In Dunmanway, West Cork stands the Broadway Cinema building. It’s been there for 95 years now. In the 1960s I made frequent trips, usually during school holidays, to visit family in that town. I visited the cinema on occasion though who can tell what films I watched. What I do remember is that, after paying your sixpence, the common practice was for us kids to scoot up the stairs to the balcony instead of sitting in the downstairs seats for which we’d paid. No one was bothered.
Like so many cinemas everywhere it is long closed. The happy news is that it still stands – and to me it carries an aura of optimism that, one day, it will open its doors again to welcome visitors. Let’s hope it will do so, if not to show films, then with a community-based purpose.
There was a girl called Katie who in Arizona dwelled She was a thoughtful brainy lass, at writing she excelled And sums and science, history too, these challenges she chose But when they said, ‘take up a sport’ she just turned up her nose.
Her friends played in a baseball league, they said, ‘it’s lots of fun’ But Katie said she wouldn’t play if she would have to run ‘Then come and hit a ball with us upon a tennis court’ But it was clear that Katie had no interest in sport.
One day the TV showed something that made Katie look twice For there were people sliding stones along a sheet of ice And when the funny game was done the winners got a prize Young Katie put away her books much to her own surprise.
She visited the curling club though it was far away They asked her what she wanted and she said she’d like to play ‘It looks such easy friendly fun though I’ll be crap and cry’ The curlers sighed but said of course they’d let her have a try.
So that’s the story of Katie, how she became a champ The captain of the USA the leader of the camp And then her medals put away and carefully arranged She opened up her books again and said, ‘Well that was strange’.
Years ago in Ireland you’d eat what you were given. And that would generally have been bacon and cabbage and a bowl of spuds ‘in their shkins’ which the family would raid with forks, the folk memory of the Famine still not dead. Earlier in the day there might have been slices of wholegrain bread and a boiled egg, all washed down with a cup of tea. If you were guest at a wedding then you’d be living the high life at a local hotel – maybe even a choice of meat or fish. You’d hardly know what to do with the fine choice of cutlery in front of you.
I suppose things started to change in the early 1970s. Joining the European Union in 1972 changed a lot of things. There were suddenly big grants available for the asking. One of the most spectacular visible improvements was in the road network which up to then had been a bunch of interminable winding lanes with only the main towns and cities connected by straighter, smoother roads. Val Doonican sang that, “The road from Cork to Dublin is a vale of pains and aches.” He wasn’t wrong.
Culinary habits didn’t change overnight, and when they did it was in the capital Dublin with a greater variety of choice which the Irish housewives now found in new-fangled supermarkets. And ethnic foods took a hold. I recall a long queue in Cork city outside one new Chinese restaurant (though enquiry actually tells us that the very first Chinese in Cork was established around 1964). But gradually Ireland started looking outwards in many ways.
The Arbutus Lodge Hotel in Cork city opened in 1961, bought by Sean and Mary Ryan. The location was to die for, overlooking the city of Cork with great views of the city and the River Lee. But it was their son Declan who developed the restaurant side of the business. He did it so well that in March 1974 the Arbutus Lodge won Ireland’s first ever Michelin star. Culinary matters were of little interest in the country then, so much so that this was reported in the London-based Times but only got a brief mention on page 8 of the Cork Examiner. There followed many more such awards as Ireland in general came to the party, so much so that it is now very well stocked with culinary excellence.
I stayed there once, back in the 1980s. I’m not sure why now, it was certainly a few grades up from the places I’d normally kip on holiday. I was awestruck by the opulence of the place and recall checking into my room, putting on the provided white dressing gown, pouring myself a whiskey from the minbar and sitting for an hour in the bay window overlooking the river. I could have got used to the life.
And that evening six or seven of us ate dinner there. It was a splendid occasion, bringing together separate groups among my family and acquaintances. At the end of the meal we vowed to meet again at the same table on the same night the following year. Of course life intervened and we never did.
After a long and successful run the Arbutus Lodge was sold by the Ryans to owners who went bankrupt shortly afterwards. The place was renovated and became apartments, and is now I believe a beautiful family home.
Viewed across the field from Rue de Maupertuis, to the left is the former Samarès Station on the Jersey Eastern Railway line, opened in 1873 and closed along with the line in 1929. Along with the scheduled timetable this was the stop for excursion trains taking passengers to Samarès Manor for ‘open’ days – the manor woodlands can be seen in the background.
