logo
‘On your bike': Aer Lingus treatment of reader with young family ‘does the airline's own staff a huge disservice too'

‘On your bike': Aer Lingus treatment of reader with young family ‘does the airline's own staff a huge disservice too'

Irish Times6 days ago
It being the height of summer, it is hardly surprising that
travel
is on the minds of many, although we are not convinced that plans to jet away to sunnier spots or memories of holidays just finished are behind the recent spike in complaints about
Aer Lingus
.
A couple of weeks back
we highlighted
the story of a reader called Cathy
who was left hungry on a transatlantic flight
, having had the temerity to fall asleep ahead of the in-flight meal service.
Aer Lingus did resolve the issue to her satisfaction but her story prompted quite a few other readers to get in touch to share stories of how they had been let down by what was once our national airline. Here are just some of them.
First up is Joanne who admitted her story was going to 'seem like very much a first world problem' but she was prompted to share it because of 'the recent proliferation of Aer Lingus AerClub advertisements enticing new customers to join' and said it was 'driving me a little round the bend when I've been completely shafted by AerClub despite having spent thousands with Aer Lingus through business and personal travel in the last few years'.
READ MORE
Joanne has been a member of the Aer Lingus AerClub loyalty scheme for more than three years and usually chooses Aer Lingus for all her air travel. She has had Silver tier AerClub status since 2023.
[
Would you want to be woken for an in-flight meal of rubbery pasta?
Opens in new window
]
'Before the new Tier Credit period began on April 1st I was tracking my tier credits and planning travel to ensure (as I was so close) that I would fly enough sectors to ensure elevation to Platinum tier, which would unlock more benefits,' she says. 'I flew all the flights needed but noticed that one flight on March 13th was missing and never awarded the credits. Within a week I submitted my first missing credits form.'
She says she is 'not joking' about having called the Aer Lingus AerClub line approximately 20 times since, 'and, as nice as some of the agents are, I can get absolutely no answer or update on when my case will be reviewed.
'It seems forever destined to stay 'in the queue'. After three months with no movement whatsoever I can only assume I've been totally shafted and Aer Lingus have no intention to update my status and award me the credits I'm owed.'
We contacted the airline and in a statement it said Joanne's AerClub tier credits 'were not automatically assigned at the time of booking due to a technical error. However, our customer's AerClub account has now been fully credited, and as a gesture of goodwill, we have extended their Platinum membership status until 2027.'
[
'I am really disappointed in how Aer Lingus treats customers when things go wrong'
Opens in new window
]
The next story is far more serious and comes from a reader who contacted us on behalf of her recently widowed mother who is in her 80s.
A couple of years ago her parents were in Malaga when her mother's sister had a fall and needed surgery. She was told things were not looking good.
Our reader called Aer Lingus and 'spoke to a great chap and he assured me that, although we had to pay for new returns, we could claim this back, if my aunt died, and if we could provide a death certificate'.
The woman did pass away but there was a delay in issuing the death certificate and in the interim our reader's father also died suddenly.
Our reader was left to chase the refund.
In March of this year she mailed Aer Lingus and was told that because her parents had flown home with Aer Lingus from Malaga in September 2023 there was no refund due.
It turns out that while the return flight, which was changed for September 22nd from the original date of September 26th, was paid for in full, the Aer Lingus agent used the same booking reference.
[
An Aer Lingus passenger's 26-hour trek home, and eventual refund
Opens in new window
]
'I've tried to use the refund online service, but as the booking reference shows they did take flights, and no nuance about the flights being paid for separately, their computer says 'no' each time. I've sent an email asking to speak with a person as it needs a light touch and a bit of investigation, but I got the standard reply back: sorry, cannot help you, you flew.'
