The party’s over

The town of Cavan is slowly but irrevocably returning to its quiet, humdrum nature as a dirty town once the fleadh road show has moved away. Why can’t Cavan by tidy all the time, and not just when funds appear to clean it up? Are its publicans such prostitutes? That they’ll only do things if the price is right?  

 One aspect may be that the price of a pint will revert to its normal level, instead of the empyrean heights it occasionally reached in some hostelries. It might be interesting to see the movement of funds to some officials’ bank accounts as I doubt that many of them are cle er enough to take possible kickbacks by circuitous routes.

Love stories begin in Zhivago’s Part !

I have long felt that Cavan has been losing out as a tourism destination because of its reluctance to embrace Romantic tourism. This may be because many of those charged, either past or present, with marketing the county don’t know where it is. There are some romantic locations, not least the Dun A’ Ri forest park with its Lovers’ Walk. Well I’d like to suggest a couple of other locations with romantic connections, but to do so I have to tell a love story so bear with me please.

 As a young teenager I recall spending quite a bit of time in the back rows of Cavan’s fleapit The Magnet Cinema. This was the location of some voyages of discovery by me when I wasn’t really looking at the screen that much. I recall an advertising campaign that ran in those days for a Dublin night spot which seemed to be the very epitome of sophistication: it was called Zhivago’s Nightclub and the tagline, spoken by a gent with a camp English accent, was “Love stories begin in Zhivago’s”. Well there is a location here in Cavan where love stories begin. One of the heroes was inspired not so much by Boris Pasternak’s novel but by the over-sentimentalised film adaptation starring Julie Christie and Omar Sharif. In fact he really identified with Sharif to the extent that he trimmed his moustache to look like him.

The location for my love story is a decommissioned convent which has been forced to close its doors because of the fall off in vocations and turn itself into a second-hand clothes emporium and vintage car repair shop, which is called (you’ve guessed it) – Zhivago’s. But I think I’ve whetted my readers appetites enough already and so I’ll continue this love story with its heart rending and bowel turning pathos in my next instalment.

Hommage a mes amis Francaises

J’etais si ravi de refaire la conaissance de mes amis Francaises Jean Paul et Francoise Metais quand ils ont rendus visite a Cavan en occasion de la fete musicale recente. .Il fait plus de vingt ans que nous nous voyons. Je rapelle avec beaucoup d’emotion ma visite a Jaunay Clain, cette ville jolie et charmante en Poitou Charente. Je rapelle surtout le gout des asperges preparés par Francoise, et aussi le farci poitevin et le merlan, et le “gnol” de Jean-Paul et du vin frais qui a surgeait des barriques a la vigne ce jousr chaud du mai . Malheureusement je n’etais pas chez moi quand ils son arrivés, mais neanmois inous avons parlé par telephone. J’espere qu’il n’y aie pas trop de temps avant de nous rencontre encore une fois, ou en France ou en Irlande. – esperons.

 Here is a translation of the above and, like Jorge Luis Borges (with whom I share a birthday) I hope the original is true to the translation.

 I was so delighted to remake the acquaintance of my French frie3nds Jean-Paul and Francoise Metais when they visited Cavan during the recent fleadh. It is more than twenty years since we last saw one another. I recall with much emotion my visit to Jaunay Clain, that nice charming town in the Poitou Charente. I especially recall the taste of the asparagus prepared by Francoise, and also the “Farci Poitevin” and whiting, and Jean-Paul’s “gnol” and the fresh sine which flowed from the barrels at the vineyard on that hot day in May. Unfortunately I wasn’t at home when they arrived but we spoke by telephone. I hope that there will be not much time before we meet  once again, either in France of in Ireland – let us hope.

Final words on the fleadh

These are my final words on the pissfest which have been the Cavan fleadh. True, as someone who likes the curious combination of classical and rap music the fleadh might not have been my cup of tea. However, Irish traditional musicians are very gifted custodians of arts and skills which can only be learned with great difficulty. My uncles were gifted traditional musicians, so I would have had the greatest respect for the event. What’s more I love any opportunity for people to have a good time, whether with their clothes on or not.

 In spite of having a high enough profile in the town and the county I was airbrushed out of the fleadh. Historical talks were organised (not that I saw the need for them). They were to be given by Dr Brendan Scott and Dr Jonathan Cherry, but there was no room for Dr Ciaran Parker. Are there people in Cavan County Council who dispute my doctorate? And then that this Dr Scott was going to give a lecture on the history of my native town, about which I have written for years and also spoken in an entertaining manner.

 I thought that some attempts were being made to rebuild bridges with me when playwright Philip Doherty asked me to open his series of plays. However, Philip (whom I understand is very busy) is too busy to return my emails or ‘phone calls. No doubt he has been told that the involvement of a cripple, who has always shown that he is not prepared to be merely seen but not heard, would be inappropriate.

 I do hope that all those who have visited the town and participated in any way in the fleadh have had a really enjoyable time. But I hope that they know that the organisers, and most especially Cavan County Council, are a crowd of shameless reprobates and any success that the fleadh has attained has been in spite of them.

