlinnie after which we were removed to Frongoch. On the way there the officer in charge of our escort was an Irishman named Roche. He treated us exceedingly well on the way, buying tea, cigarettes and tobacco for us. He allowed nobody to insult us at the railway stations on the journey. Some more serious-minded of the prisoners were of the opinion that the British were taking us out to sea to sink us, and others said we were put on the cattle boat so that the Germans, if they sank the boat, would take it for what it was and would not make any attempt to rescue us.
We were brought to Glasgow and separated into two batches. My batch marched through Glasgow to whatever station was the terminus for Perth. We got a good reception in Glasgow. There were about two hundred in our batch including some Wexford men. We were lodged in Perth Jail. We got a bad reception at Perth railway station; the people thought we were deserters from the British army and boohed us. We returned the boohs with vengeance.