Hello and welcome to this week’s Ireland’s Own. This week we take a look at further historical treasures of Ireland, as we bring you part two of Gerry Breen’s tour of the historical and architectural gems which make up the Ireland’s Ancient East tourist trail, beginning in Co. Kildare, from where the country was once ruled.
Fran Brady describes a stately house with a splendid view as he takes a walk around the grounds of Ardgillan Castle in County Dublin. Anthony Costelloe traces the career of Burt Lancaster, the Hollywood legend with Irish roots, and Fr. Augustine Hourigan C.P., offers some advice to those praying to Our Heavenly Father.
In his Role of the Irish in WW2 series, Con McGrath profiles Galway-man General Sir Charles Henry Gairdner, who was later appointed Governor of Western Australia. Cathal Coyle recalls the history of New York’s Ed Sullivan Theater, opened 90 years ago, and profiles the man behind the name.
Aileen Atcheson returns with more tips for gardeners, and Pauline Murphy recalls the Tureengarriv Glen Ambush on the Cork-Kerry border on 28th January 1921, and its tragic consequences.
Eugene Brennan recalls the rise to prominence of the O’Connor clan in San Antonio, while Melanie Ward continues her Islands of the Erne series. This week she turns the focus on Galloon Island.
In his piece, ‘Cats In Movieland’, MJ Wells got to wondering to what extent movies had honoured our smaller feline friends. The book under review this month is Days Without End by Sebastian Barry, and William Thompson, the west-Cork socialist, is the subject of a profile by Eugene Daly.
We have all this for you to enjoy alongside your weekly favourites, plus much more. Enjoy the read, and the warm weather, and I look forward to chatting to you soon.
Seán Nolan, Editor, Ireland’s Own
Sing along with your favourite Irish songs – The Jug of Punch Being on the twenty-third of June, Oh as I sat weaving all at my loom, Being on the twenty-third of June, Oh as I sat weaving all at my loom, I heard a thrush singing on yon bush…And the song she sang was the jug of punch, What more pleasure can a boy desire, Than sitting down, oh beside the fire, What more pleasure can a boy desire, Than sitting down, oh beside the fire, And in his hand, oh a jug of punch, And on his knee a tidy wench