a cara......growing up in castlebar in the '40's ....and '50's.....were years filled with a rainbow of experiences....a blend of fear...curiosity...uncertainty....boded together with heart bursting joy and laughter......our town way back then was small.....sitting in alittle from the wind and atlantic swept coast,,,,it had its backdrop of the reek to the west....and nephin to the north .....there was no tv...no late ..late show....hoppolong cassidy had a semi residence in the old cinema...the weather was a concoction of mix....and the fog its breath....i drew my first lifes breath in 10 mchale road .....when midwife nurse byrne slapped my ass.....but this street mchale road ...was my life's easel...here i began to fill in my mosaic...and what a place to start that journey....for mchale road had a vast assortment of characters ...and families...it could have very well being ...the stable for the abbey theatre....but the fibre of that street was amainspring for the town....and despite the stigma it bore during that period....it forged a stalwart community.....as kids growing up.....we explored the many areas of the town as we played .....from mchale park...to baile na gcloc....the lawn...to the shores of saleen....from the plantation at simms field to maryland....we painted our memories in the openess and rawness of our borders.......one of my favourite places was a spencer street.....how i would love to put my arms around it and give it a hug...it was one part of the street though that held my interest....it was the back road that ran behind the cottages .....its mouth was between the old county cinema....and kellys.....the old cinema in my memory was our palace...although we might have the right of entry ...but...every sunday afternoon 4 penny matinee......kellys....the home of patto kelly...his wife....tossy and the most unique of castlebar characters ...paddy myselaf ...noel mcging....perhaps michael lacey....michael gavin ...would wander up that dirt back road....a road of mud ....rock and stone....straight ahead ...as you entered the mouth of the road was ....the slaughter house of john kelly.....we as boys were always curious....and wondered of the fate of the odd cow ...or sheep that were brought throuh its green doors....we often stood by the doors....and listened.....with a frightened shrill....but we knew that the animals were slaughtered..for meat....often as we passed kellys we were entertained...by the squabbles of tossy and paddy...and some of their lines and retorts were food for a casey play.....these houses had very big gardens....and many were well taken care of ....both with flowere and vegetable......through parts of the clearing we could see simms house ....glass house and field.....and as we looked...we could hear the wind whistle through...the companies of many grasses....blowing that ever fresh...perfume of natures bounty....we wandered down the road until we came to our place of interest....ulick walshes forge.....as we approached we could see the wrought iron hand forged railings and gates...where the master blacksmith....ulick cast his magic....we could hear the familiar....forging on the anvil...then the bell sounding clang as in his rhytm .....two beats to the metal...one to the anvil....as we approached the entrance to the forge....ulick could be seen....one hand on the bellowspole.....the other poking and stoking the fires furnace....with a covering of slack.....ulick was always inviting and friendly towards us ....he rather enjoyed our company....and he knew us all by name....in the fire lay buried a piece of iron ....heating to its point of workabilityand until it was molten hot.....as he pulled down on the bellows ....the sound of rushing air could be heard.....and sparks would illumine the dark workshop.....smoke would rush to the opening in the roof.....and then flames would break through the mound of slack......as he manouvered his stage....beads of sweat could be seen on his smoke d and blackened face.....after a few pumps on the bellows....ulick...would grasp a tongs....and turn and probe the metal deeper in the glowing furnace.....our first image of the forge was this very dark workshop....and looking in ...if the sun was bright ...your eyes flinched a little as they adjusted to the dark pit inside....the forge had a little window at the back....as if light could filter through the heavily smoked glass.....there was a heavy coal dust ...smokey smell .....but through the gloominess of the place it was an accelarotating feeling.....the walshes were main stays of the old spencer street families...and every time i heard the song lavender blue...dilly dilly....i thought the song was written for them.....for in the large contingent of walshes....we had dilly ...dally ...allie...ulick and sky...some of the boys were painters ...decorators...and were in their own right...part of castlebar folklore....and colour.....ulick would often ley us pull on the bellows......and allowed us bang the hammers on the anvil....i would watch intently as he pulled a piece of steel from his furnace ...and began to bang it into waht would become ...a horseshoe....it was an added delight if a horse was there for shoeing....it was exciting to see ulick hold the hot shoe in his tongs....and then apply it to the hoof of the horse....foot between his legs....and the smell of smouldering hoof....a kind of acrid smell that was delightful.....then with precision the nails were driven ....at last the horse was shod....and seemed delighted to be allowed to get out into the fresh air.....i awed at how ulick knew the metal was just right for his hammers.....ulick talked to us as equals....and indeed his forge was often ...a meeting place for people....a mini social centre.....here many topics were discussed as often farmers came in with a horse ....or parhaps to order a gate.....this forge was a regular visiting place of mine......and as i grew older i flew the coup....i often revisited ulick ....and his forge.....i also savoured one or two pints of liffey water with him......after our visits we would continue down the backroad and exited at michael dolans.....detective butler.....who lived in those cottages ...often met us behind his house....and would ask us how we enjoyed our visit to the forge....ulick was one of castlebars tradesmen ....but more he was a part of the landscape....in all my years i never remember him using foul language.....but he and a neighbour had many a remarkable row......

.....castlebar ...has long changed.....yet as i journey towards the the setting sun of my life.....any time in quiet thought ....i can summon fond memories....and golden times......its then ...the boy in me returns.....and the sound of far away train whistles....echo in my ears.....

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