A Cat and Nine Tales

Subject: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Matthew Edwards
Date: 02 Jan 02 - 08:46 PM

Some previous tales about cats and other animals, and also some of the history of the Dublin Underground Railway (with acknowledgments to Miles Kington), appeared on this thread BS: The Naming of Cats which was dedicated to the asylum seeker from Llanstock known as Loki. In the meantime Liz the Squeak has provided a home to Max and Amber, who have by now hopefully made peace with Shadow; so to Amber and Max - a belated welcome to the Mudcat community.

In spite of the thread title this first story involves five cats, but maths never was a strong point!

Sister Serena's Celebrated Singing Siamese Cats

Dublin has always had its share of "characters" or eccentrics, from blind Zozimus to Shane McGowan in our own day, and in the drab days of the 1930's there was Sister Serena who gave the town something to talk about. It was a moot point as to whether she had actually ever been in an Order, and given that she lived in a dilapidated old house in the former red light district there was naturally gossip that she had belonged to a different kind of sisterhood altogether. Be that as it may she dressed herself in a sort of nun's habit and wandered the streets singing mainly sentimental and pious ballads. Although she appeared to be quite elderly she had a powerful voice which could be clearly heard across the Liffey.

After a while people began to notice that she was always being followed by a small posse of stray cats. It appeared that her home had become a sort of refuge for abandoned and semi-feral cats, some of whom now took to accompanying her on her travels around the town. The fishmongers on the quays were happy to offer her their scraps to feed her growing family.

One day she appeared in O'Connell Street with five new feline followers; a family of elegant Siamese kittens who had apparently been ejected from their home in Mountjoy Square owing to doubts about their paternity. They struggled to keep up with her as she roamed the streets until some kind soul donated a battered old perambulator. In the following months it became one of the spectacles of Dublin to see this ageing nun pushing a pram containing a handful of yowling kittens. Some observers noticed that the sounds produced by the Siamese quintet were almost musical, and after a while it was evident that the cats were indeed accompanying her singing after a fashion. Sister Serena's rendition of The Harp that once through Tara's halls soon became famous for the added effects provided by the more or less harmonious mewling.

All went well until one day Sister Serena took a trip on the Dublin Underground Railway. An officious conductor examined her ticket and demanded payment for the cats at the standard livestock rate of one halfpenny per head. Serena exploded in ire (using some extremely unsisterly language), and contended that the cats were in fact musical instruments, and as such entitled to free carriage as per the Regulations of the Railway. The row attracted the attention of the passengers in the next-door writers and artists carriage, and the conductor was obliged to beat a retreat in the face of determined opposition from the cultural élite.

Nevertheless when Mr. Lawrence H. Corner, the Managing Director of the Railway, heard of the incident next day he decided to pursue the matter. He had visions of his beloved Railway being overwhelmed by cows and horses on the way to market driven by smart aleck young countrymen all claiming that their animals could sing. He promptly served a writ on Sister Serena for fraudulent misuse of the Railway's facilities, and claiming damages of £100 in addition to unpaid fares of twopence-halfpenny.

The ensuing court case attracted a full house. The young barrister who had taken on Serena's case on a pro bono basis won great applause for his learned arguments in favour of regarding the voice as a musical instrument. However it was generally felt that his extension of this plea to include the voices of animals lacked sufficient foundation, so that the jury had no choice but to find against Sister Serena. They indicated their feelings however by awarding damages of one farthing to the Railway, and furthermore contributed the cost of the damages and the fine out of their own pockets.

This explains why the Regulations of the Railway, as amended in 1935, contain the curious sub-clause: "Under no circumstances may livestock (as defined in Section 5 vii) be treated as a musical instrument."

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Charley Noble
Date: 02 Jan 02 - 09:15 PM

BG!

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: katlaughing
Date: 02 Jan 02 - 10:09 PM

Love it, thanks!!

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Crazy Eddie
Date: 03 Jan 02 - 01:30 AM

Truth is stranger than fiction.

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 03 Jan 02 - 02:55 AM

Hooting with laughter!! Amber would appreciate that! On the way down in the car, we tried several varieties of music to drown out the yowling.... she responded by shutting up during the classical and folk music, but yowled her head off as soon as the DJ started talking, or the CD finished!

