HEARTBEAT: It scarcely seems possible that it is a year since I wrote about Puck Fair. It is upon us again, and I write this on gathering day, the first day of this three-day festival.
Tomorrow is fair day, followed by scattering day, when the whole population is wrecked. I have just returned from the fair, it is now mid-afternoon on a most beautiful cloudless, windless day.
It is well nigh impossible to do justice to Puck Fair on paper. It is something living, breathing and you have to experience it for yourself. This morning we parked the car on the Glenbeigh side of Killorglin and walked through the streets, already heaving with humanity despite the earliness of the hour. The pubs had doormen, as had many of the shops. Some of the more timid shopkeepers had failed to enter fully into the spirit of the event as they had their premises boarded up, in case the exuberance got out of hand. Stalls of every variety lined the streets, "bargains" were everywhere. "Jaysus, sure I'm giving away these two lovely gold watches for €20, hurry up now and make up your mind, because if the guards come this way I'll have to go that way." I don't know why anybody would spend hundreds on Tommy Hilfiger, Armani, or Dior in the fashionable expensive stores of our big cities. All are available here at knockdown prices.
The trouble with these young folk is that they don't know a bargain when they see one. I can't see them impressing their "in" crowd with "I got this for €10 at Puck Fair".
I noticed with interest that my hairdresser Myra had become Myra's American Hot Dog Emporium, apparently this is an annual transformation for three days. I also noted bad news for the medical profession - now that I think of it for some of the legal profession also. There was on sale a wonderful massage cushion, guaranteed to cure arthritis, sciatica, rheumatism, back pain, and even whiplash. Hurry up folks and get in on the bargain, there are only about four million of them left. I am left wondering how the inventor never received the Nobel Prize for Medicine. There is no justice. There were hair restorers (none of this expensive surgical transplantation business). There were creams that were guaranteed to put botox out of business at a fraction of the cost. Using the jargon of today, all were clinically proven to be effective. There were apparently no side effects, your face didn't fall off or anything like that. It is amazing what has happened in the short time since my retirement from active surgery. I knew nothing about any of this.
Alternative medicines, treatments, and practitioners abounded and offered a cheap and cheerful way of dispensing with conventional medicine. I suspect there may even have been a disposable do-it-yourself heart lung machine, though I must confess I did not see it myself. Looking around at the other machinery available, a heart lung machine could just as easily have fallen off the back of a lorry. Look at it Mary Harney, it would be cheaper than the present carry-on, and as they tell it, just as effective.
This year the horse fair was located just outside the town, adjacent to the cemetery. I am sure that this cast no reflection on the quality of horseflesh for sale. I am no judge of horses, although somebody apparently named a horse after me. Judging by its results, I am left with the suspicion that the animal only has three legs. Looking at the bustle, the dealing and general excitement I felt that the fair had gained immensely by its transfer from the streets of the town. Still horseless, I retraced my steps through the maelstrom of activity. It was now early afternoon, the town was packed, the fun fair in full swing, the pubs crowded and music on all sides. The Goat was not even crowned yet, this latter event scheduled for the evening, when the Bacchanalia reaches an even higher level.
There's supposed to be culture in there somewhere also but I guess I missed that bit. Killorglin, wonderful town, wonderful festival and above all wonderful people, I love you a lot.
I had not intended to write about Puck and indeed I had been asked to mention the lovely and accomplished lady golfers of Dooks club in Kerry. My pen is unequal to this task and, dare I say it, many other clubs are similarly blessed.
Eat your heart out Portmarnock, but beware, the storm troopers of the Equality Authority are after you armed with an inexhaustible supply of the taxpayers' money. God help us all. Are there not more important ways to spend the citizens' money? Perhaps a good look is needed at this body, from the point of view of what it spends and what it achieves. We may be equal in the sight of God but we differ in everything else. Exploitation is one thing, equality something else, incapable of compulsion.
Maurice Neligan is a cardiac surgeon