Leslie is a he.
Careful now……
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You’ve lost a good Fé-na lady I see, her brothers would be stalwarts of the club.
Was it yet another victim of the big C?
Correct on all 3 observations. Sad case all round, she lost her husband to the other national affliction about 10 years ago but battled on before catching this other curse. A great girl entirely, a stalwart of the then fledgling LGFA she brought the spark of divilment we’d associate with her brothers…
What I’ll remember most about her was her laugh - it began at her feet and bellowed up…Fly high with the angels Marian, you were a diamond.
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I heard that today and wasn’t aware of the link. My father would only drink in their house in Kesh - must have been a FF thing.
Might have been. Ben McKeon contested the Co.Council elections on the FF ticket in 1985 in the then Dromahair LEA but wasn’t successful. Ben is dead about 18 months, he’d have been the late Marian’s father in law. Your late Dad must have been friendly with him.
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He was. Very friendly with him.
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Ben’s wife Peggy is still alive - she’s a big number at this stage. Nice woman.
I often visited their public house in Kesh with my Dad on a Sunday evening. The son Ciaran was running it with his wife. Ben and his wife would be there beside the open fire. My Dad, and me by extension, were always welcomed. My Dad would call over to Ben and his wife and have a chat.
Francie Gilmartin RIP would often be in there also. Nice man too.
It was a fine place at that time with the bar and lounge,. Is it sold now do you know or just leased? Locals from Funshinagh I believe are in the chair.
You’ve covered it in a nutshell. Francie Gilmartin Lord have mercy on him was a great character, I have a mighty oul’ yarn of canvassing with him and an altercation with Joe McCartin and Pat the Cope who became infuriated with Francie’s positioning outside Pairc Seán the day of a Connacht championship match. They were on the European trail but we were there first and between us all we forced them to fuck off with their luxury coaches.
A local, Mel Heeran, purchased the place, spent a ball of money on creating state of the art bedrooms and in fairness making a fine job of it. He has another dependable local managing the operation and its tipping along readily. The bould Mel has some kind of maintenance contract with the Greater London boroughs and doesn’t appear short of bobs.
He’ll scrawl down the name and KESH but I’m unsure whether he can comfortably add the CARRIGAN part of it. Nonetheless - a gent.
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My Dad used to go to Kesh every Tuesday to get something stamped in the barracks there. There was a guard there who ‘would do you no harm’. Donoghue I think.
That was late 80s or early 90s. Even at that young age I found it a depressing spot. Then it exploded - mainly due to Mr Foley in Gerties. It took a lot of custom from Mohill and the rumours were that Mohill publicans clubbed together to keep Foley out of buying a pub in Mohill.
I recall there always being a quirky thing around Paddys Day parades. Backwards parades, parades in the pub - always bound to feature on RTE News that evening.
There was tragedy with a young lad from Mohill drowning in the lake. Shocking.
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Gda Donohoe certainly wouldn’t do you any harm but he knew whether your car was taxed or your gun was licensed and might “remind” you innocently to regularise things. He knew all of the happenings to the finest detail in his bailiwick but always left time to take corrective action.
He was very pally with the aforementioned Foley, he was subcontracting to him when all them houses were built. Donohoe was operating a block laying enterprise in his spare time (23.5 hrs per day).
Gas cunts about covers it. I have great time for both - a pair of scamps.
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You’ve grabbed the concept 
Rural Garda stamping a few forms between 10 and 10.30 on a Tuesday, a spin round the couple of parishes on a Saturday afternoon incorporating pints at any of the 5 watering holes in his territory, writes a report to the Super and then the rest is his own.
He certainly wasn’t exactly feared, but by God he was respected. He rocked in to me one Saturday evening in early November, equipped with shotgun, to tell me he’d seen ne’er a pheasant on the land. He hadn’t sought access or anything, I produced a glass of whiskey and reported that all my isolated neighbours were fit and well and we hopped balls back and forth. That how we rocked then, no harm no fowl. 
Simpler times.
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McGahern wrote books about it.
His former residence is currently on the market.
Sumptuous, palatial country residence. A once in a lifetime chance etc….
One can see from the Persian rugs the breadth of his lavish lifestyle…
This cut of an auctioneer Gordon Hughes has a savage imagination, no wonder he was a county councillor for a while. “A 1 bedroom cottage” FFS…
It’s a site basically.A lot easier to get planning seeing as there’s already a house there.
Oh I know that but it’s the spiel “1 bedroom cottage” that irks me with Hughes. He’s from somewhere in Roscommon originally and was one of the gang of 6 (including the daft cunt Wisely who reversed a truck into the Soviet embassy) who opposed the housing of Syrians in the town.
A jumped up little prick who was once a FG councillor….
But back on track - it’s rural living at its best, rural Newtowngore 
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Newtowngore Engineering put up a 3 bay hayshed up for us back in 89 or 90.Are they still on the go