Max and Amber have indeed settled down, Max like he's always lived here, Amber took a bit longer but is now sleeping on the bed and gets into our laps if we sit in the right position. Shadow has declared an uneasy truce, but I caught her licking Amber's head last night, so it may turn to more than just tolerance.

They are both adorable. Even Max's habit of cuddling your neck and licking your chin is sweet.

LTS

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Matthew Edwards
Date: 03 Jan 02 - 09:43 AM

The pantomime season is now in full swing here in Britain, and the theatres are full of children (and adults) screaming at the actors: "Look behind you." The actors are all familiar from old TV shows, and it is a surprise to find that some of them are still alive, let alone still able to act. Surely Ken Dodd must be playing to a heavenly audience these days, but no he is still touring and playing the Dame up and down the country.

My eight-year-old niece and nephew have told me that the rock and roll version of "Jack and the Beanstalk" performed by the Everyman theatre company at Theatre Clwyd in Mold, North Wales, is "cool." The story of Jack reminds me of another tale from Dublin in the 1930's.

A Song for a Cow

One January day in 1936 young Michael Byrne travelled up to Dublin from Kildare instructed by his widowed mother to sell their spotted cow. She had told him firmly that he was not to accept less than five guineas but as he wandered through the market he could find no takers. The dealers laughed at Michael's accent, and made fun of him; "Five guineas! Pull the udder one!" one dealer cried out, roaring with laughter at his own wit. Inspired by this the other dealers trotted out all their best cow jokes, milking the subject for all its worth, until the spotted cow herself was seen to blush at the story of the Black Bull of Clontarf and the blind milkmaid.

Miserably Michael crept away from the market, and boarded the Underground Railway at McCracken Station, paying the obligatory halfpenny fare for the cow. He took a seat in the corner of the front carriage, and listened to a singer entertaining the company. It wasn't long before the passengers noticed Michael's long face in spite of the singer's spirited rendition of Down By The Liffeyside. The singer, who was of course none other than Peadar Kearney, came over to Michael and sympathetically poured him a tot of whiskey while Michael poured out his sad story.

Peadar was much moved by Michael's account, and declared that he should not go home to Kildare without something better to remember Dublin by. After a few moments he stood up and sang the following song.

Come gather round good people, who in Dublin town do dwell,
While I relate and communicate, as I'm about to tell.
It's all about a sorry case I'm going to tell you now,
Concerning Michael from Kildare and the tail of his spotted cow.

It was on a January morning that he took the cow to town,
By the clock face in the marketplace, the dealers looked her up and down,
Saying to young Michael Byrne, "Get back behind your plough,
And go back home to Kildare with the tail of your spotted cow.

On the banks of the Liffey young Michael then he strayed,
And by the edge of O'Connell Bridge he spied a fair young maid;
"What ails you?" cried the maiden, "and puts sorrow on your brow,
What causes you to weep and mourn with the tail of your spotted cow?"

"Come home with me, young man," she said "and I'll improve your luck."
And through the night with all her might she taught him how to whistle.
Said he, "I feel the world go round, I cannot tell you how,
God bless you for your kindness to the tail of my spotted cow."

So Michael went home to Kildare, the hero of the day,
And every maid about him played as he passed along his way,
And the streets of that fair city are packed with children now,
Thanks to the powers of Michael and the tail of his spotted cow.

Naturally Michael's mother was outraged when he returned with the cow, and no money, and singing Peadar's song. She threw him out onto the streets, and up until a few years ago he could still be heard singing The Tale of My Spotted Cow in exchange for a glass of stout.

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: mack/misophist
Date: 03 Jan 02 - 11:11 AM

A wonderful storey! I certainly hope it's true. And why can't we be more like that today?

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Hollowfox
Date: 03 Jan 02 - 04:14 PM

Misophist, have you ever tried to get a cow onto anything resembling a subway car? Can I watch while you try? *G*

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Ebbie
Date: 03 Jan 02 - 06:53 PM

Funnee! Great stories, Matthew E. Any more?

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Matthew Edwards
Date: 04 Jan 02 - 09:41 AM

Ebbie, there are some other stories in the thread linked to above (The Naming of Cats), but in the meantime here is an account of some of the personalities behind the Underground Railway.