I’ve often wondered what a surreal impact the night train would have had in this rural setting at a time when there would have been virtual silence other than the sounds of nature.
Deep stillness of the Jersey night you do not hear a sound But stop and listen, try again, for life is all around The robin cheeps. the song-thrush sings, the nightjar can be heard They’ve always been there but by day to louder sounds deferred But now the songbirds stop and hark as rumblings they hear For now here comes the midnight train from Gorey it draws near They’ve seen it all a hundred times the train no threat entails The train for all its tiresome noise will stay upon its rails And so once more the peace returns to fields and to the trees The birds and creatures of the night once more can take their ease And should you go a-wandering at night in Jersey fair Remember that you’re not alone there’s plenty others there
The Occupation Tapestry was officially opened on 9th May 1995, the 50th anniversary of the Island’s first Liberation Day, the reclaiming of the Island by British troops from the Nazis who had control for five long years.
With the original concept and design by local artist Wayne Audrain, the Tapestry consists of 12 panels, each panel stitched by teams from each of the Island’s 12 parishes. Many of the stitchers remembered the Occupation years very well. But also, there was an opportunity for others to add a stitch or two, making it a true community undertaking. Of course, many of the stitchers are no longer with us.
The Tapestry is housed within the Maritime Museum building at St Helier Harbour. Each of the 12 panels has an interactive and multi-lingual screen guide. For the 30th anniversary of the original opening a 13th panel was added. And, most recently, a new generation were able to focus on these events as they worked on acrylic reproductions of each of the panels.
Here are just a few of the panels but the Tapestry can only be fully appreciated by visiting the original.
Outbreak of war – Parish of TrinityInteractive screen for the previous panelEarly days of Occupation – Parish of GrouvilleGovernment – Parish of St BreladeAcrylic reworking of previous panelSent overseas, the deportations – Parish of St MaryBypassed (D-Day) – Parish of St JohnRed Cross – Parish of St MartinLiberation – Parish of St Clement
A bit like a man trying to cling to a precipice by his fingernails, grim determination finally gave way to reality during 2025. I fell. However I luckily tumbled into a lot of bushes and brushwood and I find I’m still alive. Slower, but still moving in a forward direction.
The reality came at the beginning of September during the Jersey Spartan Half-Marathon. The first few miles of this course are tough enough, especially when one is attacking the race. The difference this time though was that, at the first water stop, I found I couldn’t continue. I was done. I trotted slowly homewards with a lot of thinking to be done.
I’m 72, 73 in February. Until recently I still had time targets – 5k – 24mins, 10k – 50mins. I wasn’t hitting the targets but in my head they were attainable. No longer. I think I’ve finally found peace with the understanding that I can continue to enjoy my running and racing only if I’m able to ditch any aspirations to old targets. And so it shall be.
I ran 1566km in 2025 (1793 in 2024, 2237 in 2023). That tells a story. Fewer training runs of shorter duration. Not laziness but my body telling me that I can no longer do more than this without adverse consequences.
I’m still generally in very good health though I could always benefit from losing a few kgs. I did however (unusually) pick up an injury during the year, a pulled hamstring which put me out of action for a few weeks. Happily I’ve fully recovered.
Struggling in the 10-miler
I continue to do plenty of local races. In addition I’ve registered for parkrun, the amazing community event – now spreading worldwide – which takes place every Saturday morning when everyone runs or walks 5k without pressure with the results email awaiting you when you get back home. Jersey parkrun regularly attracts 300 – 400 participants (more in the summer season) and there’s a great vibe.
So now to a review of the year’s races – not particularly pretty viewing.
