I was torn between book and brook
Much of the talk in this page last week was about the aftermath of World War Two, especially in the context of Cork's fair city. Of course academic life went on: I believe that the hardship of the times made us better students.
Fuel was very scarce. A man not unknown to me did his best to make up for the lack. He was known as The Rancher. He was a big, powerful man who went around the streets selling firewood from a handcart. His slogan became part of folklore: "If you wish to taste Hell on earth, buy my blocks."
Emboldened by his success as a salesman, he stood for election to The Corporation. He got 27 votes. He demanded a recount -- he didn't get elected.