Maurice’s mother here again. My little boy in Lisnapookybawna is making very slow progress, he had three funerals last week and they played hell with his study, he lost at least four days. As a councillor, if one wants to hold on to one’s seat you have to attend funerals, if you don’t, you’ll be reminded the next time you go looking for votes. Maurice’s three funerals and all this talk about Brexit, reminds me of the lead-up to our joining the EEC in 1973. There were meetings up and down the country about what would and wouldn’t be acceptable when we joined ‘Europe.’ I remember my late husband coming back from a meeting in Clonmel and declaring that this EEC would be the death of rural Ireland.
“A fella in a long coat, greased back hair and rimless glasses stood up and told us the first thing that will have to stop are the long rural funerals,” he said. “The man told us that with all the grants comin’ from Europe farmers will be like civil servants, clockin’ in and clockin’ out. There certainly will be no such thing as disappearin’ for two days to bury a neighbour or a distant relation.”