a cara.......john keats ...wrote....four seasons fill the measure of the year.....there are four seasons in the mind of man......and as i reflect on .....it appears that just a wink and a smile away we were we were writing on mummers and rhymers ......2010....seems to have passed by like a flash....as a young boy i often heard people exclaim...."i don't know where the yera went..."......and i guess its true as we pass our prime....time seems to glide bye as swift the recent ufo sighting over castlebar....why..... thirty years have slipped bye since john lennon was gunned down in new york........many of our old friends in castlebar have passed on and the glossary of the towns original old stock is diminishing .......i hear castlebar is wrapped up in a snow blanket....and an artic chill has locked the town and surrounding areas in its icy grasp......iread on the castlebar news ....that st.geralds was having its annual card drive......and it made me think of my days in the early fifties in that academy......about this time of year....early december ...we students were preparing ourselves for the christmas exams......and then the christmas holidays......after school broke up for those festivities....a group of us ......mickey....sean....and bobby stuart.....joe mcgrath....sean and dick king.....ed moylette.....jj mullins....dan o neill....franny mulligan....george jordan....and myself would help get the school ready for the annual post christmas whist drive.....we would all meet at the school.....and pull all the classroom partitions back....and line up desks...tables and chairs in es ...and patterns....there was always a delightful ....light hearted whirl in the air.....we worked as a team.....with bro. lucian pitching in.....after the room was in order......we would gather around for a little penny poker.....the whist drive was always a great success......from my kitchen window ....at about this time....as the misty shrouds of december draped the town......the nuns brought their charges....the convent boarders for their weekly organised walk......i would see the ritual clearly.....as the group walked in platoon fashion .....down the red stoned lawn path......they were dressed in their black gym frocks...and black gaberdines...and tams.....the lawn always looked so eerie this time of year......as its leaf bare trees stood in dark silhoutte aboard their lush wet soaked carpet of green......as i reflect the grass on the lawn always looked extra lush this time of year.......also at this time of the year the choir was a very strong ...as we got ready for the christmas carolling......one of the highlites of that ....was that on at least two occassions every year we got to sing with the girls in the convent......under the guidance of bro. baptist.....the boys would meet at st.pats....and in procession march to the convent.......here....we entered the sacrosanct chambers of the convent classrooms......and when we...were orderly seated the girls were escorted in the classroom.......with two rows of seats between the girls and boys.....after an hour or so of singing together the girls were marched out...with the eagle eyes of the nuns.....watching lest there be any contact between the sexes......in my day we got in extra turf and fuel for the fire.....shop windows were illumined in festive foods and gifts......the post man was laden with cards from all over ....and places beyond.....we gathered holly.....and cut down the old christmas tree......kitchens were intoxicating....with aromas from home made cakes and puddings....the goose had'nt had its neck stretched yet......and the train station was busy as .....many working in england came home for the holidays......i used to go up to see the evening train.....come in from dublin....just below the signal box where jim foy....and mr. bradley....controlled the traffic......there was a little hill where myself ...and scals...pat ludden would stand until the train came around the corner....near balloor.....jim foy would sometimes allow us to take a look in the signal box....we wathched in wonder as he pulled the levers....that controlled traffic.....chug...puff...puff.....the mighty staem engine....steamed its way to the platform where mr foy would meet the driver and exchange the batons that cleared the next section.....there was a mighty gush of steam as the locomotive came to a halt.......castlebar....castlebar.....castlebar....was the cry as doors opened ....suitcases ....thrown out the doors....and then the happy returnee...jumped off......outside.....harry healy.....billy newell....paddy omalley....john kenny....mooch maloney....stood alert and keen for a fare......outside the station at gussy burkes wall pine cones.....lay on the side walk.....a new section of concrete was laid near there and was inscribed by mercy lacey....where the mark of fame stayed for years.....mc hale road echoed all that was family back then....why even pop duffys was not even around.....yet......
..............on mists in idleness..to let fair things pass by unheeded as a threshold brook...he has his winter too of pale misfeature.....or else he would forego his mortal nature.....
.....christmas is a reminder how quickly one year slips in to the next.....its a time to reflect on all that was good ....once upon a good time....
......tog go bog e........