19 Jan – Sorel 10k 52.51 (34th out of 48, but 15th age-grade) 2 Feb – Spartan 10-mile 88.30, 68th out of 85. 2 March – Spartan 8k 41.03, 26th out of 34. 11 March – Spartan 5k 25.13 23 March – Jersey Hospice Half 1:56.40, 422nd out of 763, third M70. 13 April – Spartan Spring 10k 53.57 (59th out of 79 but 29th age-grade) 9 May – Spartan 5k 25.49 (76th out of 103, but 35th age-grade) 27 May – Spartan 8k 43.55 (hamstring) 8 June – Cannacord Half M, (dnf, hamstring) 14 Aug – Hamptonne 10k 56.01 – return from injury 31 Aug – Jayson Lee 10k, 53.08 7 Sept – Spartan Half dnf 23 Sept – Spartan 5k 26.08 (41st out of 55 but 18th age-grade) 28 Oct – Spartan 5k 26.52 22 Nov – Parkrun #1 (5k) 28.27 30 Nov – Durrell Dash (approx 11.6k) 68.42 (173rd out of 258) 7 Dec – Frubbs 10-mile 1:40.52 20 Dec – Parkrun #2 27.14 26 Dec – Spartan 10k 54.04 (88th out of 137 but 31st age-grade) 27 Dec – Parkrun #3 28.15 27 Dec – Bouley Bay Hill Climb 11.17
Postscript added 2 Jan ’26 – The Missing Glove A few of us headed out on the morning of New Year’s Eve for a run/jog/walk, reconvening for coffee at The Breakwater Cafe, St Catherine on Jersey’s east coast. Then, the following morning there was an additional Jersey Parkrun to welcome in 2026 – the usual sizeable crowd lined up for the start. A fellow runner, a young lady, edged up to me as we waited, she said, “Excuse me, did you drop a glove at St Catherine yesterday?” Now, I’d been unable to locate a second glove that morning and, thinking little of it, I’d taken a spare pair to run in (chilly morning). So I replied, “Yes I might have, but how…?” She said, “I ran past you yesterday, you’re wearing the same top. I left the glove on top of a bollard there.” Long story short, after parkrun I drove back to St Catherine and there was my glove, on top of a bollard.
So what, I hear you cry. Well, there’s a coincidence for a start, this woman lining up alongside me, never mind recognising me from a brief run-by the day before (I could pretend she could hardly forget my handsomeness and magnetism, but I doubt that). But above all, how did she connect me with the glove she happened to pick up outside the cafe?
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy” (Shakespeare’s Hamlet).
I don’t read as much as a lot of people – generally an hour before bed works for me. So 40 or so this year excluding one or two turkeys abandoned early on.
There are certain truisms when it comes to selecting and reading fiction, amongst those being
The most heavily plugged and promoted authors rarely live up to their marketing
Even the best writers can’t excel every time
In what is a hopelessly overcrowded market there are still gems to be found amongst the mediocrity
My book of the year? Emphatically Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library.
Best newly discovered writer – Andrew Lowe.
My top three go-to authors – Sharon Bolton, Kate Atkinson, Ciara Geraghty.
Anyone match with any of the below? And please readers, always try and leave a rating, and maybe a short review after you’ve read a book – Goodreads or Amazon. Writers of all standards deserve that.
Forgotten in the mists of time It’s strange but it is true They said, “Let’s start a running club, We’ve sod all else to do.” Though Annabel and Fifi said “But one and one makes two
“There really aren’t enough of us To make it worth our while If we think hard I’m sure we can Get others for a trial They must be free on Fridays and Be sure to make us smile.”
And so the word it got about They didn’t have to try The applications flooded in And they both wondered why “We must be super popular The limit is the sky
“We must be careful with our picks,” They both quite rightly said “We don’t want racers or fast peeps Or any thoroughbred It’s all about the coffee And fresh air to clear the head.”
And so there is a motley crew Who gently run today Just two or three or maybe more If it’s a holiday They always stop and wait for those Who might have gone astray
There’s Kerry and there’s Janice too And Jean, Pauline and Clare And Barb’ra who they say was good At some time way back there And Tracey who keeps bouncing back With spirit that’s so rare
So if you see them on the road When on their merry way Just step aside and let them pass And give a loud hurray They’re headed to the coffee shop Which is so far away
OK I’m getting the hang of this science lark. Having demonstrated my mastery of quantum physics in my previous post, here I present some archaeology theory. This comes after having watched many episodes of Time Team with Tony Robinson, and a few YouTube videos.
I’m going to look at a few archaeological mysteries and propose answers – the mysteries are many and credible answers appear to me to be few. Rather than solve all the mysteries I’ll leave some for others to look at. Here are three of my faves.
Stonehenge, England. It’s some manner of burial/ceremonial setup, no one is quite sure. It’s about 5000 years old. In my day you could walk among the stones but these days you need to pay to see it in the distance from the Visitor Centre – £30 adults, £20 children plus a parking fee. Tip – just drive along the A360 for free and turn your head (unless you’re driving of course).
