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Irish Times
02-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Housewife of the Year review: A reminder that Ireland of the 1970s and 80s was no country for women of any age
If the 'Lovely Girls' episode of Father Ted was a horror movie, it might have looked something like Housewife of the Year (RTÉ One, Monday, 9.30pm). Ciaran Cassidy's documentary about the only-in-Ireland 'best mammy' contest, hosted each year by Gay Byrne through the 1980s and early 1990s, depicts the event as a glorified pageant for homemakers and a sort of Handmaid's Tale-type ritual that left women in little doubt where they stood in post-DeValera Ireland. Young, old, in-between – the film is a reminder that Ireland was no country for women of any age, and Housewife of the Year let them know it. Cassidy gets the tone exactly right, capturing the low-wattage despair that was part of the background radiation of early 1980s Ireland. When telling the story, there was surely a temptation to serve up a Reeling in the Years type nostalgia-fest – to portray Housewife of the Year as toe-curling and harmless cultural bric-a-brac, to be filed alongside Bosco and Live at Three. The director takes a different tack by interviewing a number of women who participated in this grim jamboree and who are today largely astonished by their naivety. The contrast between the picture they were required to present while on a podium next to 'Uncle Gaybo' – as he refers to himself – and their present-day selves is striking. Ann McStay talks about having had 13 children by the age of 31 and of having to take a bus to what was, in effect, a soup kitchen to feed her family while her husband sought refuge at the bottom of a glass. 'The more kids I had, the more he receded into the pub,' she says. 'He was probably a bit bamboozled'. She entered Housewife of the Year for the prize money and, emboldened by her victory, later spoke out against Ireland's medieval contraception laws. 'After I won, that gave me a bit of courage. You had to be very careful but you have to say it as it is.' READ MORE Just as striking is the story of Ena Howell, whose unmarried mother gave birth to her at the notorious Bessborough Mother and Baby Home in Cork; at the Housewife of the Year, her adoptive mother and her family were gathered on one side of the aisle while on the other her birth mother sat alone. Having reached out to her mother, Ena, we are told her half-siblings demanded she cut off contact. 'They couldn't accept that their perfect family wasn't perfect any more.' Housewife of the Year has many such stories – one woman describes being packed off to a Magdalene Laundry after a pharmacist passes on photographs of her innocently mucking about with some male friends to the parish priest. Another recalls how she became pregnant before marrying her husband and worrying this might be exposed during the contest. 'It was scary. There was still a stigma to it,' she says. 'I didn't want my eldest child to have to suffer anything.' But Cassidy also acknowledges not every mother in 1980s Ireland considered their life a patriarchal hellscape. 'I loved being a housewife,' says Patricia Connolly. 'It never entered my head to go out to work. I didn't have to. Your life revolved around your husband and children.' Gay Byrne doesn't cover himself in glory. As in his interviews on The Late Late Show with Sinéad O'Connor, he comes across as patronising and high on his own smarm. When one contestant reveals she is pregnant, he puts a hand on her waist and cradles his head against her baby bump. There is nothing licentious about the gesture – he isn't being a creep – but nor is he respectful of her personal space. Documentaries about Ireland under the Church are often defined by a sense of barely contained anger. Cassidy's film is in a different register: it radiates a deep sadness as it bears witness to generations of women for whom Ireland was a place of narrowed horizons and stifled opportunities. 'It's like a dreamworld – people accepted all these things,' says one contributor, sounding like someone stirring from a nightmare. Housewife of the Year can also be streamed on Apple TV+
The Guardian
27-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Paul Durcan obituary
Running through the work of the poet Paul Durcan, who has died aged 80, was a strong ironic engagement with contemporary Irish mores and manners, and much else besides. With his first full-length collection, O Westport in the Light of Asia Minor (1975), Durcan showed himself to be a poet of many gifts, and a complete original. He resembled no one else. His poetry is oblique, exhilarating, unsettling and diverting all at once, and never hesitated to take off into a realm of the surreal. The 22 collections that followed Westport between 1978 and 2016 are a testimony to the poet's inventive powers and his distinctive style, and established him among his contemporaries as a force for enlightenment, an artful riddler and rhymer, or the joker in the pack. Among the outstanding collections are Sam's Cross (1978), Going Home to Russia (1987) and A Snail in My Prime (1993); but certain key poems scattered throughout his body of