I think Operation Transformation would have killed me only that the Beast from the East and Storm Emma intervened.

I already described the rabbit food diet we suffered under and now I’ll take you through the physical side of the torture campaign. As you know, Sergeant McKready was in charge of that end of things and he took to his task like a hound after a lame fox.

He was gentle enough to start with, but as time went on he drove us to the brink of heart attack.

The first morning we were all summoned to the GAA pitch at half six, it felt like the middle of the night. Not only were us four leaders there, namely Fr Barney, Moll Gleeson, Ed Cantillon and my good self, but every fitness freak in the village togged out along, with a few ordinary people who badly needed to shed a few pounds. As far as the Sergeant was concerned the four leaders were there to be made an example of and he didn’t spare us.

He started with stretches and physical jerks that nearly did me in. Poor Moll groaned audibly with every move, while Fr Barney prayed with a ferocity I never heard.

I thought the Lord himself would appear to take us out of our misery, but he didn’t.

We then had to do four laps of the pitch running, walking and turning around in circles like marionettes.

That latter part of the exercise flattened me. Just as we were passing one of the goalmouths, McKready blew his whistle and ordered us to spin and as I did I lost my footing and ended up on my backside in the muck. Moll Gleeson took a fit of laughing at my misfortune, but let me tell you it was no joke to be sitting there with your undercarriage marinating in muddy water on a freezing February morning.

Soon afterwards it was Moll’s turn. We were again ordered to twirl by the drill sergeant, whereupon Ms Gleeson got a reeling in her head and twisted herself into a bush. It took five people to extricate her and her crocheted scarf from the thorns and while it should’ve been my turn to laugh, I took advantage of her misfortune to lean on my knees and catch my breath.

I got home that morning and went straight for the bathroom, where I spent half an hour in the shower, I never felt so relieved to be warm and clean.

Two days later we were out again at cockcrow, this time on bikes. To be honest, I was fine with that. Having spent most of two years cycling to work at the depot I was used to the bike and so the cycle journey out the Borrisnangoul road and back took little out of me.

However, I had lulled myself into a false sense of ease. When we got back to the hall the sadist-in-chief, Sergeant McKready, had set up a mini gym and was waiting to see us suffer. He put us through a dose of press-ups, sit-ups and chin ups until we nearly burst.

By the time I got home there wasn’t one bit of me that hadn’t an ache or a pain. I thought the pain was bad immediately after the event, but the following morning I couldn’t get out of the bed. The Mother had to dose me with painkillers before I could even open my eyelids.

Our second last event took the form of a 5km walk, a jog and a run to Honetyne, where our bikes were waiting for us to cycle back. By that stage many of the leisurely participants had dropped off, but the seasoned athletes stayed with us, along with the few people who took up the dietary and exercise regime at the start.

I don’t know how they managed to stay at it; I was only there because I was shamed into it. If I had a choice between staying in my bed and pounding the road to Honetyne I know where I’d be – in the bed.

The very last morning of physical jinks was meant to involve cycling, walking and swimming in Clonmel, but it was aborted thanks to the combined efforts of the Beast from the East and Storm Emma. Never was a potentially disastrous weather event more welcome.

I was called into service with my tractor ferrying people hither and tither. The Sergeant was busy trying to keep the roads clear and, thankfully, the diets went out the window. Greasy fries, buttered bread and hot toddies were the order of the day as the snow mounted and the temperatures dropped.

Thank God for spring and the end of storms, blizzards, ice and frost and Operation Transformation. CL

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