Bloomsday in Athy

On Bloomsday, every 16 June for the past number of years, I have taken down my copy of James Joyce’s epic work Ulysses with the intention of reading it cover-to-cover. Given that the Penguin edition runs to just over 1,000 pages, I estimate that at 20 pages a day, I could complete the work by late July or early August at worst. 

I have to admit defeat in my past attempts, never getting beyond the first 50 pages, and I doubt if I am alone in that regard. 

The book is, essentially, a record of one day in the life of Leopold Bloom, his thoughts, meetings, observations and conversations. This came to mind as I sat down to write the Athy Notes for this week’s edition, as I had my own ‘Bloomsday’ today.

The day started well, a breakfast of coffee, scrambled free range eggs and some wholemeal toast but no mutton kidney, apologies to Mr. Joyce. Having consumed the sustenance, I turned on my computer to begin compiling the notes, but there is a problem, the screen is blank, and try as I could, ctrl,alt,delete/turn it off, turn it on, there was no reviving it - the beast was dead. 

Thus started the pilgrimage. James Mahon computers on Stanhope Street was the first port of call. Tom McEvoy looked at my machine: ‘Was it working before it stopped?’ he asked, I assured him that it was. ‘Leave it with me so and give me a call back in the afternoon.’ I left the shop and went in to Sam Sunderland’s, where I argued the toss on the cost of a packet of steel wool with Pat Murtagh, I won.

It being a Tuesday, I decided to walk across the almost completed Emily Square to the market, how wonderful the town hall looks, the stonework cleaned and repointed and the clock still reading 3.25, but I suppose it is correct twice a day. The market has shrunk, due to the ongoing construction work in the area, but there were a few sellers about. Rooting through a box of books, I came across an old Ladybird book Pond Life, the cover bringing back memories of my old biology teacher Pat McArdle. 

We did not go on many school tours back in the day, but Mr McArdle would bring us out of the classroom a couple of times a year to explore the flora and fauna along the riverbank and armed with the Ladybird book we would learn about Water Spiders, Hover Flys, reeds, rushes and Water Boatmen. He was a wonderful teacher and a true gentleman.

I dropped into Square Coffee and ordered a tea, I am not a big coffee drinker, preferring the more earthy flavours of tea — no milk, no sugar. I sat outside and was soon joined by Denis Rowan, out for his morning walk. We chatted about Liverpool winning the Premiership and then the talk turned to the Sheerin cup. I told him I had been to the final in 1975 with my father and brother. 

We stood in the Richmond Road stand on that wonderful day for Athy Town AFC. Denis told me about the recent trip the players had made to Tolka Park and how they had got to visit the dressing rooms and once again walk out onto the pitch beside the river Tolka, great memories. 

I still had some time before going back for the computer, so I went to Aldi to do some shopping. I met Una and Brendan Conroy there. Una and Brendan ran a shop on Leinster Street for what seemed like forever. I bought my first television there in 1986, a Schneider 14-inch colour tv and numerous pieces of Ainsley pottery for girls’ 18th birthday presents. 

That was standard procedure back in the day. We chatted about the weather, Kildare football, grandkids and a myriad of stuff before a sudden cloudburst scattered us. Heading back to pick up the computer, I reflected on my morning, on the people I had met and the conversations I had, a lot better than a text or voice message or some silly Instagram post.

So, if you have the time, take a wander through this wonderful town we call home, stop and chat along the way to some of the friendliest, funniest most well-informed people you will meet on a day’s walk and, yes the computer was deloused, defragmented oiled and embrocated by Tom, otherwise you would not be reading this today.