The main mystery is how did the massive stones arrive on site. They weigh up to 30 tons. The sarsens are the largest and originated in Marlborough Downs, about 20 miles away. The smaller ones, the bluestones, come from the Preseli Hills in Wales, over 150 miles away. More recently there are indications that one or two originated to the north of Scotland.
Traditionally, schoolkids were told that the stones were dragged on rollers or sleds. Really? Did the teachers ever work out the logistics of doing this? No, it’s because they had to tell the kids something. But also, did they really cut and shape the huge stones with primitive flint tools?
Diquis Stone Spheres Some 300 petrospheres of various sizes to be found in Costa Rica. Their purpose or meaning is unknown. The largest of them is over two metres in diameter and weighs 15 tons, though some are smaller. They date back to 600BCE. Unlike the Stonehenge stones they don’t appear to have travelled great distances. They are said to have been made by hammering boulders with other stones. But exactly how did a primitive race produce such precise work?
Baalbek Stones, Lebanon My favourite. A collection of six massive stones dating back to the Byzantine period or before. Particularly the Trilithon, three blocks 22 metres long, five metres high and 3.5 metres wide. Each of the three blocks is estimated to weigh between 1000 and 2000 tons. And more to this, they are fitted together perfectly, carved to perfection. Though they have moved no great distance from the quarry, the sheer weight and craftsmanship would seem to make it impossible to replicate by modern means.
Stop Press – Caverns Under the Pyramids of Giza So the Pyramids as they appear above ground present mysteries which have been studied for many decades. Now we have claims of underground structures, even a city, accessed by cylindrical shafts. Egyptologists are in a spin – it remains to be seen what transpires over the next few years.
My answer Come on, are archaeologists still determined to stick to the belief that primitive man had the time, inclination and ability – personal and collective, to produce these wonders? Stone axes used by Neolithic people created huge and precise carved monoliths, spheres, walls? Hundreds of men, women and children spent their days pulling and shoving stones miles from place to place instead of hunting for food? Come off it.
A lost and advanced civilisation? Certainly more likely than the paragraph above. But then why, through five great extinctions, have we found no sign of them – their writings, their tools, anything? I think not.
No one proposes aliens. Certainly no archaeologist or researcher who wants to be taken seriously or who is looking for funding from universities, foundations etc. OK I know they were meant to come and visit us during 2025 (ufologists said so) but maybe it’ll be next year. So I’m in the ‘it was aliens’ camp. Mark my words.
I was always hopeless at Science – the various sciences. At school we’d be taught Physics, Chemistry and Biology. It was all alike to me, bemusement. Sure, I and my school chums would sit in front of blackboards and text books, listening and writing stuff down. Occasionally we’d brighten up if we had an ‘experiment’ to do that day – something in a test tube perhaps, preferably fizzing or smoking alarmingly. In Biology we dissected a bull’s eye one time, and that remains the one thing I remember about the subject.
This was a ‘good’ grammar school, but it’s a holy wonder that I attained the minimum standard to constitute a pass in the subjects – how poor must the fails have been? Little of what we were taught seemed to relate to the reality we lived outside the school walls. As to Maths, we’d spend hours and weeks working out trigonometry answers from tables in little books – sine, cosine, tangent. To this day I have no clue what any of it meant, or what use trigonometry is in daily life. [Edit: I have since learned that indeed trigonometry has multiple practical applications. Had this been explained and described at the time, had we been presented with examples, then maybe we’d have understood a bit better.]
So yeah, even basic science is a foreign land to me. So you can imagine my level of understanding of quantum physics …”the fundamental science of matter and energy at the atomic and subatomic levels…”
But, dear reader, I have been saved. I’ve read Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library. Now I could stand up and give a lecture about the Multiversewhere there are an infinite number of parallel universes existing right now alongside our own. And some of which Nora Seed, the main character, gets the chance to visit and live awhile. The author creates a scenario, a near-death experience, where Nora has chosen death as a way out of deep depression. However she never quite makes it to the afterlife like ordinary souls, but gets a second chance and a choice of alternative lives from the one she has rejected.
Nora, through her experiences in thousands of different lives, learns enough to want to give her root life another try and, in Nora’s words, “She didn’t want to die. And she didn’t want to live any other life than the one which was hers. The one that could be a messy struggle but it was her messy struggle. A beautiful messy struggle.”
