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For the fainthearted . . .

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Monthly Archives: October 2010

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Hound and hatred

For the fainthearted . . .

Switching on the car radio this evening, the lines sounded familiar – an RTE dramatisation of “The Hound of the Baskervilles” by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  The story was familiar from schooldays, when landmarks from the story were associated with the countryside around..

Our school was on Dartmoor, four miles from the village of Widecombe in the Moor. It was beautiful countryside and some of us on summer Sunday afternoons would walk along the narrow moorland road to Widecombe. There was never much entertainment for teenage boys when we reached …

Afraid of the doctor

For the fainthearted . . .

You go to a rugby match to be entertained, not to be annoyed.

Sitting in the Horse Show Pub three weeks ago, eating a full Irish breakfast before crossing the road to the RDS to watch Leinster play Racing-Metro, a friend said he had been to the doctor for a check up: a wise course of action, given our respective ages.

I avoided the subject while watching this evening’s match against Edinburgh.  The last time I went for a check up was five years ago; it was not a good …

Who would want to go back to school?

For the fainthearted . . .

The eight year old sat looking out the window of his aunt’s car.

“Did you enjoy the week off?”

He smiled. “Yep”.

“Looking forward to school next week?”

A vigorous shake of the head. “No”.

His combination of delight and gloom brought memories of the joy and despondency of schooldays: the bright joy of terms ending and the dark despondency at the approach of further weeks of austerity and arbitrary discipline

Our school was an odd gathering of people brought together from corners of England through ill health. The clear …

It’s time for a church hall tea party

For the fainthearted . . .

David McWilliams came to speak in our parish three weeks ago.  A special moment for a small country parish, we don’t often have nationally known speakers.  But it was not his presence that has endured, it was his message.  The message about who was responsible for our problems; the message that we should not bear the cost of the banks’ debts; the message that we should focus on the things that we are at good at doing and be allowed to work our way back to prosperity; they struck a …

Looking like

For the fainthearted . . .

Somewhere on the road between Johnstown and Freshford, the old Ford crept along the road, moving so slowly that it appeared stopped.  With one headlight and a number plate slightly askew, it brought memories of driving in the 80s.  The silver haired, ruddy faced driver was perhaps heading home, or perhaps heading out; perhaps one of the few who would still venture out for a pint.  Years ago, I gave up judging on the basis of appearance.

There was an evening crossing on the elderly Sealink ferries from Larne that …

Psalm 121

For the fainthearted . . .

Sermon at Saint Mark’s Church Borris-in-Ossory on Wednesday, 27th October 2010.

I always loved action films. In my childhood years there were the cowboy films: the hero and his trusty lieutenant would be trapped in a ring of waggons or in a log cabin, defending a group of women and children against the attackers. There would usually be some feisty woman who would ignore his instructions to stay hidden and would prove to be a shot as good as Annie Oakley as she picked off the surrounding villains with her …

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