loughlin 18 November 2008
Years ago, when myself and my 2 brothers were at our various schools, my Mum decided to go to study art full time in the newly opened Regional Technical College in Galway, where we lived. It was great for all of us. We were all out of the house during the day and although us kids were first back, usually, we had jobs to keep us going in the short time before the Mammy got back. Jobs for which we were paid! She’d store all of this up and we’d get our earnings at Christmas or Summer Holiday time, when the money counted most. I think she’s always a bit worried when I tell people this, as if it’ll look like we were Home Alone. Mostly what it did for us was grant an independence that we might have taken longer to acquire – that goes for Herself too! Anyhow, because she was studying art she always had extremely colourful friends home – we’d always had a house full of strays, till then made up of family and friend of my parents from Sligo their home town. One of the types brought home by the Mammy during the arty years was a sculptor and teacher called Loughlin Hoare – he was an extraordinary red-head who had studied and qualified in London and live the requisite life there in the 60s and was always dapper and couldn’t quite pronounce his Rs and was always declaring that you ‘must confront your image’. He was fantastic and a huge feature of ours lives for many of the formative teenage years. He was married and had 3 lovely daughters, who I never met but my Mum did and she says they are divine, but he lived, of necessity, away from home (his family was based in Roscommon and he didn’t see them during the working week because of the commute so ours was more often that not his chosen ‘home’). My brothers grew used to waking up to Loughlin’s snores and to find him in a bunkbed nearby. Now comes the news that he has shuffled off and the world, I can assure you, is a less colourful place as a result. He did get to meet his grandson and that’s great to know. I can only hope the little chap is a chip off the old sculptural block and, genetics being what they are, I think that’s most certainly the case.
Watched Munster versus the All Blacks tonight and haven’t a nail left on my hands (it’s a while since I’ve had such a cull but there was no avoiding it with the excitement and tension tonight). Munster were magnificent out and out but sadly not QUITE enough to beat the New Zealanders. They deserved the win though and were a credit to the great tradition of that fine club. There is an isle…