The Four Cornered Railway

From the start of operations in 1923 the Dublin Underground Railway was governed by the four Corner brothers, with the eldest brother Mr. Lawrence H. Corner acting as Chairman and Managing Director. It was he who was responsible for compiling the Regulations of the Railway; a massive volume, which like the Ten Commandments, comprised more a list of prohibited activities than a guide to proper conduct. And, just like the Bible in the wrong hands, the Regulations provided a useful primer in illicit activities for idlers and miscreants seeking new ways to commit old crimes.

Occasionally the copious attention to detail drew the attention of the authorities. The section that provided for a segregated compartment for unwed mothers (to prevent contamination of the morals of respectable Irishwomen) earned the wrath of the Archbishop who refused to allow that such a category could exist in the new Free State. Mr. Lawrence attempted to mollify the anger of the Church by allowing free passage for priests. Unfortunately the reference in the Regulations to "unmarried Fathers" only ensured the banning of that particular edition of the Regulations by the Censorship Board.

Mr. Richard H. Corner was the Treasurer and Company Secretary, and was also responsible for drawing up the Railway Timetable. This has been described as "the greatest work of Irish fiction," but to be fair, not all the problems were of their own making.

When the Railway had originally been constructed under British rule just before the Great War provision had been made for a dual set of tracks to allow trains to travel in opposite directions. However the precarious finances of the new state only allowed enough money to lay one line of track, and a single locomotive to run on it. This meant that the train could only travel in a clockwise direction, and that the short journey from Wolfe Tone Station to Emmet Station could only be accomplished via McCracken, Napper Tandy, Fitzgerald, and Drennan stations. Delays were endemic on the line, and although the whole circuit of the route was timetabled to take precisely 46 minutes there is no record of this time ever actually being achieved outside of carefully staged trials when no passengers were carried.

The remaining Railway Board members were the younger Corner twins; Stephen William and Niall Eoghain, who were known as the "Opposite Corners" on account of their extreme difference in temperaments. Niall was a dedicated adherent of the anti-Treaty cause, and subsequently a loyal follower of De Valera and his Fianna Fáil party. For a while he insisted on speaking only in Gaelic at Board meetings until he noticed that the other brothers were simply ignoring him. He had his revenge however by insisting that the Regulations and the Timetable should be printed in bilingual editions.

Stephen was characterised by his twin as a "West Briton". He strongly supported the Free State Government and its policies, and on more than one occasion attempted to have Niall removed from the Board on account of his association with "fanatics and desperadoes."

The brothers were united however in their belief in the Railway, and its status as a modern, efficient transport system. The minutes of the Board meetings provide a fascinating account of the problems they faced, and of the solutions they devised, in this enterprise.

To be continued.

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Morticia
Date: 04 Jan 02 - 12:02 PM

This is fascinating stuff Matthew, where so you get it?

In terms of an update on the infamous Loki, I am grieved to have to tell you that she has proved herself to be more closely related to a velociraptor rather than any of the cat family...we have been forced to the conclusion that she was not abandoned on a rubbish tip but rather outcast from the furthermost reaches of Hell for general mischief and acts of war/aggression.She also plays fetch with her toys and a willing patsy...for hours.

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Áine
Date: 04 Jan 02 - 12:08 PM

Dear Matthew,

As you haven't noted any authors in your writings above, I'm assuming that these are all original works. If that's the case, would you please honour the Mudcat Storytellers' Page with their presence? ;-)

-- Áine

(P.S. I tried to send you that poem again, and got it back. Then, I started tinkering with my translation, and the holidays hit full force. There are bits I'm still not sure about, so I'm going to bring in some other friends on the project.)

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 05 Jan 02 - 05:17 AM

Morty - has Loki got telepathic powers? Max suddenly got it into his head to try and climb onto my shoulder, when I was still in my dressing gown, and I now have 4 parallel claw marks down my left breast (viewing by appointment only).

He's lost a little weight (like you can see where from!!!) and has discovered he can actually jump a bit higher than he thought, with his dicky hips....

The rest, is a rather painful history....

