a cara......today in toronto we baked under a very hot 34.2 summer sun....the city motioned a heat alert....as this long hot summer still sizzles this ontario city......i spent my day laying asphalt.and frying under the burning black gold.....until at last i retired to my 40th.floor air conditioned suite......as i allowed myself to unwind.....i gazed over the citys southerly boundary .... lake ontario.....sail boats....speckled the pseudo blue waters in white garland......these sails bobbed and weaved like floating gulls......and as i watched i noticed an eerie fog like mist drape the horrizon ....and spread across the lake.....diminishing my lofty view.....as usually from my perch on a clear night ....i can see the lights of rochester new york flicker in the distance......and as this haze took grip.....my mind began to wander to another lake and community......baille mo croid......castlebar.......i began to think back on the the early post ww2 days.......i thought of a time i was travelling to keel ......with a brother in an old 5cwt. fordson vanwith a cargo of bacon ....sausages....black and white puddings meats....and cases of canary island tomatoes.....we were headed to the achill area......to sell the wares......our first stop was sweeneys of achill sound who was a regular buyer of our meats....not far was lavelles pub who also bought some goods.....here we stopped for some refreshment....my brother had a pint of liffey juice.....and i had to settle for a poor second althiugh at the time it was noveau mineral......cantrell and cochranes......clud cola.....the girl behind the bar poured it into a stout glass....and low and behold it frothed and headed like a glass of the liffey....i drank it with skill and class....as if i was wetting my gills in the liffeys finest....it was so magical it deserved a chaser.....so i had two.....later we headed for the amethyst hotel in keel ...here we encountered a character that was to stay in my memory for a thousand years ....ted veasy.....he owned the local dance hall.....and as it happened was looking for a band to play a sunday night gig......i heard someone say ....i laid a finger on the sax myself ...and i get get a band together no problem.......mooch maloney was hired as cabbie.....and a group of the chancers headed off for keel that sunday evening ....never to arrive ....ac sin sceal eile.....getting back to my original sceil.....we travelled every village of achill ....from keel to doogort....and back to points beyond........we drove over those mountains.....and i was captivated by keem strand ....and the minnaune ......here the terrible beauty that is mayo seared my soul....returning back we stopped at the great southern hotel in mulranny.....chambers in newport......until home.......in those days the train trail was a very visible part of the journry from newport to achil......and the magnificent sandstone arched bridges fastened the landscape as much as the the rock of gibralter....spearheads the entry to the mediteranean......in those days the old villages i achill were still habitated......and we were lulled by the melodic gutteral dulcet tones of gaelic......where it was spoken with pride and fluency.....driving home from there those carefree...lazy ...hazy days of summer...another binding picture was ever present.....men in the fields......saving the hay.....the richness of the perfumes were intoxicating......farmers and neighbours.....harvesting the cut golden meadows......dusty old farmer out working the fields.......hanging down over your tractor wheels...the sun beatn' down turns the red paint to orange.....and rusty old patches of steel...straw hats and old dirty hankies....moppin'a face like a shoe.....thanks for the meal....here's a song that is real.....from a kid from the city to you......

those fields were filled with men....and women.....and wooden rakes and pitch forks.....it was magical to see them turn the hay and rake it in to cocks....mice .....corncrakes.....rats......running for their lives ...the art of rope twisting to fasten the cocks down....in other fields farmers with scythes cutting ....wheat....oats and barley......then binding them and putting themm into stukes......memories of these were furthrer lasered on my mind when tracelling into leenaune.....as you approached killary harbour.....golden sheafs of corn....enhanced the golden sun beating down on this spectacular natural harbour.....the hills were in those days alive with music....the music of farmers tools harvesting the bounty of nature...which we took for granted......in those days we were entertained by the dance of butterflies....and the music of the busy bee.....thatched houses adorned the hills and countryside.....and garlands of smoke.....wafted to the floating cloud tuffs....as they floated aimlessly ......

now if i come by...when youre out in the sun....can i wave at you just like a friend....thes days when everyones takin' so much ...theres someone givin' back in.....

....it appears that way back in those mid forties...and such....the sun shone brighter.....all was golden......

la eile sceil eile......how i moved from club cola to .....guinness is good for you.....

....life is not a highway filled with flowers...still it holds a goodly share of bliss........

...slan ...agus ...

.......................tog go bog e