work continue to make an impact. Six Nuns Die in Convent Inferno, for example, The Beckett at the Gate, Going Home to Russia, and Making Love Outside Áras an Uachtaráin (which cocks a snook at De Valera's Ireland with its pieties and prohibitions). Some are filled with erotic affirmation (Teresa's Bar), or are geared to repudiate misogyny, cruelty, bigotry and so on. The Troubles get a showing, with poems such as the beautiful and mysterious Riding School illuminating the conflict. And some of his poems are simply caustically hilarious: What Shall I Wear, Darling, to the Great Hunger? Incidentally, at one point he pokes amiable fun at the poetry reading (tedious, boring) – but his own readings brought him additional acclaim, with audiences mesmerised by the hypnotic timbre of his voice. The route by which anyone becomes a poet is a mystery, and with Durcan it is even more so. His talent was seemingly not inherited from any of his relatives, and before it burst into full bloom, the young Paul had a number of traumas to overcome, despite – or perhaps because of – being born into a Dublin family of legal high-flyers. His father, John Durcan, was a barrister and circuit court judge. His mother, Sheila (nee MacBride), had practised as a solicitor before marriage. Both his younger siblings became solicitors in due course, and it was expected that Paul would do likewise. He was educated at a Jesuit school, Gonzaga college, in the Dublin suburb of Ranelagh, and went on to University College Dublin to study, among other things, theology. But he never completed his degree. One of Durcan's characteristic practices is to start a poem by concocting an imaginary newspaper headline, or parodying an actual one, such as Cardinal Dies of Heart Attack in Dublin Brothel, for instance. By a singular irony, a comparable headline in the Irish Independent in 2007 alluded to an actual incident in Durcan's own past. Kidnapped by his Family and Put in a Mental Home, it read, referring to a time when things had turned dark for the 19-year-old student. Largely at the instigation of his father, Paul was forcibly removed to a psychiatric hospital in south Dublin, where he received a diagnosis of clinical depression. Worse was to follow: transferred to an asylum near Epsom, in Surrey, he underwent 27 crippling rounds of electroconvulsive therapy. (Durcan always maintained that whatever mental health problems he encountered throughout his life were created, not alleviated, by this awful treatment.) After it was over he returned to Dublin, chastened but not annihilated. He began to enjoy the company of fellow poets, including Michael Hartnett, Anthony Cronin and Derek Mahon, and became something of a protege of the normally aloof Patrick Kavanagh, in whose company at a wedding reception he met Nessa O'Neill. They married in 1969, and she remained an inspiration, a friend and an object of adulation for the rest of his life – even after the pair separated in 1984. They lived for a while in London, where Durcan worked for the gas board, and spent time studying paintings in the Tate gallery (painting was a lasting obsession – in 1991 he brought out a collection of poems about paintings in the National Gallery of Ireland, Crazy About Women). There was also an interlude in Barcelona, and a longer sojourn in Cork, from 1970, where Durcan took a degree in archaeology and medieval history at the university, and wrote a column for the Cork Examiner, while Nessa taught in a prison. But poetry, and life in Dublin, remained his principal resources. From the mid-1970s on, both his literary reputation and his idiosyncratic modus operandi were building up. He wrote extensively about his complicated relationship with his father. In the poem The Company of the White Drinking Cauldrons, from his collection Daddy, Daddy (which won the Whitbread award in 1990), Durcan wrote: I was the only creature in the world Daddy trusted,Which is why in later years he conspired to murder me. From a couple of poems, Going Home to Mayo, Winter 1949, and Crinkle, Near Birr, you get the essence of the story – one minute idyllic, in the former: … And in the eveningsI walked with my father in the high grass down by the river … And then a sour note entering in the latter, with the father calling his son a sissy and urging him to be a man. Then the beatings start – but in the end, a kind of reconciliation is effected. 'Estranged as we were,' he recalled in Hymn to My Father (1987), 'I am glad that it was in this life, / That I loved you.' It is significant that Mayo is the place where father and son are most vividly in accord in his work. Both of Durcan's parents were Mayo-born, and he remembers his paternal grandmother's house, 'all oil-lamps and women, / And my bedroom over the public bar below'. His mother was a niece of Maj John MacBride, who married Maud Gonne and was executed by the British in 1916 for his part in the Easter Rising. Durcan acknowledged his ancestral ties, but resisted the lure of ultra-nationalism. Parodying the 1916 visionaries' prescription for the country – 'Not only free but Gaelic as well, / Not only Gaelic but free as well' – in the two-line poem At the Grave of O'Donovan Rossa (1989), he states: Not