'Aer Lingus extends its deepest sympathies to the family for their loss and apologise for the delay in resolving their query,' the company said in a statement. 'While Aer Lingus policy requires a government-issued death certificate for bereavement related refunds, given the extenuating circumstances of this case, we are liaising with the family and will accept alternative available documentation to process the refund.'
And finally, there is Marc, who has also been given the runaround by Aer Lingus.
'Last August my wife, our three kids aged four, three and eight months and I flew to France with Aer Lingus for a comping holiday. On arrival at Brest airport we realised Aer Lingus hadn't loaded our bags on to the flight in Dublin,' he begins. 'This happens, but it was particularly challenging for us as travelling with three young kids.'
He repeats that such things happens but says the 'subsequent experience with Aer Lingus, however, was beyond disgraceful'.
He says that after multiple calls to find out where their luggage was and when it might get to them, he was able to establish that they were scheduled to arrive five days later 'on the next direct flight into Brest airport. This is despite multiple flights to nearby airports and even connections via Paris in the intervening days.
'My family's situation didn't matter to them and it was impossible to speak to a direct Aer Lingus employee on this.'
Marc says that in the meantime the had buy food and also clothes for their children in the nearest town 'to get us through the first few days of the trip'.
'I kept receipts for most items but not all, which was my mistake, in hindsight. Once the bags arrived I was advised to raise a 'delayed baggage claim' to get refunded for my costs. I did this immediately. You won't be surprised to hear I only heard back from them last week on this – while on this year's holiday. We flew Ryanair – apart from some delays due to French ACT, so far so good.
'I did send a mail [to Aer Lingus] once a month, asking as to the status of my claim – no response, of course. I doubt a human read it.'
Marc had submitted claims totalling €160 'to cover food, clothing, toiletries and a bike rental to cycle into the town to purchase these items'.
He says he accepts that the last one could be seen as stretching things but, given the circumstances, he figured it was reasonable.
'When I heard back from them last week I was told only €13 was refundable because the other receipts didn't explicitly state they were in euro, even though it was clear they were from a French supermarket, and, in the case of bike rental, were not itemised,' he says.
Marc managed to find a clause in EU legislation that states 'inclusion of currency is not mandatory in French receipts' and he sent the full receipt for the bike rental.
'I received a mail the next morning to state that a 'full and final payment' of €13 had been made. When I responded again I got an automated mail saying the case is now closed and this email won't be read.
'What shocked us is that Aer Lingus positions itself as a family-friendly, national carrier who cares about its customers. The staff at the check-in area in T2 are some of the most courteous and professional people I have met and always go out of their way to help when they see us coming with lots of bags and kids hanging out of us. It has always been a trigger to fly Aer Lingus up to now.
'This experience was the polar opposite of it, and as well as being the worst customer service experience of my life, it does a huge disservice to these people too.'
In response, Aer Lingus said it 'reimburses reasonable expenses such as the purchase of essential items such as clothes or toiletries in the case of delayed baggage, but does not refund cost of meals. We fully understand the inconvenience of delayed baggage, particularly for a family travelling with young children, and have offered [our reader] a gesture of goodwill on this occasion as a valued customer.'
Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Donegal and Kerry showcase football's Wild Atlantic Way
Donegal and Kerry showcase football's Wild Atlantic Way

