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hen we first became aware of Padraig McCartan, it was over in the house of his beautiful sister, Deirdre, and her not-quite-as-beautiful husband, Ronnie, and the Drew household was rockin’.
hen we first became aware of Padraig McCartan, it was over in the house of his beautiful sister, Deirdre, and her not-quite-as-beautiful husband, Ronnie, and the Drew household was rockin’. As was so very often the case when it came to get-togethers over at Ronnie and Deirdre’s place up on Killincarrick Road. It was somewhere deep in that no man’s land between Christmas and New Year, and, as happened every year, the Drew household was acting as a home for strays during the holiday season – those weary travellers who pretty much didn’t have a home to go to. There’d be flamenco dancing, the wild Italian-Argentinian musician Antonio Breschi banging out crazy Latin rhythms on the piano, Ronnie recanting a long & winding, and gloriously ridiculous, tale. It was madness at its very finest, and in the midst of all the mayhem, Padraig not only appeared to be the sanest of this Fraggle Rock gathering, but also, despite being relatively sober and fully dressed, the happiest.
To be fair, it’s a calm and sunny disposition shared by his sister, Deirdre. I reckon their dad might secretly be the Dalai Lama. Or Yoda.
It was a treat, therefore, to get Padraig – one of the country’s most noted Senior Counsel Barristers, begorrah – for My Greystones. Here’s a man who remembers the town’s first – and for a long time, only – chipper, Pennycooks, which was situated just a battered cod’s throw from Joe Sweeney’s. This legendary chipper might very well have been the closest thing to heaven for the young Padraig. Until he met his wife, Eimear, that is.
Oh, and he’s right about not changing Greystones’ main street anymore. That’s the town shopfront, our book cover, and you can tell a lot about a town by its main street. Just look at Bray.