Léargas

  Padraig MacLochlainn; Michelle O'Neill; Gina Grant; Gerry Adams; Aisling Nibbs Many, many years I heard Father Alec Reid say 'There is no blessing like the blessing of a healthy child'. When I first heard him say this I was under-impressed. It was such a patently obvious observation. Usually when he made this remark we would be in the company of a new baby or some boisterous youngster. Or youngsters. Full of energy and life and potential.  Then as I got older and met children with life limiting ailments and disabilities and their parents or carers I came to reflect on the Sagart's remarks.  Fr. Alec was right. There is no blessing like the blessing of a healthy child. Imagine having to cope with the heartbreak of a child with a terminal illness?  Or a child with profound disabilities?  This is the challenge facing many parents.  Terminal illness is perhaps the most difficult and emotional crisis to confront families. It is difficult enough if this is

Once upon a time I was in prison. Truth to tell I was in prison a few times. That experience stays with you. Even now I occasionally have the sense of being a lapsed prisoner. Though not in any serious way. I suppose I say that only because I think it is a funny thing to say. I don't seriously believe I could end up back in prison. But never say never. We live in a funny old world. Anyway prison never did me any harm. I met many interesting people there. Some of them were prisoners. Some were prison officers.   Some of the ones who were prisoners were Trusties. ODCs. Ordinary Decent Criminals. Jimmy was one of these. That's not his real name. The ODCs emptied the rubbish. Worked in the kitchen. Or the hospital.    The ODCs wouldn't have much truck with us anyway. Especially the ones from loyalist neighbourhoods. Jimmy was a loyalist. Or at least that was his background. How do I know that I hear you ask. He told me so himself. The Ordinary Decent Criminals didn't c

Thirty Years A Growing I didn't get to any Féile events this year. That's a first. Truth is I was too tired. Martin's death. Two elections. Two USA trips in July. Constituency duties in the Dáil and in Louth. Talks or what passed for talks at Stormont. It all takes time and effort.  So I decided to forgo Féile this year.  I missed a very wonderful series of events. I was particularly sore not to get to the RFJ's Plastic Bullet picket. Another first. But I followed it all on Twitter. Especially Clara Reilly. A mighty woman. Battling on. Never giving up. Emma Groves and Clara were never beaten. Never will be.  Féile is great. Taking a step back from it all is a very good way to appreciate how great it really is. So once again well done and thanks to Sam and Kevin and Angela and Harry Beag and all the women and men of the current brilliant, energetic and ever resourceful Féile team. That includes Ciaran Morrison who is leaving after 17 year of Féile adventures

The pub was empty. Except for me and the bartender. In this particular pub the bartender was a bean an tígh. She was a wise woman. She served me my pint with a cordial, indulgent and native generosity which underpinned her roots, her gender and her age. In other words she indulged me, knowing instinctively that I was after a quiet interlude.   'Bain sult as,' said she 'sláinte' as she retired to polish the shelves and wash glasses.   It was just me and her in silent harmony as I digested the sports pages and savoured the pundits' musings on the weekend's hurling treats and football results while sipping on a pint of plain. The sun shone blissfully and cheerfully through the pub windows    and smiled upon our little soirée. The pint was a work of art.    All was bliss.   It was then that two is company and three is a crowd became a reality. A tall gangly gent draped himself on the high stool beside me, ordered a drink and shattered the silence.   '

On Monday of this week the families and friends of Fran O’Toole, Tony Geraghty and Brian McCoy remembered their loved ones who were killed when members of the Glenanne Gang attacked the Miami Showband as they returned home from a successful gig in Banbridge on July 31 1975 outside Newry. The survivors have been fighting for justice ever since. Last Thursday, as part of the ongoing battle around truth and legacy, around 40 relatives were in a courtroom in Belfast to hear the outcome of a case taken by one of the families against the PSNI. Patrick Barnard aged 13 was one of four people killed in a bomb attack on the Hillcrest Bar in Dungannon in March 1976. It was one of scores of attacks carried out by the Glenanne Gang, which included in its ranks members of the British Army, the Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR), the RUC, and unionist paramilitaries. In what is a significant judgement the High Court concluded that the PSNI breached its human rights obligations by refusing to publish