Irish Examiner

time3 hours ago

  • Irish Examiner

Donegal and Kerry showcase football's Wild Atlantic Way

Eleven years ago, the same year both Donegal and Kerry previously contested an All-Ireland final, the Wild Atlantic Way route was launched. On a comparatively shoestring budget, Fáilte Ireland had to come up with an initiative to rebrand the splendour of the west coast in the hope of boosting a tourism industry still reeling from the economic crisis. Then chief executive Shaun Quinn went back to his homeplace in Raphoe in Donegal and conjured up the phrase. The wave-shaped acronym that became the logo followed and after that it was a case of agreeing on the route. Launched in April 2014, it was initially deemed gimmicky. The rusty stop signs were maligned as eyesores and the new road signs dismissed as the proverbial lick of paint. By the time Donegal and Kerry faced off that September, the sneering and cynicism was on the wane. Hotels in counties like Donegal were reporting bookings up by as much as 40%. Last year, it was revealed the Wild Atlantic Way has led to a 58% increase in revenue, which now totals €3 billion per annum. Not bad for giving a new name to something that was already there. Finn MacDonnell, owner of the famous Dick Mack's pub in Dingle, told this newspaper last year its creator should 'be given a trophy'. Aisling Arnold-Kelly, owner of Arnolds Hotel in Dunfanaghy reported the promotion was transformational for her business. 'We were opening on St Patrick's Day and closing after Halloween,' she told the Irish Times. 'As a result of the Wild Atlantic Way, we are now open six months full-time and five days a week in the off-season, from November to February…' A lot of what the Football Review Committee (FRC) started 10 years on from Fáilte Ireland's great marketing campaign can be likened to the Wild Atlantic Way. The product is still the product, football remains football as FRC chairman Jim Gavin had intended, but the packaging is a damn sight better. In almost every GAA field in the country, the FRC's lick of paint has amounted to two partly-elliptical arcs and a dotted halfway line. The skill of a long-range point has been flagged literally and figuratively. The quick free is quicker in the form of the solo-and-go. If the 2,500km route from Kinsale to Malin Head fuels nostalgia for ex-pats and second and third generation Irish about the old sod, the four back, three up restrictions is a nod to how the game used to be played. Like the paintings of Paul Henry and postcards of John Hinde that sold the idea of Ireland as a destination in the early half of the 20th century, there is romance to the rules. The allure of empty space as portrayed by those artists is what the FRC have advertised to footballers. Gavin may be a self-proclaimed fan of 'east coast football' but within the parameters he and his group have set, the west are this year's winners. The tropes about Donegal being too wedded to their running game because of their geography and their management's allegiance to it has been disproven by their progress under these new game conditions because they have excellent kickers. To a lesser extent, Kerry's presence in this final is notable when they seemed for a large part of the season to be slower than most to catch the hang of two-pointers, a point Jim McGuinness referenced after Donegal's All-Ireland semi-final. Both have moved with the times. The aggregate 27 points, the 2-21, the pair accumulated between themselves in the 2014 All-Ireland final could be matched or surpassed by half-time on Sunday. It's inflation but, unlike what those holidaying in Ireland are experiencing, it's the good kind. Just as the ruggedness of the west has been re-imagined, the GAA have realised that when you rebrand it, they will come. Novelty or not, attendances were up 21% for this year's group stages compared to last. Crowds for the 13 knock-out matches will exceed 430,000 and could be as much as 23% higher than 2024. That's not to say the fare from the preliminary quarter-finals has been great. It's been pretty underwhelming, in fact, after some electric group matches. The average winning margin has been 7.8 points compared to the group stages where the average gap was 5.6. Consequently, there is some pressure on Sunday's final to showcase all the good that the FRC has brought to the game before the permanency of the rules are voted on in early October, but finals are often fraught affairs and it's been six years since a stone-cold classic was delivered on this stage. But it doesn't need to be wonderful to establish that the tweaks have been a success. As those living in the Donegal and Kerry beauty spots on the Wild Atlantic Way can testify, a shower is never too far away.

Books in brief: How pilgrimage has changed; a dentist practising for 700 years; a budding ghost-writer
Books in brief: How pilgrimage has changed; a dentist practising for 700 years; a budding ghost-writer

Irish Times

time7 hours ago

  • Irish Times

Books in brief: How pilgrimage has changed; a dentist practising for 700 years; a budding ghost-writer