LTS

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Paul from Hull
Date: 05 Jan 02 - 11:18 AM

Liz,

My older one, Spike, does that too.....he LOVES being on peoples shoulders, & of late, he has taken to trying to jump from the chair arm, or wherever, ONTO the shoulder....more then once, if they have 'dodged back' instinctively, he's fallen short & they have ended up getting raked much the same way as you have (How do I make an Appointment to View, btw?....*G*)

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Paul from Hull
Date: 06 Jan 02 - 08:50 PM

Hmmmmm.....'no answer' was the stern reply!

Ok Liz......*sigh*

*LOL*

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 07 Jan 02 - 02:33 AM

I didn't answer because I was a) having a party, and was busy, and b) visiting the aforementioned Morty and Loki. Whatever Morty says, isn't true. Loki was just a normal happy, frisky kitten, who played nicely and prettily and is absolutely beautiful - looks a lot like my Max, (black and white) but is about 1/4 the size! She looked sooooo cute curled up on the bean bag dinner tray, and she is delightful. A swap was discussed but Morty wasn't happy about the reciprocal arrangement (Bratling Phoebe in exchange..... she refused on the grounds that at least Loki sits still SOME of the time....), so we decided against it. [NB Morty, if you change your mind we can be there in 2 hours.....]

Paul if you look at your monitor at about 10.30pm GMT tonight, you will be able to see them, as I will be sitting here steaming gently after my bath....

LTS

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Paul from Hull
Date: 07 Jan 02 - 08:14 AM

Ooooooooohhh!!!

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Paul from Hull
Date: 07 Jan 02 - 08:27 AM

*comes rushing back in after reading Gareth's 'Mudcatter of the Year' Awards thread......*

"...& do I get to tweak them as well, in 'Spaws absence?" - he said, looking hopeful...

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Paul from Hull
Date: 07 Jan 02 - 06:33 PM

*sigh* Well I been here just over an hour....

*L*

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 07 Jan 02 - 07:27 PM

Oops, got offer of a free dinner, but if you are quick, here they are!!!

LTS

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Paul from Hull
Date: 07 Jan 02 - 08:02 PM

*LOL* Oooooooo.....Ta!

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Matthew Edwards
Date: 08 Jan 02 - 06:27 PM

My apologies for the delay in continuing this thread, but Mudcat Trouble and Song Challenges have intervened, not to mention the need to earn a living. In the meantime Liz and Paul have been behaving disgracefully with talk of pussies and titties! I hadn't previously thought it possible to lower the tone of Mudcat.

Before examining the Railway archives for the minutes of the Board meetings there is one interesting story that ought to be told.

A Hooley in the Tunnel

Some time in 1935 Leo Rowsome had a conversation with Séamus Ó Duilearga, the director of the newly formed Irish Folklore Commission. As a result the two of them approached Séamus Clandillon, the director of the Irish radio station 2RN, with a proposal for a series of broadcast concerts of Irish music, whose recordings would be held by the Folklore Commission. 2RN was probably the only institution with enough money to fund such an enterprise, although it tended to favour the music of trios and quartets as well as the new ceilidh bands over the work of individual players.

The accountants at 2RN took one look at the proposal, and declared it "fiscally irresponsible in the extreme." The idea was whittled down to a single afternoon event to be held in Phoenix Park the following year, sponsored by 2RN, but with admission charges in order to placate the accountants. Leo Rowsome enthusiastically took charge of the project, and by word of mouth, letters, telegrams, and even a couple of telephonic exchanges he invited all the musicians he knew. They in turn invited other musicians, who extended the invitation to yet others, so that by the early spring every pennywhistle player from Donegal down to Kerry knew of the event – and expected to be given star billing as well. Somebody started a rumour that Michael Coleman himself would be coming over, and Rowsome said nothing to deny the rumour in order to encourage attendance.

The big day came at last, and it even stopped raining for a while. The Aughrim Slopes Trio of Paddy Kelly, Jack Mulkere, and Joe Mills opened with their popular signature tune of Lament After the Battle of Aughrim. James Ennis led his Fingal Trio on the pipes with The Salamanca Reel, before Michael Grogan stepped up with his accordeon to reel off The Drunken Tailor followed of course by Teetotaller. Frank O'Higgins took up his fiddle to play Do You Want Any More? and without waiting for an answer went straight into a medley of reels. Then Neilie Boyle slipped in a couple of hornpipes, and so it went on until finally Leo Rowsome took the stage and played The Copperplate Reel on the pipes in a way that astounded the whole crowd.

