Mike Hanrahan - Beautiful Affair

COPYRIGHT COPYRIGHT DEDICATION CHAPTER 1 FIREFIGHTER CHAPTER 2 DOOLIN CHAPTER 3 MAURA O’CONNELL CHAPTER 4 TAKE A CHANCE ON ME CHAPTER 5 BAND OF BROTHERS CHAPTER 6 FINBAR FUREY CHAPTER 7 RONNIE, I HARDLY KNEW YA … CHAPTER 8 LEGENDS CHAPTER 9 VAGABONDS CHAPTER 10 BALLYMALOE COOKERY SCHOOL CHAPTER 11 LEARNING CURVE CHAPTER 12 PAT SHORTT’S BAR CHAPTER 13 ELEANOR SHANLEY CHAPTER 14 ARTISAN PARLOUR & GROCER CHAPTER 15 ENCORE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

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First published by HarperCollins Publishers 2019

FIRST EDITION

© Mike Hanrahan 2019

Illustration © Charlotte O’Reilly Smith 2019

Photographs from the author’s personal collection unless otherwise indicated

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers 2019

Cover illustrations © Charlotte O’Reilly Smith

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

Mike Hanrahan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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Source ISBN: 9780008333003

Ebook Edition © October 2019 ISBN: 9780008308759

Version 2019-09-10

DEDICATION DEDICATION CHAPTER 1 FIREFIGHTER CHAPTER 2 DOOLIN CHAPTER 3 MAURA O’CONNELL CHAPTER 4 TAKE A CHANCE ON ME CHAPTER 5 BAND OF BROTHERS CHAPTER 6 FINBAR FUREY CHAPTER 7 RONNIE, I HARDLY KNEW YA … CHAPTER 8 LEGENDS CHAPTER 9 VAGABONDS CHAPTER 10 BALLYMALOE COOKERY SCHOOL CHAPTER 11 LEARNING CURVE CHAPTER 12 PAT SHORTT’S BAR CHAPTER 13 ELEANOR SHANLEY CHAPTER 14 ARTISAN PARLOUR & GROCER CHAPTER 15 ENCORE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

To Donna

CONTENTS

COVER

TITLE PAGE

COPYRIGHT

DEDICATION

CHAPTER 1 FIREFIGHTER

CHAPTER 2 DOOLIN

CHAPTER 3 MAURA O’CONNELL

CHAPTER 4 TAKE A CHANCE ON ME

CHAPTER 5 BAND OF BROTHERS

CHAPTER 6 FINBAR FUREY

CHAPTER 7 RONNIE, I HARDLY KNEW YA …

CHAPTER 8 LEGENDS

CHAPTER 9 VAGABONDS

CHAPTER 10 BALLYMALOE COOKERY SCHOOL

CHAPTER 11 LEARNING CURVE

CHAPTER 12 PAT SHORTT’S BAR

CHAPTER 13 ELEANOR SHANLEY

CHAPTER 14 ARTISAN PARLOUR & GROCER

CHAPTER 15 ENCORE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

CHAPTER 1

FIREFIGHTER

Farmer John, plough your fields, bring the seed to grain,

Feed the hungry, fill the belly of the traveller as he sails,

A weary heart, a tired soul will try come what may,

Farmer John, plough those fields, help him on his way.

– ‘ Firefighter’, What You Know (2002)

THE CROSSING

My parents grew up in the neighbouring farming communities of Barntick and Ballyea in County Clare. As a young couple they chose to start their new life in the burgeoning outskirts of Ennis, which offered opportunities for work and a new rented home in which to raise their young family. In 1957 they moved to the just-built St Michael’s Villas on the edge of Ennis, and there they raised eight children, six boys and two girls: Gerard, Joseph, Kieran, myself, Gabriella, Adrian, John and Jean. I was in the middle; the youngest two were twins. Dad provided and Mother nurtured.

When we were young, our summers were spent secluded on my grandparents’ farm, a few miles from civilisation. We walked to and from the village of Ballylea every Sunday morning, dressed in our finest to attend Mass at the parish church. The farm was our domain, where our friends were the animals and our sustenance came from the very land we roamed.

Come September, we returned to the bustling terraces of Ennis, playing games on the green with the O’Loughlins, the Howards, the Hahessys, the McMahons and the Dinans. By contrast with the farm, it was a noisy playground where you fought to shout your name.

Even as children, our ‘country’ mentality jostled for position on the streets and in our schools, while the country folk saw us only as townies. We were somewhere in the middle, criss-crossing – in language, expression, attitude and mind.

But home life had surety, unity and a purpose, constantly nourished with wonderful music and beautiful food. Music and food have kept me on track at every crossing.

DAN JOE

My grandfather, Daniel Joseph Kelleher, was born in 1898 at No. 2 Victoria Villas, Victoria Cross in Cork City, and was sent to live with his aunt Mary, who lived with her husband Patrick Nagle in Ballyea in County Clare. It was not unusual in those days for large families to send some of their children to live with their aunts or uncles to help alleviate the pressure on food and board at home. Dan Joe grew up in Ballyea and married a local girl, Margaret McTigue. They settled down to raise their family of four boys and one girl, my beautiful mother, Mary Kelleher.

Dan Joe was a gentle man who worked for the local government and spent the rest of his time working the farm with Margaret, raising cattle, pigs, sheep, geese and hens. He wore a dark grey fedora that only left his head when he sat down to eat or attend Sunday Mass. We spent our entire summer school holidays on their farm, a playground of vast open acres of grazing fields, stables, hen houses, tackle room, straw-bedded sheds and a monstrous metal-framed hay barn that would fill to capacity during our stay. At the rear of the milking parlour was a slurry pit which fed the land and gave off the most noxious of smells in the July heat. Manual farm machinery speckled the yard, along with milk churns, water barrels, a couple of dogs and the ever-present Charlie, the wonder horse, our absolute best friend in the whole wide world.

Beyond his work on the farm, Dan Joe loved hurling and Irish music. He stood proud at the back of the Ballyea or the Clarecastle village halls whenever we performed at the variety concerts and always cheered our successes. He loved the sound of the accordion so much he gifted one to my brother Joe, who played it for a few years.

He was quite ill towards the end, and in his final days, a hush surrounded the visit of a local healer, who was called to administer the sap from the bark of a birch tree which was boiled in milk along with a few other secret ingredients. In rural parts of Ireland, doctors were expensive, so most people looked to the local healers and their folk medicine for help. The practitioners were dedicated, and believed in the virtue of their treatments, with very little money exchanging hands, if any at all. Some local communities continue to believe in the power of these natural remedies.