....a cara....had i been brighter...the ladies gentler....the whiskey weaker....had the gods been kinder....had the dice been hotter....this could have been a one sentence story.....once upon a time i lived happily ever after....so as i sip my morning java....and gaze across the angry choppy....white capped waves of lake ontario....and feel the piercing javelin bites of the cold wind that blows across the lake....i notice in the distance....the trees are dropping their lafy mantles....and the landscape is being transformedin a multitude of awesome collage of colours....from golden...to reds....the leaves are now opaque....as they fall and drift to the ground....the north wind is spreading its tentacles ...alerting us that old man winter is but a wink away....and soon we will be enveloped in its blanket of snow and ice.....grrrh...!over in mayo...the wild north west atlantic.....is begginning to rise and swell...in its terrible beauty....the coast...and countryside...is soaked by the western rains.....and the emerald of many greens is beginning to loose its sheen and lustre ...the broken fast moving cloud streaks...are creating an umbrella of dark gloom.....the familiar views of the mountains from mchale road are now...disappearing in grey silhoutte.....on the radio....the beatles are singing ....about ...penny lane...a memory of theirs on penny lane in birkinhrad by the old leaver brothers soap factory.... slowly my mind begins to settle on gentler times...of life in tir na nog....im transported ...as if i were on a magic carpet....where my memory is rich....and uninhibited....speaking of magic carpets.....we all have read stories of fantasy...and magic carpets...whic always fascinated me....times when i lay by the river at clydagh bridge.....and imagined been carried away on one....but this fascination was never so awesome...than when i first went into piccadilly circus in london in 1954.....i was caught in the wonder of the circus....i looked up at a building ...and there was an ad for air india....a a bright neon ....sign....with a prince riding a magic carpet....i went back many times to look at this .....our memories are vast warehouses of lifes experiences...they are vaults ....and libraries of best sellers not yet harnassed for publication....but its in the unfolding of these pages....i ride on the juggernaut of my rather interesting life.....as i sipped my coffee...i became hypnotised in regression......as i drifted ...i began to think of newline.....hereat number 14....lived my granparents....con and ellen ocallaghan....even in those long ago years my grandparents...were experiencing the sunset of their life.....they were old...and my cousin con clarke ......lived with them....con was about to spread his wings...and go to england to join the british army....my grandparents were remarkable people...my grandmother a great cook...and my grandfather...long retired from the army....decorated by queen victoria....and his scoll and medal from her hung proudly in my grandfathers barber shop.....he still worked as a barber....and his many customers...would sit loyally in their shop.....as he regalled them in war stories....i remember one of his most famous customers.....was amr. cunningham....who lived bt the tech. in newtown...mr cunningham...was the local cruelty of children warden....i often used to go his house...and when he got a lorry of turf from packie philbin.....i helped bag it in ....and get a half crown for my efforts....the home on newline was a humble house....no running water...or indoor toilet....water had to be collected every day in two buckets from the pumps near kearneys shop and johnny mchales pub.....one of my daily chores was to fetch the water....the kitchen had the usual table and chairs....with an gingham patterned oil cloth covering the table....and a big crystal bowl full of sugar in the centre....the house was heated by a range....but it was magic...or at least i thought so....it had a reservoir...which held water...and so when the fire was lit...bingo.....instant hot water....granny always sat on a big wooden arm chair...complete with cushions....my grandmother ...was always welcoming.....the gren door of the house was always open....and on the back wall was a dresser filled with shining delph....speckled in white blue and brown...the mantle....was the resting place...for two ....clay dogs....pure white...wuth brown ears....a ticking clock....round and bold held centre court....with its two alarm bells......the tik ...tock...resonated through the kitchen....and beside that was the tea cannister....a tin box ...with loose tea....next was a vase that held pipe lights.....my grandfather....enjoyed his walnut plug....in a white clay pipe.....the rest of the kitchen was filled...by unlimited amounts of available love that seemed to permeate evry nook and cranny of the house....during may and october ....when the rosary...was a church staple.....myself and my two friends ...pat ludden...and paddy moylette ....would go there every evening after the vespers...and