The internet revealed that Patrick Manifold of Anne Street, Limerick was in a motor accident on the way to Shannon Airport on 2nd June, just eight weeks earlier, but this was not mentioned in reports on the inquest. The Cork Examiner of 6 August reported on the case at Ennis District Court where Patrick Manifold of the same address was on trial for dangerous driving, where he was fined £3.
Following on yesterday blog about Breda O’Connell who died when struck by a car and whose headstone includes the words ‘Killed In Athlunkard St.’, I spent some time searching.
The internet revealed that Patrick Manifold of Anne Street, Limerick was in a motor accident on the way to Shannon Airport on 2nd June, just eight weeks earlier, but this was not mentioned in reports on the inquest. The Cork Examiner of 6 August reported on the case at Ennis District Court where Patrick Manifold of the same address was on trial for dangerous driving, where he was fined £3.
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‘Kill’ is not a word that I have often seen on a headstone. A word like that does prompt the inquisitiveness in me.
This headstone at Kilmurry, Limerick did intrigue. The internet, and Limerick City Library, provided some information that Breda O’Connell died after being struck by a motor car driven by Patrick William Manifold on Athlunkard Street, Limerick. The inquest believed that Mr Manifold was unfit to drive. Mr Manifold was returned for trial but my web searching will need to improve to try and find the outcome of that hearing. Last week was the anniversary of the Betelgeuse disaster on Whiddy Island in Bantry Bay. There were a number of tweets reminding of the 51 who died in 1979. I remember that my mother wanted to drive down to Bantry and see what was being shown on the television. The young me thought that wish very odd. The current me is disappointed that she didn’t get there and bring us with her. In 2018, I visited Bantry graveyard and was well impressed by the monument designed by a J. L. Fontaine, who does not appear on a web search. I had not realised that two victims were unnamed. Another from my visit to the cemetery at Aghada in East Cork. The headstone to Margaret Jones who died aged just 20, on this day 149 years ago did cause me to stop, ponder and leave with some thoughts and queries. The engraving has stood up a lot better than others that I have seen. What does 21st Co. R.E. mean? My best would might be 21st Company Royal Engineers. The spacing of the engraver with regard to YEAᴿˢ. The apparent expectation of remarrying – How Few Her Equal Shall I Find. I suppose the world of any period is frail to any bereaved.
Another first spotted at Killiney Cemetery in Castlegregory, Co. Kerry. I cannot recall before seeing a headstone in the shape of a pillow – caused me to stop for a while and smile. Sleep well, Timmy O’Connor Having spent our holidays on the Dingle peninsula over the past years, we are well used to the Irish summer weather. We have had to have distractions and other activities for the not-so-great days. Collecting sea glass and making art pieces has been a form of entertainment. Another has been Stone Art – where stones collected on the beach (on a marginally better day) are then painted. This summer, in both Kilshannig and Killiney Cemeteries, near Castlegregory, I noted painted stones. It appears that the weather may not be restricted to the summer months and others have some mindfulness with StoneArt. A selection of images of the painted stones: I do not think that many consider the purpose of a headstone is to bring a smile – it looks like Josephine Deane held the minority view, thankfully. KIlshannig Cemetery must have one of the best aspects of any graveyard that I have visited and Jospehine’s headstone occupies prime real estate. So the visitor gets a smile and a view. In Killiney Cemetery in Castlegregory, it took me a few seconds to spot the headstone. At first I just saw grass and the bush.
The oval shaped stone was then spotted. It could easily be a stone from the neighbouring beaches, repurposed to accommodate the essential information of name and date – Rita Donnellan, 27 – 11 – 1986. I like this on so many fronts – using materials that are near to hand, and free; the understated nature; the fact that someone thought of this 33 years ago; and, the skill of carving on a carving on a curve. ‘It wasn’t that I was ungrateful to America because America had been good to me, and still is, but even the very bird prefers the area where it was hatched’ Last July, heading for a weekend on the Dingle peninsula, I detoured at Cordal and took time-out, a few minutes of me-time in Kilmurry Cemetery. There, for the first time, I met with John O’Donoghue who had died 35 years earlier, about the time that I was receiving my Leaving Certificate results.