Irish merely but English as well;Not English merely but Irish as well. Durcan was the recipient of many honours and accolades, including a lifetime achievement award at the 2014 Irish book awards. He was elected a member of the Irish artists association Aosdána, and was Ireland professor of poetry from 2004 to 2007. A selection of his poems, edited by Edna Longley, was published in 1982, and in 1996 Colm Tóibín edited a collection of essays on the Durcan oeuvre, called The Kilfenora Teaboy. In his last years, Durcan suffered from ill health, but he never relinquished his spirit or his formidable wit. Like his mother, Sheila – as he reported in 2003 in his prose collection Paul Durcan's Diary – he 'always had the keenest sense of the black joke of life'. He is survived by his daughters with Nessa, Sarah and Síabhra, by his son, Michael, from another relationship, and by nine grandchildren. Paul Durcan, poet, born 16 October 1944; died 17 May 2025
Irish Times
12-05-2025
- Politics
- Irish Times
An Irish diary on the day Winston Churchill attacked Ireland over its neutrality
On this day 80 years ago, Winston Churchill broadcast to the world in the wake of Nazi Germany's surrender ending the second World War in Europe. Having recounted proudly the heroic tale of Britain's triumph after near defeat, he turned to Ireland, kept neutral by the De Valera government, which had denied Britain use of Irish ports as a base to protect from U-boats the convoys carrying essential supplies from America. 'This,' Churchill intoned, 'was indeed a deadly moment in our life, and if it had not been for the loyalty and friendship of Northern Ireland, we should have been forced to come to close quarters with Mr de Valera or perish forever from the Earth. However, with a restraint to which history will find few parallels, Her Majesty's Government never laid a violent hand upon them and left the de Valera government to frolic with the German, and later with the Japanese representatives, to their heart's content.' Churchill then drew back, praising the 'thousands of southern Irishmen who hastened to the battlefront to prove their ancient valour' and named some, including Eugene Esmonde, the second member of his family to win the Victoria Cross for gallantry. 'When I think of Irish heroes,' Churchill reflected, 'I must confess bitterness by Britain against the Irish race dies in my heart. I can only pray that in years I shall not see, the shame will be forgotten and the glories will endure, and the people of the British Isles will walk together in mutual comprehension and forgiveness.' READ MORE Despite these eloquent conciliatory words, the speech struck a raw nerve here. Even the then pro-British Irish Times admitted to an uneasy feeling that Churchill had gone a little too far. At the time, de Valera was on the back foot, having made a foolhardy, if diplomatically correct, call on the German minister to sympathise on the death of Adolf Hitler, who died as head of state of a country with whom Ireland had maintained diplomatic relations. Now, Dev seized the chance to restore his popularity. On neutrality, he knew the vast majority of Irish people were with him. His reply defending it was a brilliant piece of rhetoric, long remembered in Ireland as his finest hour, the time he spoke for the whole nation. Less remembered is that Dev's reply made little impact outside Ireland, even in the United States, or that Churchill seems to have regretted his outburst becoming, ever after, conciliatory in what he said about independent Ireland. In 1948, he paid tribute in parliament 'to the orderly Christian society with a grace and culture of its own, and a flash of sport thrown in, built up in southern Ireland in spite of many gloomy predictions.' He added: 'I shall always hope that some day there will be a united Ireland.' He expressed regret when the Republic left the Commonwealth in 1949 because it 'dug a gulf between southern and Northern Ireland deeper than before.' Although Churchill still insisted that the consent of Northern Ireland must be obtained for unity, this sentiment cannot have been music to the ears of unionists there. Not a man to bear grudges, Churchill was oblivious to the widespread, albeit not universal, hostility still felt towards him in Ireland, for his criticism of the country's wartime neutrality and other past actions. He was blamed by republicans for precipitating the civil war they lost by insisting Michael Collins fire on those occupying the Four Courts. The misconduct of the Black and Tans during the War of Independence was also held against him. In 1954, Churchill was threatened with a libel action in Ireland arising out of his war memoirs. It was to be brought by Eric Dorman O'Gowan, an Irish-born general whom Churchill had dismissed during the Desert War. Combative whenever challenged, Churchill was up for a fight: 'I do not think,' he wrote to his legal adviser Sir Hartley Shawcross, 'an Irish jury would necessarily be unfair or that they would be prejudiced against me.' Shawcross was not so sure. He negotiated a settlement before proceedings were launched. A footnote exculpating Dorman O'Gowan from any blame was inserted in future editions of the memoirs.