There were small groups of musicians huddled together in odd corners of the Park. Johnny Doran gave a lively rendition of Colonel Fraser to a few privileged onlookers, while elsewhere Pádraig O'Keeffe demonstrated Kerry Slides to a bemused audience of Dublin street urchins. There were stepdancers all over, relishing the opportunity to practice the skills which they hadn't used since the Dance Halls Act had been enforced the previous year. From the nearby Zoo the sounds of various animals mingled with the music. At last, long after sunset, the Siamsa Mor Band took the stage, and after playing a few reels finished the proceedings with The Soldier's Song.

The crowd trooped down to the nearest station, and boarded the Underground for home. Suddenly Bart Henry picked up his fiddle and began playing his Favourite. He was answered by the Pages playing The High Road to Galway, which young Seamus Ennis immediately countered with The Rocky Road to Dublin as the train moved off. Neilie Boyle played Pigeon on the Gate, and then Michael Gorman showed him exactly how he thought it should be played. The two fiddlers glared at each other until Tommy Whyte from Ballinakill struck up with Merrily Kissed the Quaker's Wife. Leo Rowsome played an extraordinarily syncopated version of The Blackbird, accompanied by a bones player, that seemed to last for ages.

Nobody got off the train, and as word spread that the music was going on people from the streets bought platform tickets and at each station some musicians emerged from the train to play to the crowded assembly on the platform. The train ran on through the night, but had to stop to refuel several times, and also had to call at St. James Gate Brewery more than once to replenish supplies of stout for the bar. There wasn't a bodhran or bouzouki in sight, but Flann O'Brien introduced a couple of Greek zither players who were resting from his novel; Timmy O and Dan Eos, who were joined, by a Spanish lady about the hour of twelve at night, called Dona Ferentes.

Finally the Monday morning commuters appeared on the platforms to get to work. The tired musicians straggled from the train and emerged at Emmet Station from where Leo Rowsome led them to Bewley's Café playing Boil The Breakfast Early.

If Radió Éireann (as 2RN was by now known) did make any recordings of the music these disappeared at some time on the infamous tip on the roof of their Henry Street offices. The accountants, who later went on to found The Guinness School of Creative Accounting, managed to bury the bar expenditure somewhere in the Petty Cash. The Dublin Underground Railway made a handsome profit from the night, which went a long way toward filling the Locomotive Replacement Fund.

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: CapriUni
Date: 09 Jan 02 - 01:29 AM

What a great story, Mathew! Thanks for sharing it!

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Matthew Edwards
Date: 09 Jan 02 - 08:40 AM

A Meeting of the Board

Minutes of the Board of Directors of the Dublin Underground Railway
1 April 1937

Present:
Mr L H Corner, Chairman and Managing Director.
Mr R H Corner, Treasurer and Company Secretary.
Mr N E Corner, Director of Staffing.
Mr S W Corner, Director of Operations.

Carriage of Livestock
The continuing problem presented by the obligation to carry livestock was acknowledged. In spite of the new national Constitution, which repealed or amended much of the legislation imposed by the former administration, the Statutes of the City of Dublin of 1171 still prevailed, and compelled all operators of transriverine crossings to carry livestock.
It was regretted that it would not be feasible to invoke the clause in Poyning's Law, which forbade the entry of any O or Mac within the Pale for the purposes of trade upon pain of death.
The suggestion was made that a moving staircase, known as an "escalator", be installed at each station – as was used in a similar railway system in another country to the east.
Resolved That moving staircases be installed at each station, and that the Regulations be amended to require all animals to be carried by passengers on such staircases.

Permanent Way Sinking Fund
The treasurer reported that the balances in the Permanent Way Sinking Fund, and also in the Locomotive Replacement Fund, were in a healthy state, and that, barring emergencies, it would be possible to commence operating a service on two lines of track within the near future.