Fleadh’s final day

The fleadh is coming to an end. The fleadh organisers have wanted the event to be inclusive as possible, and so throughout the event there have been opportunities for groups such as dipsomaniacs and cripples. The fleadh’s final day will be an opportunity to Cavan’s Gay and Lesbian community to strut their stuff. Many of the events will be attended by Cavan’s chain-wearing trannies, but the highlight will probably be the finals of the Lesbian and Tribad Traditional Irish dancing competition and the handing over by Whacko Jacko of the coveted John West trophy. There are rumours that some people from the Co. Cavan branch of the radical Mili-Pede group advocating greater intergenerational sexual encounters may infiltrate these events, so it might be an idea to keep the kids away.

Arya up for the ride at Cavan’s fleadh?

A persistent complaint of some visitors to Cavan’s fleadh has been the scarcity of prostitutes. It is often forgotten that traditional musicians have urges and that those who like to blow like to be blown. Cavan County Council’s initiative to provide cheap women alongside cheap accommodation by encouraging the town’s girls to make a few bob by going on the game during the fleadh failed because of lack of interest.

 Chief organiser Whacko Jacko is determined to make good this loss at future fleadhs by opening a string of massage parlours in the main street alongside the sandwich and burger bars catering for all tastes and genders. Prices will be capped: 50 euro for a hand job; 100 euro for a blow job and 150 euro for an LBJ. Of course present and past members of the council’s staff and their families can go free.

 For those who prefer a more alfresco sexual experience there will be licensed hookers working from the front gardens of certain locations suggested by the parents of council engineers. Although it was initially planned that the hookers would be able to take up residence without the garden owners’ permission, it is now envisaged that the girls will pay a percentage of their takings for the use of the grass. In the narrow spirit of the fleadh every effort will be made to encourage Irish girls to offer themselves or sale. We all remember the Walton’s music slogan. “If you fuck a whore, fuck an Irish whore.”

Nationwide moments

Wednesday evening (August 18^th) witnessed the return to Ireland of Ireland’s answer to Ronnie Biggs i.e. Michael Fingleton. But whereas Ronnie only robbed a train Fingleton’s tastes were allegedly broader, and in spite of being apparently sated, the country still has to find billions to bail him out. In any country where justice is followed Fingleton should have been arrested on his return to Ireland, ah but sure police cells are only for poor people.

 Wednesday evening saw another “Nationwide” moment, on RTE’s Nationwide program. Part of this was dedicated to Cavan’s fleadh. It featured an interview with Cavan’s answer to stand-up comedian Jack Dee. I wonder whether Whacko Jacko actually believes some of the shit he comes out with? He presented Cavan town as one great doss-house, full of “cheap” accommodation in private houses where fleadh goers could crash out after a day or night on the piss. One thing which isn’t that clear is how patrons of the fleadh who are staying in assorted fleadh pits are covered by insurance. Then he came out with a load of crud about disabled access. Now I’m in a wheelchair, but there are many other disabled people in Cavan who have never been consulted about accessibility. No, the only one who is consulted is Whack Jacko’s friend Bridget.

 I heard rumours of what was going to be on the program later. Like someone watching the Horror Channel I nevertheless decided to ignore the warnings of “scenes that some viewers might find distressing” but I regretted it, as I was reminded that there are still lurking in our midst personifications of evil. I thought fate had caught up with that bastard and that he was dying of cancer? No such fucking luck! And what’s happened the ronnie? Its disappearance is the fault of that Dafydd from Little Britain who believed that the gay character on Are You Being Served? was Captain Peacock.

Pennies from Heaven

I am reliably informed that a roundabout near Cavan town is sporting a statue of a fiddle. This reminds me of that myth about how the emperor Nero fiddled while Rome burned in AD 64. It may have been belied by history, but I think there is a link. We are told that we are living through one of the worst economic recessions in the history of the state, hospitals are facing closure and cancer treatment units are being axed, the Department of Social Protection is refusing legitimate claims for benefits to people who have been signing on for months if not years on the grounds that the claimants are not habitually resident, and yet money has been flowing like water in Cavan and grants have been available to pubs and shops to cover seventy-five per cent of paintwork and repairs.

 This may seem like traditional Cavan begrudgery, but those who visit Cavan town for the fleadh must realise who the real beneficiaries of the fleadh are.

PS. It is wishful thinking on my part, but I can imagine some senior member of Cavan County Council’s executive team (maybe the fiddler) stabbing himself with a broken meths bottle, while exclaiming: Qualiter fellator pereo! (That’s your actual Latin that is. It means “What a cock-sucker dies with me!”)

Tom Barron, an unequalled Cavan Scholar

I am delighted to hear that Tom Barron, probably the greatest scholar to be produced by Co. Cavan, is to be the subject of a lecture by my good friend Jonathan A. Smyth in Bailieborough on September 7th at 8 pm.