I have seen many nicknames on headstones on my rambles through cemeteries. The term ‘The Yank’ struck. Maybe it was because I had not long finished the book by another returned Yank, Tomás Ó Cinnéide. Maybe it sparked a memory of the tales told of Kruger. As possibly the only returned emigrant in the area, use of ‘John O’Donoghue’ was likely to cause confusion in the area, whereas there was, most likely, just one ‘Yank’. This morning, I spotted a tweet about a recently released book by Sinéad Moynihan on the ‘Returned Yank’ that will probably be requested of my local library in the near future. It brought back that minute on two standing with John O’Donoghue on a lovely quiet Kerry morning. “My dearest Mother, I take this opportunity of writing to you to let you know the dreadful news, that I am to be shot on Tuesday morning, the 1st of November. What harm, it is all for Ireland. I am not afraid to die, but it thinking of you I am. That is all: if you will be happy on earth I will be happy in Heaven. I am ready to meet my doom. The priest is with me when needed so you need not worry over me… I am the only one of 62 of us to be put out of this World, but I am ready to die” The day after Kevin Barry was executed, James Daly met a similar fate. Growing up I would have learned of Kevin Barry, the former Belvedere student who was due to sit an exam as part of his U.C.D. Medical Studies but participated in an I.R.A. attack, was captured, court-martialled and hanged. Years ago, I would have heard the song sung by Paul Robeson, Leonard Cohen and others. It was much more recently that I learned of James Daly. He was a member of the Connaught Rangers who refused to soldier when they heard of the treatment of Irish men and women at the hands of the Black & Tans. Patrick McGrath, a colleague of his from India, lies in Castlehyde Cemetery. His headstone prompted my reading of the Indian Mutiny. James Daly led a group of the Connaught Rangers in an attempt to regain their guns which they had handed over. Two soldiers died. As leader, James Daly was court-martialled and executed. Last month, I had to travel from Dublin to Roscommon so I availed of the opportunity to travel the old main road west and make a visit to Tyrellspass and leave one of my stones on the grave of James Daly.
Today, I was reminded of my one-time challenge to self to become overweight. In checking the internet for this particular rambling, it seems that the term ‘morbidly obese’ has appeared to have changed, or been dumbed down, to Obese II or even ‘very obese’. Even (most of ) the websites of the weight loss clinics have dispensed with ‘morbidly’ in favour of ‘extremely obese’, or just ‘obese’. In April 2005, my visit to I.C.U. did prompt a desire to become, just, overweight. ‘Morbidly’ does carry some import and effect. As with many good intentions, that lasted a while and in the intervening period, I have moved closer to ‘morbidly obese’ than overweight. Maybe putting this in words may act as an incentive. Today, a spare hour around Ennis before heading to Thomond Park brought me to Kilraghtis Cemetery where I encountered a few things never met before. Before I even got to the cemetery, I was attacked. To open the gate to the track to the cemetery, I had to disturb some bees, or maybe wasps, that appeared to have taken up residence in the hole used to accommodate the gate lock. One of them head-butted me on my neck but no sting – strange. Exiting, I climbed the gate – lesson learned. Within the cemetery, I learned of the diet of rabbit and pike of George Marlborough – such a diet and such a cause of death I had never seen on a headstone before. Driving back, I wondered how long it had been since I stood on weighing scales – this ostrich preferring not to know how close the classification of ‘morbidly obese’ is becoming. It would be great to say that that was a second lesson learned – it would be, but….
Quite a few blog posts hereabouts have been accompanied by the expression that ‘it is a bad day when one does not learn something new’. Last week, I learned something completely new. Upto then, I would have thought that it could not have been true. It was so ‘not a bad day’. Those of you who regularly pass by these pages are probably aware of my interest in Commonwealth War Graves – the inscriptions; the dates; the distances travelled; the alias; the location; and, the neighbours in the graveyard.
I had understood that such headstones were erected to those who had died in the World Wars or slightly after as a consequence of action in a World War. This is an expression not exclusive to the Republican side – as I would have thought.
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