Taken from the Sunday World, August 14th, 1988
It all started with a trip for bread….
A grand sojourn in Galway at the weekend on the shores of Lough Corrib with Joan and Clive Culleton.
On Saturday afternoon we needed a loaf of bread, or two, so we sped across the vast expanse of the lake to Oughterard; up the little river and tied off against the bank.
Into town on foot, to find a hive of activity. We bumped into Roisin and Sean Grimley, on their bikes from three miles out to do their shopping. We sat down outside the Boat Inn to have a quick drink, only to discover that we were in the midst of a German film crew doing something or other ethnic.
Camera and lights
Needless to say, the passers-by, seeing a camera and lights and a busy crew and Kathleen Watkins and Gaybo sitting there, immediately decided that we were doing a “faces and places” on the spot, and they got very interested indeed.
That took a bit of clarifying, and then that proprietor (of the Boat Inn, not the German film crew) Margaret Donnellan, decent woman, insisted on us having a drink on her; then Mr. Keogh from over opposite insisted that we have a drink on him, in his delightful emporium, and we could hardly refuse — it wouldn’t have been manners. So that took a bit more time.
Mr. McGeogh’s butcher shop
On the way back to the boat, we passed Mr. McGeogh’s butcher shop and simply could not resist his medal-winning black and white puddings and sausages. That involved more discussion time, so it was the mercy of God we got back to the boat at all. Back across the ten miles of Lough Corrib at a fast pace; it had taken us from around 3 pm to eight o-clock at night to get a loaf of bread, but Lord, we had fun doing it.
They killed us with kindness and hospitality in Oughterard and we were grateful. The only sadness was that all day Saturday and all day Sunday, which was a sizzler, there was not a single boat to be seen on that vast expanse of beautiful water, because of the rod licence row, what a pity!
And what a loss in such superb Irish Summer weather. God knows we don’t get much of it, and it grieved me to it going to waste like that.