The Weather Thread


Not a taxi to be had in Dublin.


They are all watching Cheltenham.
Except the black lads.


At the moment we are looking at a bit of snow for the Eastern coastal counties again for Saturday night into Sunday. Nothing on the scale of two weeks ago but a large enough snowfall for March, maybe 10cm. The rest of the country will be largely unaffected. The situation could easily change as it wouldn’t take much a shift to change it from snow to rain.


Should we tool up just in case?


Are we talking about possible Hurling League QF’s being cancelled on Sunday?


Will I be able to get to Flower Lodge on Sunday?


It’s very borderline what will happen at the moment, if it all came down as snow then it’s possible the Wexford and Dublin matches might be in doubt, I’d put it at a 30% chance of them cancelled.


You’ll be fine.


Cheers pal.


Please keep us updated mate, it’s important work you’re doing here.


What about Aughrim?


A tough place to go.


You’ll be fine. Your car has a grand big boot


Potential for snow alright, it’s very borderline but again I’m saying it should be ok.


After Aughrim - Emily Lawless

She said, “They gave me of their best,
They lived, they gave their lives for me;
I tossed them to the howling waste,
And flung them to the foaming sea.”

She said, “I never gave them aught,
Not mine the power, if mine the will;
I let them starve, I let them bleed,—
They bled and starved, and loved me still.”

She said, “Ten times they fought for me,
Ten times they strove with might and main,
Ten times I saw them beaten down,
Ten times they rose, and fought again.”

She said, “I stayed alone at home,
A dreary woman, grey and cold;
I never asked them how they fared,
Yet still they loved me as of old.”

She said, “I never called them sons,
I almost ceased to breathe their name,
Then caught it echoing down the wind,
Blown backwards from the lips of Fame.”

She said, “Not mine, not mine that fame;
Far over sea, far over land,
Cast forth like rubbish from my shores,
They won it yonder, sword in hand.”

She said, “God knows they owe me nought,
I tossed them to the foaming sea,
I tossed them to the howling waste,
Yet still their love comes home to me.”


Eachdhroim an tslaghdán.


Wrong Aughrim


Still snow of the sides of roads up there last Monday. Cunt of a place.


RTÉ scraping the end of the barrel here with a documentary composed of news footage from two weeks ago and interviews with grannies.