Holy Places: How Pilgrimage Changed the World by Kathryn Hurlock (Profile, £22) The history of pilgrimage is examined in 19 sacred sites and their role discussed through a consideration of how these journeys shaped society, culture and politics, managing to thrive into the 21st century. Some pilgrimages have endured for thousands of years, and while many are still undertaken to promote faith, others are completed for contemplation or wellbeing. The author follows a trail from remote islands to teeming capital cities, writing about locations such as Mecca, Buenos Aires and Tai Shan in China. Her European itinerary includes Lourdes, Rome, Istanbul and Iona, as well as Santiago de Compostela, which the author suggests has become the model pilgrimage to which all others are compared. Modern historians and anthropologists have called this the 'Caminoisation' of pilgrimage. Paul Clements Toothpull of St Dunstan by Keith Davey (AAAARGH! Press, £11.99) READ MORE Kevin Davey's third novel is narrated by Toothpull, a dentist practising for 700 years in a life of 'Abrahamic persistence'. He tends to 'teeth weakened by diseases, occlusions, accidents and blows' at St Dunstan's near Canterbury. Just thank your lucky dental pain-relief stars of the 21st century. Illustration: Getty Images/ Grafissimo/ Source: Magasin Pittoresque 1881 Toothpull learns to use the crude tools of his brutal trade – a pelican for extractions and poppies for anaesthetic – at a time when teeth were the sixth most common cause of death. Told as a series of encounters, his customers include a man with two mouths and the talking severed head of Sir Thomas More. Heavily seasoned with wordplay, allusions and in-jokes, the prose is often poetic: 'Dark dwellings, impasto, rooves looming, eaves leaking shadow.' A clever, inventive novel, brimming with wild energy and originality. Rónán Hession This is the cast-iron arch of the 1849 viaduct with the Cornbrook viaduct over and behind, Manchester, UK - September 18, 2017 Poor Ghost by Gabriel Flynn (Sceptre, £20) Luca has failed his PhD. He has failed to respond to the emails inviting him to discuss this failure. He has failed to address these feelings with a budding paramour from whose house he absconds in the middle of the night. Now he is back in his hometown of Manchester to process it all. Or better yet, distract himself with someone else's struggles by becoming a ghostwriter. Flynn's debut literary novel is not un-put-downable, but certainly pick-up-able. The Mancunian offers an engaging reading experience through agile prose and a strong narrative voice. However, it is this same narrative voice that presents a challenge. With such seeping self-hatred, how is the reader to feel? Sympathetic, accepting, admiring, pitying, frustrated? I found myself veering towards the latter, but for some, nihilism may be more of a turn-on. Brigid O'Dea

An isolated, distinct land that carries the football tight to its heart: Failte go Tír Chonaill
An isolated, distinct land that carries the football tight to its heart: Failte go Tír Chonaill

The 42

time10 hours ago

  • The 42

An isolated, distinct land that carries the football tight to its heart: Failte go Tír Chonaill

