When the new bank manager saw us in social ‘action’ for the first time, he wasn’t over impressed with our undoubted drinking skills, and he (allegedly) resolved there and then to break us all up…
I’m taking readers back to the week before lockdown. I suppose, with the Covid-19 pandemic about to land on our doorstep, I can understand how my retirement from the workforce of this great country managed to go unnoticed, when, after a nearly unbroken 52-year stint, the curtain finally fell on a career that saw me have almost as many jobs as hot dinners.
With no requests for interviews from the Sunday Business Post, or even the Financial Times, I bowed out just as we were about to cancel Paddy’s Day (well, the parades at least).
It’s probably true to say that, apart from not going anywhere, the lockdown was just a forerunner of the rest of my life, and if that is the case, I have to admit that I will have no real complaints.
When the history of the Bank of Ireland is written, I have no doubt that there will be no mention of the 3rd November 1968, but it’s a day that should be commemorated for ever in the story of that great financial Institution, because on that day a young Frank Brandon arrived up from the country to start a journey that, from such humble beginnings, could have led him to the summit of the great big financial world. Unfortunately it didn’t. When that west of Ireland youngster walked away twelve years later, he hadn’t really made much of a mark in the banking world, but the craic he had while working in numerous bank branches around the country was almost unbelievable.
The great thing about this pandemic is that it has reawakened the caring and sharing spirit of ‘old Ireland’, and because a lot of us are having lots of time off, we are beginning to think outside the box. Some of us are going back through our past lives and contacting old friends. In my case, I haven’t seen some of those old friends for upwards on forty years. And so last Tuesday night week, as I struggled to get some sleep, I thought back to my days in the Bank of Ireland in Dundalk, where five or six of us had a few great years’ fun, and I said to myself that I would get in touch with some or all them as soon as possible.
Now with me, usually that type of plan is forgotten about as soon as I fall asleep, and I’m sure this one would have been as well, but (remarkably) on the Wednesday evening my phone rang, and who was on the other end only one of the lads (Jakes McCann). Before the evening was out I had spoken to two more of our crew, namely Mickey (Pedro) O’Brien and Pio Malone.
The reason the bould Jakes rang was because he had discovered an old photograph of us all, taken at the Park Street Traders Dinner Dance of December 1973, and he wanted to send us on a copy by WhatsApp.
The upshot of it all is that we plan to hold a reunion at some stage in the coming months, when Covid-19 has passed. We will, please God, go back to Dundalk (the scene of the crimes) for that meeting, and if it does take place it should be some craic. Pedro told me that we had just got a new bank manager at that time, and that Dinner Dance was his first time to see us in social ‘action’. Apparently he wasn’t over impressed with our undoubted drinking skills, and he (allegedly) resolved there and then to break us all up.
Within a year I was on my way to Sligo, my exit helped by being picked up one Friday night by the Gardai for jaywalking, which is effectively the same as drink-driving (but without a car), and the rest of us were dispersed all over the country before too much longer. Almost fifty years have passed since then, but I will never forget the craic, fun and the friendships that were forged all those years ago.
Maybe one of the benefits of this extraordinary break from normality is that we will pay more heed to things that really matter, like family and friends, and less heed to material things. I really hope the new-found concern for others will last long after Covid-19 is forgotten about. Anyway, if and when we do meet up, I will keep you all informed.
Our first ever drive-by birthday
They say that necessity is the mother of invention, and the Covid pandemic has brought all kinds of innovative ideas to bear on lots of things, including the celebration of birthdays. Out here in Crosswell we had our first ever drive-by celebration. I had heard of drive-by shootings, but never birthdays.
Anyway, our next-door neighbour, Jacinta Hanley, former Irish rugby international – and better known as ‘Gibby’ – had a big birthday on Friday and a load of her friends acknowledged the occasion by driving past the house with horns blowing and balloons flying in the wind. It was great craic and brought a bit of colour and light relief to us all in these trying times.
Earlier, myself and my family had walked down to Hanley’s singing Happy Birthday and ‘She’s a jolly good fellow’ – and frightening Tommy Morgan’s ewes and lambs. It too was a bit of fun, and I hope Gibby had a memorable, enjoyable birthday. I know herself and a few more were meant to be in Spain this week, but that was not to be, but the good times will come again, and hopefully Jacinta can have a delayed big birthday bash.
Talking of delayed bashs, this Friday coming, April 17th, I should have been giving away my daughter, Lisa, whose wedding to Brian was scheduled for the Glasson Golf & Country Club, but needless to say it has been postponed and I’ll have to hang on to her for another while.
Lucky enough I hadn’t got the suit yet, so I’ll be watching out for John Corcoran’s ‘Welcome back’ sale; if I do any more walking I’ll be shopping in the children’s section. It’s another of the consequences of the pandemic, but the main thing is we get through it together, and please God when the time comes we’ll give it a lash (no jaywalking this time though).
And finally…
Finally for this week, out here in Creggs, everyone – including the GAA club, the rugby club, local shopkeepers in both Glinsk and Creggs, and the Gardai – are helping vulnerable people get through the coronavirus scare. While I freely admit that I am not the greatest Catholic of all time, I must commend our local PP, Fr. Donal Morris, for a very well written, informative letter that he sent out to every house in the parish last weekend.
It was a practical assessment of the predicament we find ourselves in, but it was also a message of hope, help, and support, and I for one welcomed it, and say well done to Fr. Donal. As we know, the Church sometimes comes in for criticism, so it should also get credit when it’s due.
‘Till next time, keep doing all you are told to do, and keep safe, bye for now
