My deepest sympathies @Juhniallio sounds like you were blessed with a wonderful dad.
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Sorry for your loss @Juhniallio. May he RIP. Look after yourself for the next few weeks.
Lovely tribute @Rocko.
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Thanks lads and @rocko in particular. I know fellas have said it before but itās amazing how much the condolences of strangers on the internet helps. I tried to reply at the time but I just couldnāt and I wanted to say something but I didnt know what to say. The last 2 days have flown by, a mixture of desperate heartache and absolute joy. We got together on Monday for a wonderful night celebrating dad, pissing ourselves laughing at the stories. One or two lads on here said theyād like to hear about him so heres a bit. Feel free to stop reading now. Itās self indulgent and rose tinted but who wouldnt see it that way.
He seemed to live a wild enough life pre settling down but then put the head down and worked like a fucker for a while too. Having climbed out of Nenagh via Waterford he split his single life between the Damer theatre and Hartigans bar. Doing shows and celebrating doing shows. As mama J said today, heād a huge passion for theatre and a ferocious passion for pints. There was a night a duck was stolen from Stephenās green and taken home and cooked. Apparently the ringleader went on to be a judge. A couple of days later the papers were full of the story of a rare mandarin duck missing from the green. They couldnt have nicked any normal mallard! Dad always said it was the toughest thing he ever ate.
They married and fast forwarded through 5 kids in under 7 years(and a chaser a few years later) and dad was working in industrial relations. This apparently involved hard ass talks by day and then straight to a pub with both sides for pints and the real talks. Dad swore this was an extremely effective technique. He loved those days. Weāve a load of sketches in the gaff that RuairƬ Quinn drew during late night talks. Hes a surprisingly good artist! Dad was nominated for the LRC at one stage and was supported by both the unions and ibec which was rare but it was vetoed by a fella who had fallen out with Dad and tried to scupper dad a bit.
It was long days and late nights so he had to make up for it at weekends. Driving all over Dublin to all our football matches, demanding lads use both feet non stop, standing in the pissing rain in his favourite duffel coat and an array of fashion supplied exclusively by Guineys on Talbot street. Heāll be forever frozen in my mind sitting on the couch , jeans hanging off, with a big pot of water peeling a giant bag of spuds for his small army and having the craic. Unless Ireland were playing rugby in which case he became deranged, screaming at anyone who went near his line of vision! Itās what I imagine a fella in the Ratoath inn to be like these days. Saturday evenings was often a swim at the local pool followed by mass and then racing into the car and back to the gaff for the A team.
The holidays were spent swimming and fishing and rowing around lough derg from Dromineer boat club, touring the beaches and towns of west Klare and every year for about 10 years in a caravan on the beach in galway. A little bĆ²ithrƬn about a mile before Spiddal. Swimming and fishing and catching eels and dad over seeing it all from behind his newspaper with his famous straw hat on his head. Dragging us in to mass sa SpidĆØal to the old priest who shut his eyes when he gave you communion so you had to leap up and grab the water with your teeth. Dad fuming at us pissing ourselves laughing.
He reached the top in work and began to mellow considerably as he cruised towards retirement with style. He didnt have much time for fools and bullshitters and had a lovely story about having Charlie McCreevy seething. He didnt rate him at all.
He retired at 59. Fifty-fucking-nine! I can only dream of it. He then concentrated on all the things that mattered most. Golf, Munster rugby, tipp hurling , pints, holidays with mam and buzzing off his kids and pints.
When we hit our teenage years they decided to build an extension. What started out as an attempt to regain control over his own TV led to the construction of the fabled left wing cc @Funtime. Instead of more privacy dad got half the neighbourhood using his gaff as a youth club. Heād stroll out a few times over an evening or on the way back from the pub to have the craic or take the piss out of us. āEvening gentlemen, fancy meeting you hereā. Heād have a quick check to make sure he knew exactly what it was he was turning a blind eye to. And heād only fuck us out of it if we were really taking the piss.