THERE IS CHANCE, a good chance at that, that in around 20 years, perhaps when the management career of Michael Murphy is winding down, that the history of Donegal football could be told through the stories of three figures: Brian McEniff, Jim McGuinness and Michael Murphy. From the birth of McEniff, Donegal were only getting going. He lit the flame that the other two have carried. They have had almost no success of note without those three figures. Geography, politics, culture all play a role, but the county has always been fragmented. To achieve requires a lot to be straightened out. When it is, though, they can unite into an irresistible force . . . ***** Anyone looking to escape the build-up to Donegal being in an All-Ireland final, could have picked worse places to take a quick staycation last week than the Isle of Doagh, on Donegal's Inishown Peninsula. By our own counting, we tallied up more flags for the hurlers of Cork and Tipperary than in support of Donegal on the road from Ballyliffin to Carndonough. In a county that is a place all of itself, there are fragments even within that system that have their own peculiarities. The Inishown peninsula favours soccer. The view of Five Finger Strand. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo In a Moville household during the week, I heard the children refer to soccer as 'football', and the native sport as 'Gaelic.' Naturally, they have requested six tickets for Sunday from their local club. The old tourism board slogan of 'Up here, it's different' contains multiple truths for Donegal. The very formation of the county system wasn't a natural geographic fit and three distinct Donegal cultures emerged. The east of the county unquestionably held more in common with the Protestant character of east Ulster. It was thriving and industrious, hiring many from the impoverished other parts of the county while Scottish settlers created a society with its own schools, newspapers, churches, marriage patterns and class structures. That left the south of the county and the extremely isolated north west. Utterly underdeveloped industrially, with areas such as The Rosses still lacking in proper road structures even up to a century ago. And in between the three regions was barren wasteland, high up and low down. Shouldered by the mountains on one side and hemmed in by the waves on the other, the locals created their own enterprises and entertainment. By the middle of the 1800s, north Donegal and particularly around the Inishowen Peninsula, with Urris as the epicentre, was a Poitín making industry, creating thousands of gallons that was exported to Belfast, Dublin and even Scotland. The lack of a permanent police presence in Inishown helped, but the locals were a shrewd bunch. They would station their distilleries in a sheugh between their land and a neighbours. In the event of discovery, they would successfully argue that it wasn't on their land, but on disputed territory. Incredibly, it worked. But the addictive nature of the alcohol was responsible for families being torn apart. Nobody wanted to incur the wrath of Judge Louis Joseph Walsh. In a previous life he was a contemporary of James Joyce and a playwright as well as a radical Republican who stood for election. But when he was appointed as the very first district court judge by Dáil, he took a dim view of Poitín and his policy was to jail the mother of the family caught transgressing. And any house would fall apart without the presence of the Irish mammy. Previously, in 1814 they brought in a system of townland fining. If the argument over disputed territory was used, a fine would be placed upon the entire townland. When the bills were inevitably unpaid, the army would move in and round up and impound the livestock of the area. This would cause huge poverty, cut off their means of paying tribute to landlords, and result in eventual eviction. All in, the existence of many was bleak. Diversion and sport was practically impossible. The Famine became a decades-long event in Donegal. The further failure of the potato crop in the late 1870s left those along the southern end of the county around Kilcar, Glencolumbkille and Killybegs barely able to make ends meet. Jonathan Bardon's 'A history of Ulster' held that, 'Living conditions in Gweedore were poor, with small homes built from turf; most had only a hole in the roof as a chimney and a low entrance acting as a doorway. Many had no windows and little space for habitation . . . Gweedore has a sad notoriety. Poverty and privation have been the portion of its peasantry.' During the Great Famine, occurrences of excess deaths in Donegal were significantly lower than other regions. Between 1846 and 1851 it was 10.7 per thousand, whereas a county such as Cavan, for example, had a 42.7 rate. A deserted famine house in Bloody Foreland, Gaoth Dobhair. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo What saved the worst excesses of suffering in the county was the established pattern of seasonal migration and emigration. With one of the lowest rates of literacy among the lower classes, parents were less inclined to encourage children into education, but to prepare them for the hiring fairs in Strabane and Letterkenny held twice a year, that could take their children away to labour for periods of six-months solid. Quite often, the venue was Scotland for the potato harvest, or 'Tattie hoking' as it was known. Ordnance Survey reports are typically unsympathetic to the plight of the natives – see Brian Friel's masterpiece, 'Translations' and the Captain Lancey character for further evidence. But in a statistical report taken by a real-life Lieutenant W. Lancey in May 1834 he cruelly noted about the public's lack of recreation around Downings, 'They are, like the rest of the country, not addicted to public sports. They appear either to have lost or never possessed a taste for feats of activity or manly strength, and all their leisure time is taken up in moping over misfortunes, real or supposed.' Advertisement Historically, there are many examples of two different types of hurling in Donegal. The earliest reference can be found a few miles outside Carndonough in the ruins of a 17th century planter's church ruin at Clonca, where a craved slab features a sword and a stick alongside a ball. By the 1800s Camán, also widely known as 'commons', was played on a restricted field with the ball – a wooden object known as a 'nagg' propelled along the ground. The other type was a cross-country affair, focussing more on ball-carrying and played across entire townlands. Beaches were suitable venues for games that were recorded in Gortahork and Magheraroarty. In the south of the county, once the final harvest of the year was cut in August, it would produce a frenzy of activity on the level fields. After the establishment of the GAA in 1884, Donegal started slow. Several clubs were formed in the east of the county, Letterkenny the furthest inland. With no county board to organise and sanction games, they depended on the Derry county board for sporadic games. Donegal clubs also were somewhat commitment-phobic, with an example of the Green Volunteers not fielding against The Joys, but later playing a soccer match against Derry club, Ivy. The historic connection to Scotland, along with the origins of Glasgow Celtic, goes a long way to explain the deep roots that soccer has in the county. When it came to Gaelic Games, the seeds fell on fallow ground for decades. That's not to say that sport had no presence in the county. The Protestant influence in east Donegal brought activity in hockey, cricket and rugby. Regattas would be contested by teams of fishermen on the Foyle and Lough Swilly. After the Irish Republican Brotherhood seized control of the GAA at a convention in Thurles Courthouse in 1887, the clergy in Derry began encouraging the working classes to play association football instead. The locals obeyed. The early hankering for hurling helped Donegal who, it might surprise to hear, have three Ulster senior hurling championship titles from 1906, 1923 and 1932. They reached the second final in 1904 to be beaten by Antrim. The same outcome occurred in 1905 though it is left unclear if that game was actually played, the title nonetheless going to Antrim. The 1906 championship reached its finale on 14 July, 1907, when Donegal beat Antrim on a recorded scoreline of 5-21 to 0-1 in Burt, a place that has deep hurling roots. Essentially though, Donegal took their own sweet time. The Prairie Fire that torched across the country in the spread of Gaelic Games was snuffed out on the bogs of Donegal. There were many factors. The lack of rail transport. The lack of anything approaching modern roads. The distances involved in organising GAA activities at board level, when the majority of meetings were held in Limerick Junction in Tipperary. It wasn't a particularly nationalist county, either. The level of Donegal involvement in the 1916 Easter Rising was minimal, if any. The Irish Republican Brotherhood tried to organise in the county and Ernest Blythe spent some time trying to rise numbers for the Irish Volunteers, but could only recruit 20 men. When the GAA's Central Council called for mass participation in Gaelic Games on 4 August 1918 in what would become known as 'Gaelic Sunday', almost 100,000 taking part in an act of civil disobedience with the RIC seeking permits for games, there was no record of activity in Donegal. Almost a year later, Ulster GAA held its convention in Derry on 16 March. Secretary Eoin O'Duffy was a huge figure in the War of Independence who led several lives. He would later become the first Garda Commissioner before raising an army to go and fight in the Spanish Civil War on the fascist side of General Franco. But Donegal have him to thank for their GAA culture as he personally formed a new county board, their first meeting being held in Strabane, Co Tyrone on 3 April 1919. This time, it stuck. The board would meet regularly. Six different regions were set up in a smart move to keep travel to a minimum. Clubs sprung up everywhere. In 1921, both Ardara and Glenties were formed