we would sit around the range and play ludo.....during those days of school....i would go there for my lunch.....i would walk down newline with my friends....anton...and lar lyons....peter mchugh...dermot neely.....the tiernan brothers....jimmy swift....denny rowland....hubert garry would always be standing at his door....he always thought we would fool around with his sheds on newline....sometimes john lohan....would be standing on the corner as well....a sort of reminder the siocholoonie were always on guard....my grandmother would have my place set....my weeping willow cup and saucer....a knife and plate for my bread of butter and jam.....then i would run for errands...for her...to kearneys ...or hayes ....mcgowans....and sometimes to andy jennings butcher shop...for a lb of thick beef sausages.....every wednesday my uncle tommy ocallaghan would come to visit his parents....and it was a ritual....for me to run to johnny mchales...for two baby powers.....newline was a quaint street then.....manned by two water pumps.....one up at john hylands....the other at mchales.....houses only on one side as the backyards of homes on newantrim street extended to the side of new line....i remmember the many families then...the rowlands...sarah rowland...and her mother.....and josie....the mclaughlins....patsy....and his sister eileen...who sadly passed away during those times....the morans...the lyons....the mchughs....my grandparents had a very big back garden....and one of the features...was the magnificent crop of blackcurrants...and gooseberries...when they were in season....my granny would give me a bag ...and tell me help myself....my most dreaded fear of those visits ...was my grandfather cutting my hair.....he used old hand clippers....and when they jammed....he would yank them free....hair and all....he would sharpen his razor on the the leather strap...that hung by his chair....once a week....he would sit by the table....and grind the razors on a stone......sadly ....one monday in 1953.....on my lunchtime visit granny had not put my cup and plate down....no....she was in bed....what was to be the last week of her wonderful life....she lay in a coma...as i visited...been comforted spiritually by fr. mchugh.....that saturday evening....whilst i was enjoying a tanners worth of chips...covered in salt and malt vinegar...in nearys cafe...on castle lane...i got word to go to newline.....my dear grandmother had passed away....she lay on her bed...still not prepared.....i cried bitterly......the word passed around quickly....and she was laid out in the kitchen....neighbours gathered ...from near and far...and points beyond....the booze was ordered ...from mchales....the minerals...and this grand lady....held court in her kitchen one last time......one of the funniest things happened that night.....johnny "the whip" moran got wind of the news up town....he was as drunkk as stick when he arrived at the house...and on entering the house exclaimed.....i want to kiss the bride....someone told him it was a wake ...to which johnny replied ...better sthill....we'll be drinking for a week....after my grannys death...i started going to the solarium restaurant on main street for my lunch....but i continued to visit my grandad....he was a devout man....who bore his loss with great dignity....i wrote various letters for him.....my days on new line were filled with many memeories of good times....nightly visits with the lyons brothers to nodie swifts house...and good times with mary jo moylette...her sister dolores....and bea barrett....my grandfather brought me for my first discovery of baile na gloc.and showed me where francie philbin lived with his stash of gold sovereigns.......and where later i was to have wonderous magical days with noel mccarthy....and barry jennings....i guess newline has changed somewhat since those days of once upon a good time....mchughs brothres built the ...world famous ...welcome inn....on new antrim street ...i guees the water pumps are long gone...everyone has running water....and flush toilets...but grandparents...are still living...for some and i hope many have the wondrous memories of theirs as i have of mine...the many military stories my grandad shared with me....alot of people ...even way back then would not know my grandfather was born in india...and had early schooling there...and in newline ...his cuury meal was a weekly feature.....i still see my granny...sitting alone ....and granddad....puffing his white clay pipe.....as they both comforted weach other....they never had a radio....yet alone a tv....but the welcome ...extended beyond their green door....

...sitting alone in an old rockin' chair....i saw an old woman with silvery hair.....she seemed so neglected by those who should care...rockin' alone in an old rockin' chair....her hands were calloused and wrinkled and old....a life of hard work was the story they told....and ive thought of angels...as i saw her there....sitting alone on her old rockin' chair....

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