Even as adults, he still went out to watch us play on the green and loved to tease us about a misplaced pass or bad miss. One of his chief sports was abusing Leinster fans about rugby. This stopped abruptly at the end of the 2000s but he had a lovely run of it.
He knew what was important for him in life. Kicking with both feet, getting to know your butcher, learning to drive, learning to cook meat properly. Throughout our 20s weād come home on sundays for dadās roasts. Lamb, beef or pork cooked to perfection. Roast spuds in a style nobody else ever did. Lashing of gravy and wine and debate and slagging and dad making sure that all the ladies had drinks but also that his sons werenāt taking the piss with his booze. Those were the days that shaped our family.
He played golf at least 5 days a week and always 36 holes on a Wednesday. Royal Dublin in the morning and malahide afternoon. It was kind of like a fitness test for himself. One of the only times I saw him properly flustered was when I stood up on the tee at Royal Dublin and smashed a ball off the back off a tractor. As it whistled backwards past us we turned and saw a few lads who dad knew were committee. āPick that shaggin ball up and throw it down the fairway prontoā. He loved playing with and against us and would give you decent tips but if it looked like your were getting close to beating him heād turn up the pressure with a few choice comments at vital moments. He loved beating us at golf.
Heād rarely tell you what to do but would occasionally tell you what he thought was really important and wonder whether it might be time for you to think that way too. He always made sure we voted but would rarely if ever tell you who he voted for. You make up your own minds, heād say.
Theres a million memories in there and 99% of them are good. He lived his life exactly how he wanted, with the people he wanted to be with and surrounded by us. He had no regrets. I think weād all take that.
OƬche mhaith Dad. Codladh sĆ mh.
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Thatās it. Thatās it right there.
Iāve no doubt heās proud of you all. Iād be after reading that. Go well Mr J. You raised a good one.
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POTY. I didnāt want to give you the like until Iād read the whole thing. Your father sounds like he lived an exemplary life and certainly left behind at least one outstanding son but Iām very sorry that he liked rugby.
(I need the name of that duck stealing judge)
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I lived the years 1985 to 1987 entirely in duffle coats supplied by Guineys of Talbot Street, even indoors. We didnāt have a chimney, our central heating was about as effective as the non-existent chimney, and the summers never arrived in those years.
A much under rated garment.
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I think my dad had some sort of sponsorship deal with them because he wore nothing else other than what was purchased there.
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I dont have the name. Mcsomething. Family courts. My sister was up in front of him once and he was very easy on her despite having a reputation for being very harsh on her sort.
@Juhniallio havenāt been in this thread for a few days. Sorry for your loss. Lovely tribute there.
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Guineyās is a noble shop. A vestige of proper old time Dublin. As is the entire Talbot Street/North Earl Street strip. Even if it isnāt any more, it still feels like it. Although it needs more Boyerās.
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Lovely stuff. A character it seems. Didnāt know about the North Tipp blood in you 
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The post should be in āthings that are rightā really
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Sure nearly all of suburban Dublin is country lads who settled. Grandparents from Clare, Mayo, Sligo and Dublin
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Just catching up on this thread now @Juhniallio,sorry to hear your dad has passed he sounded like a great father.May he RIP.
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A lovely tribute. A full life. Well lived. Weād all love to be remembered that way @Juhniallio
May he Rest in peace.
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Bravo, sir. Bravo.
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What a meaningful post. Your dad was a class act. Great generosity of spirit in your family as I have discovered more than once. Smiling to myself as I read that your dad was "demanding lads use both feet non stop.āā Clearly worked extremely well. Your family possessed embarrassingly better technical ability than other families in Martello and it was always a relief to be on a team with you. Argumentative playing football but endearing. 99% of memories with your dad being good is positive going and you have not lived if all memories are positive. My thoughts are with you and your great family.
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