in a spirit of nationalist fervour. That decade was one of consumerist growth. It all helped. In 1923 there were 9,246 motorcars registered in the county. By 1930, that figure had grown to 32,632. The county footballers first made an appearance in the Ulster championship of 1905/06 where they were beaten 0-20 to 0-1 by Derry. A year later and the score was 0-18 to 0-2. They checked out then until 1919 and became a fixture from then on. The country changed. Donegal may have been lagging behind but they were still moving forward. A dance in Donegal town in September 1921 was reported on as, 'Irish dances were in the ascendant. No jazzing or one stepping. Any attempt to introduce these ugly, disgusting things would have been immediately frustrated and criticised'. A year later, the people of Gaoth Dobhair went for it with full jazzing and one-stepping to beat the band and were rounded on by the local press. The establishment of the Department of the Gaeltacht went about revitalising those communities on the western seaboard, just as tourism was taking off and Bundoran was becoming an Irish Blackpool. Donegal was arriving. ***** Almost everything they achieved in Gaelic football had the imprint of two men: Brian McEniff and Jim McGuinness. For their first Ulster title in 1972, McEniff was a player who won an All-Star. He was also the team manager, at the age of 30. Two year later he repeated the trick and while the reigning Ulster winning manager, was ousted by a county board that were familiar with the whetstone. In all, he managed Donegal five times. He won five Ulster titles and an All-Ireland in 1992, when he carried a teenage McGuinness on the panel, nicknamed 'Cher' by the squad on account of his long curly black hair. Brian McEniff with the Sam Maguire, 1992. Billy Stickland / INPHO Billy Stickland / INPHO / INPHO McEniff's final stint as manager brought them to an All-Ireland semi-final loss to Armagh. But it was also achieved while he was the serving county board chairman. McGuinness has now also accumulated five Ulster titles: 2011, 2012, 2014, 2024 and this year to go along with the All-Ireland in 2012, while Declan Bonner managed Donegal to Ulster success in 2018 and 2019. Throughout the decades in the method of playing football, Donegal had a certain way of doing things. They were early adopters of the fist-pass and carried the ball tight to their chests. Even today, that's the Donegal house style. Work the ball through the hands. Your feet are for shooting. They don't apologise for that. In the past, McGuinness has linked the 2012 All-Ireland with the 1992 All-Ireland in terms of style. 'That identity, what goes on in club football with the wind coming in off the Atlantic, it happens every day of the week,' he said in an interview over the past year. 'That style got us over the line in '92 and it happened in '12 again.' The Donegal bench, with a teenage Jim McGuinness standing, await the final whistle of the 1992 All-Ireland final. Billy Stickland / INPHO Billy Stickland / INPHO / INPHO Now, you can point out that it all sounds a little fanciful given that other western seaboard counties such as Galway and Kerry have known a gust of wind in their time and haven't been afraid to give the ball an odd kick. But that was bred into him. Even when McGuinness was a teenage sub on the first Donegal team to win the All-Ireland in 1992, their full-back Matt Gallagher went the entire game in the final against Dublin without kicking the football once, instead laying it off with a handpass every time. Doing it their own way is the county character. Take the music for example. The Donegal style of Irish traditional music is very connected to the Scottish Highlands. Almost exclusively played by fiddle. The cradle of this music originates from the areas around Gaoth Dobhair, while Johnny Doherty of Ardara was the most famous and renowned exponent of popularising it. It is played with single bowing, making it choppy, staccato and raw. Not to say that it is unsophisticated, but there are those that can look down their noses at it. Put it this way: Donegal traditional music is the most distinct from the others. For reasons, primarily geographic and cultural isolation, it has absorbed precious few other influences. It won't surprise you to learn that their Sean-nós singing is fairly unique also. Again, they do things their own way. And there's a particular strength that comes with that. When Jim McGuinness made his complaints around having to play Mayo in Dr Hyde Park this year, he'd have known this was no huge injustice. Especially with Kerry having to play Meath in Tullamore the day before. Instead, he was channelling his former manager, Brian McEniff. During the 2003 championship, McEniff made an enormous noise about having to play an All-Ireland quarter-final replay against Galway, in Castlebar. 'A pilgrimage to Castlebar,' he called it when the venue was announced. Given that the opposition was Galway, some of the Donegal players sniggered at their quirky manager. But McGuinness – who appeared as an injury-time sub for Christy Toye that day – would have noted the support that Donegal garnered through McEniff's proclamation. 