 I remember the first time I met Tom. It was in March 1976 or 1977, when I accidentally gave a talk he gave in one of the anterooms of Cavan’s Town Hall. I had gone there with my late sister Anita to visit an exhibition of drawings by the contemporary Irish artist, Louis le Brocquy. Instead we stumbled on an illustrated journey into Cavan’s past: its archaeology, its history, its folklore, its religion, all of the things which go together to make up the area’s cultural heritage. It was presented by this affable and accessible man whose scholarship was very deep, but nevertheless worn lightly.

 Tom was never parochial in his outlook. I recall on another occasion how I mentioned my interest in looking at the history of a particular location, and Tom answered that such researches might carry me to the four corners of Europe.  

 Tom was someone who was greater than a historian or a folklorist. He was capable of looking outside of the box, and observing links between disciplines which those imprisoned within could not or dared not see. His curiosity, once excited, could never be satisfied by the limited pseudo-intellects of others. It was this element of his genius which excited the scorn and disdain of those who could never aspire to the breadth of his knowledge within a millennium.

 He was man whose quiet character endeared him to all of those who like him were motivated by the highest standards of scholarship. He was certain of what he had been able to achieve and never sort to adorn his intellectual plumage with feathers borrowed from others, whether willingly or unwillingly.

 I am looking forward with avidity to Jonathan’s talk, as it will repay a debt that has been for too long outstanding.

 http://jonathansmyth.wordpress.com/2010/06/18/thomas-james-barron-lecture-september-7th/

The McCabes in early 17th century Cavan

Here is a brief and rather hastily written summary of my talk to the McCabe Clan Rally in Ballyconnell last weekend.

 The McCabes in Early 17^th century Cavan

 The Mccabes had arrived in Ireland from Scotland, and had acted as mercenaries for numerous septs throughout the north of the Island. However, by the end of the sixteenth century their long-term prospects were gloomy. The English crown was increasing its influence, and they had a low opinion of families like the McCabes who earned their living through fighting. What’s more, their military skills were becoming ever more redundant.

 The final denouement was the defeat of the Ulster rebellion, sealed by the Treaty of Mellifont f 1603. Many of the leaders of Gaelic Irish society, such as Aedfh O’Neill or Aedh O Domhnall chose exile rather than the uncertain future that awaited them. Among those leaving Ireland at the time was a captain Seamus McCaba who left Cavan for Spain, never to return.

 Their departure ushered in the Plantation of Ulster, where the lands of the Irish were given to planters from England and Scotland, and the original inhabitants were forced to live on restricted holding for which they had to pay high rents.

 The relationship between native and newcomer was not one of undeclared hostility though. While the Irish had lost much of their lands this did not cause universal resentment. They were still able to farm land, in return for paying higher rents, which many planters were only too happy to rent to them. The two groups lived beside one another and generally co-operated with one another. Marriages were rare if only because the two groups belonged to different religions, but they did occur, such as that between the Reverent Richard Parsons of Laragh, and a woman of the Ui Raghallaigh sept. There were also less formal unions. A prominent member of the Burrowes family of Stradone had a child by one McCabe, her serving man.

 The McCabes seemed to have accepted this situation.  Henry or Harry McCabe, a youth moved to Cavan town where he was brought up as the son of an inn keeper. There were still avenues for even greater advancement, as shown by James McCabe who became a highly respected lawyer and barrister. 

  In geographical terms the McCabes lived in central Cavan, in a belt of territory ranging from Ballintemple and Crosserlough in the south, to Drumgoon in the north, and extending to Drumlane in the west. The centre of their landholding was at Ogghill, later renamed Moynehall in honour of the planter Thomas Moigne.

 The balance between native and newcomer was upset by fears at the growth of the puritan party inn England, and that their victory might lead to further acts of discrimination against Catholics in Ireland. A plot was hatched by, amongst others, Lord Conor Maguire, baron of Enniskillen. This involved the seizure of Dublin Castle on October 23^rd. The plan miscarried because its details were leaked, and its leaders arrested. Amongst those detained with Conor Maguire was a Culde Boy McCabe.

 The rebellion was initially successful in Cavan, its leaders were Philip McHugh O Reilly and sheriff Myles O’Reilly. The McCabes do not figure prominently amongst the voluminous depositions which have survived, and which often tell a story of barbarity and former friends becoming enemies. They didn’t take part in any of the excesses of the rebellion in Cavan, such as the drownings at Belturbet or the murders of planters at Lear near Bailieborough. However, some were implicated in attacks on the planters. The aforementioned Harry McCabe, turned on his benefactor at the start of the rebellion. He seized his goods and drove him and his family out of Cavan.  When the man re-entered the county in the autumn of 1643 as part of a band of soldiers, Harry ambushed and killed them near Virginia. James McCabe the barrister became a judge when the rebel authorities tried to reinstate court proceedings in Cavan in 1642.

 The leaders of the rebellion lost their lands, though it is unclear just how far the McCabes suffered this fate. James McCabe died in 1642 while Harry seems to have made a full confession of his crimes once English rule was re-established in the county.

 © Ciaran Parker 2010