Renaming the Railway
It was agreed that the name of the Railway should be gaelicised in the spirit of the new era. Raille Lingus was proposed, as was Baile Atha Cliath Udar ar Raille de Seirbhis (Dublin Rail Service Authority), but neither met with unanimous agreement; the latter proposal being objected to on the grounds that BACUARDS might be mischievously interpreted. It was finally agreed unanimously that the family name be incorporated in the new designation.
Resolved That the Railway be henceforth known as Cuinne Lingus.

To be continued

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Aidan Crossey
Date: 09 Jan 02 - 09:02 AM

Jaysus, Matthew! I don't know ... a writer that would let earning a living get in the way of his craft. Why don't you follow the good example set by Mr O'Nolan (like I do!) and use the hours when you should otherwise be gainfully employed, working up your stories on your employer's time.

Unless of course you're self-employed in which case ... sure it's only an oul' roof. And food and clothes? Do you think they're really more necessary than keeping your public amused?

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Matthew Edwards
Date: 11 Jan 02 - 09:16 AM

Thanks for that message derry, I have to confess that I do spend some time at work thinking up stories or songs, but generally the demands of the job are such (caring for adults with a learning disability), that my full time attention is needed.

In the meantime I hope everybody has recovered from Spaw's stag party for Joe. Some of the stuff going on in that Jell-o pit was mind-bending! Anyway, here's another story from the Dublin Underground to be going on with.

A Hotbed of Depravity

Following the decision to rename the Railway, the company placed an advertisement in the Irish Press. This contained a drawing of a smiling young couple on the new moving staircase at Fitzgerald Station, under the startling caption: Go Down With Cuinne Lingus.

The early morning edition of the newspaper had barely reached the streets when the editor received a telephone call from the Archbishop's Palace, demanding that the issues be recalled, and the offensive advertisement removed immediately. Mystified, the editor complied, and stopped the presses so that all the later editions, apart from a few which had already gone on the milk train to Tralee, appeared with a large blank space on page five.

The editor telephoned the Palace to report his success, and asked for an explanation as to how the advertisement had so offended His Grace. The young Dominican at the Palace who took the editor's call gave a detailed and scholarly explanation, with thorough definitions from Latin and Greek. After this exposition of etymology the poor editor was no wiser, but sat in his office all day with a worried expression on his face. When he returned home that night he told the story of his miserable day to his wife. After dinner, when the servants had withdrawn, he asked her, "What on earth is this Cunny Lingus anyway?" His wife had had the benefit of a classical education at an expensive convent school, so she took him upstairs and showed him.

The next day the editor went into work, while his wife remained at home with a smile on her face that puzzled all the domestic staff. The editor summoned his senior staff into his office, where he gave this memorable address.

"We must not go down on this hotbed of depravity. That would be giving head to every clever dick in the country. We must show that this newspaper is a stalwart and erect pillar of decency; we shall not descend to those muffled depths. This is a family newspaper, fighting in the cause of morality and patriotism; our job is to trade blow for blow with the forces of immorality and oppression, and, by God, we shall lick them!"

The Attorney General wished to prosecute the newspaper and the Railway under the Indecent Publications Act, but was advised that it would be against the public interest to have such unseemly matters aired. However as a mark of displeasure both the editor and the Chairman of the Railway were quietly removed from their positions as Knights of the Grand Order of St Patrick.

All the stationery and signs of the Railway bearing the new name were destroyed, and the company continued under the name of Raille Lingus. A few platform nameplates escaped the destruction, and these, along with the rare copies of the Tralee edition of the Irish Press, now fetch high prices at auctions.

Some memory of this seems to survive in popular speech in Dublin. You may overhear a Dublin housewife shyly tell her neighbour, "My old fella was on the Dublin Underground last night," and if the experience was especially pleasurable, she may add, "and he stopped at all the stations!"

Subject: RE: A Cat and Nine Tales
From: Aidan Crossey
Date: 11 Jan 02 - 11:08 AM

Well, there you go, Matthew ... me and my big mouth. It's chastening to see that some of us are doing something more rewarding than piloting an oul' desk day in day out where it wouldn't matter a bat whether we turned up for work or not.

I like the way you bring these oul' stories to a head (oo-er missus). They evoke the same sort of feel as the master's Keats and Chapman stories.