… Life is for living! We’ll be long enough pushing up the daisies to be wearing the hush puppies, watching Fair City or joining a men’s shed at 70! I did the parenting bit all on my own-e-o and cared for the grandchildren although as the old cliché goes, if I loved them that much I’d have had them first. Just being facetious, I love them to bits. One in Vancouver and another in Australia; one nursing, two at college, one a wee farmer to be and sadly one we lost too young! But they like to travel to broaden their horizons as I still do at 72! Last week I left Renville village at 12:40 to catch the 13:00 train at Oranmore station for Heuston in Dublin, like many stations named after an executed 1916 leader. For the first time this millennium I was taking the coach and ferry to Scotland for a Celtic game. Yes it was way back in the final year of the 20th century when I travelled on the Donegal Association coach which left Gaoth Dobhair, picked us up in Termon and many more in Letterkenny, Derry & Dungiven, over Glenshane where hunger striker Francis Hughes was shot and captured near the Ponderosa.
