In the summer of 1977 we stayed in a lovely B&B in Cross Cloghane in Kerry. The old lady who ran it, Nellie O'Neill, had a sister who ran Nora Murphy's bar in Brandon (quite likely Nora herself). One day Nellie asked us to take a huge plain brown paper parcel to the pub. It turned out to be a vast salmon, the provenance of which we were discouraged from investigating. Our reward later that evening was a hunk of the finest baked fish we've ever eaten, right to this day. We were also treated to a young girl's devastatingly good whistle-playing. I wonder whether the old boys still drink their Guinness straight from the bottles, lining up the dead men under their stools!