'It would only happen because it's us,' said McGuinness of having to go to Roscommon. If 2012 owed something to 1992, then the lessons taught by McEniff go deep. ***** In a way, it's absolutely amazing. At The Famine Village in Doagh, the proprietor Patrick Doherty talked of living in his family home with the thatched roof and the low entry. Related Reads 'One of my early years, I had the match played in my head a thousand times beforehand' David Clifford 'could be the best player that has ever played the game' - McGuinness 'It's challenging but it's adding to the entertainment' - Goalkeeper view on new rules There were a few 'back in the day' yarns, one which centred around how mothers treated teething weans to the long stems of seaweed, coiled up. The child would bite on the tough stem and the taste of sea salt would please them enough to stop the crying. Doagh Famine Village. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo What changed everything, he said, was the entry into the European Economic Community in 1973, and the acceleration of events in 1984. The Man From The Council would then come round to your thatched house and order it to be tumbled and replaced with a fresh house. The clothing company, Fruit of the Loom, came to Buncrana in 1987 and employed thousands. Ireland was modernising. Donegal's modernisation was gaining pace, building on the existing and improving tourism industry. Think about it. For a couple hundred years, they were few areas in Europe quite as remote as Donegal. People ate the seaweed and cockles off the beaches and what they could catch on a rod. Now, the world comes to them. To taste their now legally-distilled Poitín. To chew on the local seaweed and marvel at the few thatch cottages left. They sit in recreations of Irish wakes and lap up the folklore before grabbing coffee and traybakes, making plans to hear a little of that old time music later on in the evening. Americans, English, Europeans, Irish, they all come in their droves to rent out houses and take trips on the coach tours, marvelling at some of the most unspoiled views of western Europe; or at least those that have not entirely succumbed to Bungalow Blight. They have it made. In other ways, they don't. There are fishing vessels moored in the deepwater port of Killybegs that are valued around €25 million. In the past, they would have fished the waters nine months of the year with people employed the length of Bundoran to Falcarragh within the industry. Now, the boats can leave the harbour in late October but they have to be finished by the start of March. Other crews from Spain, The Netherlands and Portugal can dock in Killybegs and travel 15 miles outside the bay to fish their bigger quotas. That's got to rub a few noses in it. Even something as emphatically Donegal as a day on the bog is gone. People still 'win' the turf, but it's a clandestine affair and selling turf for burning has been banned since 2022. Given the misery of the mid-1800s outlined earlier, you'd be forgiven for believing that Donegal had never achieved prominence. Within the Donegal GAA crest is a right hand gripping a red cross, the coat of arms of the O'Donnell Clan. They ruled Tír Chonaill for centuries as old royalty of the Gaelic nobility system. Frequently warring with other clans, most notably the O'Neill's, their most famous member was Red Hugh O'Donnell who was instrumental in many battles during the Nine Years War. Eventually though, after red Hugh's death in 1602, Rory O'Donnell engineered the Flight of the Earls on 14 September 1607, taking the prominent members and supporters of the families in a ship holding a reported number of 99. An art installation commemorates the Flight of the Earls, Ramelton. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo Leaving for Spain in a French boat hired in Nantes six months previously, determined to seek Catholic support, particularly from Spain to challenge English rule in Ireland. It never happened for them. As they left Ireland behind them, nervously looking at the shores of Lough Swilly, paranoid that the English were aware of their plan, they left behind a leadership void. One that was filled by the Plantation of Ulster by English and Scottish settlers. The descendants of the O'Donnells and O'Neills would go on to die young on foreign battlefields or rise to nobility and loyalty in Europe. Prior to their departure, they had elevated Donegal to international renown. The contrast in centuries was hammered home in one letter to The Irish Times some years ago, when a daughter recalled telling her father that his native parish in Donegal was hanging on a wall in the Doges Palace, Venice, in the 17th Century. He replied: 'Imagine, the Venetians knew about us in the 1700s and Dublin only discovered us in the 1960s!' They know all about them now. ***** Check out the latest episode of The42′s GAA Weekly podcast here

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store