Childhood memory of Kerrykeel

It would be around 1967, I was about 9 or 10 I think, that's why I think it was 1967. We spent each summer, all summer, in  Kerrykeel, Co. Donegal. My dad would drive us there from Swansea, S. Wales via the ferry from Liverpool or Fishguard and decant us into Granda Kelly's house on Ranny road. Ranny road ran up the side of Ranny hill, looked over Matson's burn (a small stream) in the valley. Corney Cunningham owned one field down to the burn, the fields further up the hill were uncle Cormac's, the old Logue farm. On up Ranny road was the wee house where uncle Willie lived, a few minutes more of a walk was Ranny house itself where uncle Cormac, my mother's uncle, would be if he was home from America.

The local lads would go fishing in the burn for trout, and I was desperate to go too. My cousin, well my mother's cousin Margaret, uncle Willie's daughter who was a few years older than me at 12 or so, took pity and off we went to the burn. I didn't have a fishing rod but the local boys would cut a switch, a straight branch from the hedge, tie some gut to it, hook on a hook and dig some worms so that's what we did too. Into field opposite granda's and headed for a big, it seems big to me anyway, pool intent the worms and out came nothing but it was great. Now I knew the way I was ready to go on my own, I set off with my branch, gut and hook. Uncle Cormac walking down Ranny road says something like, in my hazy memory, why have you got that stick. My reply would be I'm off fishing uncle Cormac. With that come with me young fella, and down we went to granda's shop,  next to the Garda station, and with I think a one pound note bought me a fishing rod. I was lord of all I surveyed, caught a sturdy little brown trout, took it back to granda's, gutted it fought the feral cats off, fried the trout in a pan with some butter and also sautéed some potatoes (although I didn't know that's what I was doing at the time) and ate. Wonderful.

Dúirt mé leis, "Sin, Go raibh maith agat."

Well if I could have spoken Irish I would, it was Bearla instead.

Perhaps Uncle Tommy and the trip to Finn Harps next time.