Irish Times
11-05-2025
- Sport
- Irish Times
Sam Mulroy's storybook second half sees Louth win Leinster for the first time since 1957
Leinster Senior Football final: Louth 3-14 Meath 1-18 Liberation comes wreathed in red flare smoke, swirling down from the Hill and down through the decades. The Louth players skittered around Croke Park like bowling pins at the end, sent flying by 68 years of history. Leinster champions for the first time since De Valera was Taoiseach. They beat Meath here thanks to a storybook second-half from Sam Mulroy, who missed his first four shots after the break and then didn't miss again. They hung in there with three first-half goals, haymakers that just about kept them in a fight that they had been losing to a jabbing, accurate Meath. They are Leinster champions, the first non-Dublin ones since 2010 and all that. Mulroy shrugged afterwards when asked if the noise and controversy from that game 15 years ago had any affect here, shaking his head as if the very idea was ludicrous. He was a 12-year-old boy in tears in the Hogan Stand that day. Winning Leinster in 2025 has nothing to do with any of those old ghosts. 'I think it's just dedication and effort and buy-in from everyone bringing it to a new level and demanding more of themselves. People coming in, like Ger, and demanding more from us and seeing the bigger picture that we can do it. READ MORE 'As Ger always says, 'They have two legs and two arms, just like us.' No matter who we're playing. It was just a case of bringing everyone up to a level and up the ante and going after what we had to go after.' Meath's Mathew Costello and Louth's Peter Lynch. Photograph: James Crombie/Inpho They dug a fair hole for themselves here with a first half that threatened to get away from them a few times. Meath started better, bucking out to a 0-5 to 0-2 lead after 20 minutes. Ruairí Kinsella was everywhere, goalkeeper Billy Hogan came up and kicked a two-point free. On a day when Croke Park was in full bottle rocket mode, Robbie Brennan's side settled into it with minimal fuss. Louth caught hold of a lifeline when Mulroy iced a penalty on 20 minutes, after Donal Keogan fouled Kieran McArdle as he went to shoot for goal. And when the excellent Craig Lennon burst through to put Ryan Burns in for Louth's second goal soon after, you would have forgiven Meath for shrinking into themselves. They were suddenly 2-3 to 0-6 behind, pretty much out of nowhere. Meath didn't wilt though. Brennan has a mostly youthful team on his hands but they don't lack for courage. They came back at Louth and reeled off the next six scores in a row, one of them a two-pointer from the outstanding Kinsella. The young Meath centre-forward laid on scores from James Conlon and Seán Coffey into the bargain, leaving Meath 0-13 to 2-3 ahead a minute short of the break. There's a reason Lennon was Louth's first All Star in 14 seasons last year. He scythed through the Meath cover with a roadrunner break on 35 minutes, burying his finish into Hogan's top corner to keep his side breathing. It meant they were just a point down at half-time and bounced into the dressingrooms much the happier bunch. Meath's Donal Keogan dejected after the game. Photograph: Tom Maher/Inpho You wouldn't say they changed very much after the break but they were definitely much more on the front foot. There wasn't much of a wind in Croke Park but what there was, they had at their back in the second half, meaning they could take more shots and attack more of Hogan's kick-outs. Mulroy wasn't going to die wondering anyway – he came out blazing for two-pointers and missed with his first four efforts. But by bit, he found his radar. After missing an early 45, he finally nailed one on 50 minutes to bring Louth back to within a point. Meath had just seen Jordan Morris announce his return from injury with a point off the bench with his first involvement in the game. Little did the Meath fans celebrating at the time know that his point in the 47th minute would be their last of the day. Louth kicked on. Mulroy landed a beauty on the loop and then another off his left. With 10 minutes to go, they were back in the lead – 3-11 to 0-18. But some over-elaborate messing on the halfway line gave Meath a chance of a break. Again, it was Kinsella who got them going, feeding Morris who put Matthew Costello away for their only goal. Eight minutes to go, Meath ahead by a point. Louth's Bevan Duffy celebrates with his daughter Lydia after the game. Photograph: Tom Maher/Inpho The place was in orbit now, every possession a heart attack. The killer decision came on 65 minutes, referee Martin McNally award Louth a soft enough free 47 metres out. Mulroy didn't need to be asked twice and he nosed Louth into the lead again. For there on, they used all the experience from being in last year's final to see themselves home. Meath chased and chased but couldn't get the ball back. History can take a number. It's Louth's turn now. MEATH: B Hogan (0-2-0, 2tpf); S Lavin, S Rafferty, B O'Halloran; D Keogan (0-0-1), S Coffey (0-0-1), C Caulfield; J Flynn, B Menton; C Duke, R Kinsella (0-1-2), K Curtis (0-0-1); M Costello (1-0-1), J Conlon (0-0-1), E Frayne (0-0-4, 2f). Subs: J Morris (0-0-1) for Curtis (45 mins); S Walsh for Duke (53); A Lynch for Kinsella (62); D McGowan for Conlon (68). LOUTH: N McDonnell; D Nally, D Campbell, D McKenny; C McKeever, P Lynch, C Lennon (1-0-1); T Durnin, A McDonnell; B Duffy (0-0-1), C Downey (0-0-1), C Grimes (0-0-1); K McArdle, S Mulroy (1-1-5, 1-0 pen, 1tpf, 2f, 1 45), R Burns (1-1-1). Subs: C Keenan for McArdle (45 mins); Pl Matthews for McDonnell (46); C Byrne for Burns (62); D McDonnell for Duffy (65); E Carolan for Nally (70). Referee: M McNally (Monaghan).
