Eoghan Harris: Departing west Cork for Waterford feels criminal
ALTHOUGH I am bedded down in Baltimore, I am already looking forward to the following weekend and my trip to Waterford. After all, my wife is already there, picking berries on her parents' little fruit farm -- her mother Mairead makes heavenly jam -- and the Tall Ships show there is a wider world than west Cork.
Meantime, I am enjoying an early coffee outside La Jolie Brise and listening on my little pocket radio to John Bowman. He is looking at the life of Frank Duff, whose Legion of Mary I joined in the 1950s from a myriad of motives: social idealism, sublimated sexuality, but mostly for something to do in a moribund society.
As result I became addicted to small pressure groups. Seamus O Tuathail, the brilliant editor of United Irishman, remarked many years ago that the Legion of Mary handbook was a manual for revolutionaries. Like Sean South of Garryowen, I was also a member of An Realt, the Legion's Irish-speaking branch.