Next Friday will be the 29^th of June which, in olden days, used to be a major social occasion in the calendar of events in Abbeyfeale. The Fair of Abbeyfeale dated back to 1705 and each year it attracted huge crowds to the town, and it was eagerly anticipated for several weeks in advance.

It was on this day that local farmers brought their livestock, vegetables and dairy produce to town and displayed them in The Square in the hopes of attracting buyers and selling at a good price.

The fame of the fair and the quality of cattle, pigs, etc. on sale were well known all over Munster and beyond, and dealers even came from as far away as Northern Ireland with their strange accents and satchels laden with white five pound notes, ready to bid on anything that moved!

But it wasn’t just a cattle fair. Salesmen arrived and set up their stalls along both sides of the street and, in no time at all, had attracted large crowds and were doing a brisk trade. These lads definitely had the gift of the gab and could sell snow to the Eskimos.

“Come over here Missus and try on this grand new headscarf made of the finest Japanese silk and imported all the way from Tokyo. And I’m not charging ten shillings for it. I’m not charging five shillings. I’m not even charging three shillings. I’m giving it away today for a miserly half a crown!”

The first one would be sold, and the others would quickly follow, as nobody wanted their neighbour to be better dressed than themselves

“This Abbeyfeale crowd will have me bankrupt in no time – so they will! Now, anymore for the scarves?”

You could buy virtually anything at these “standings”. Assorted work tools, copy books, biros, rulers, combs, cough mixtures, I-pods, clothing, shoes, bicycle pumps, flashlights, etc. They were even known to carry the occasional item of intimate feminine apparel which might not be readily available at the local drapery store. These would be discreetly wrapped in brown paper and quietly handed to the blushing recipients, while their husbands hovered anxiously in the background, more concerned about the disappearing egg money than any exotic delights that might await them later that evening.

Of course the day would not be complete without a few glasses of porter to keep down the dust and to cement the various transactions. Most pubs had a snug in those days and the women were expected to frequent these, leaving the men folk to discuss the weighty issues of the day in the main bar.

And as the day went on, a bit of singing might break out, followed by a bit of fighting, followed by even more singing. The main topics of conversation was usually cattle and land, and then football and politics, all of which would inevitably lead to the singing and the fighting. However, blood was rarely spilt to any great degree on these occasions and the protagonists usually parted the best of friends with drunken promises to meet again and renew acquaintances at the next June fair.

However, as one little man from Grogeen moved hither and tither through the fair in search of a suitable Friesian heifer with which he hoped to breed, he harboured a dark and desperate secret. A month previously, his wife of twenty years had left him and gone back home to her mother.

Like most domestic disputes, this one had started harmlessly enough but had quickly escalated into open warfare.

The little man had arrived down out of the room for his breakfast and had mildly remarked to his lady wife that his duck egg seemed a trifle undercooked. He also requested that the good lady might be a tad more careful when removing the top from said egg, as there appeared to be some eggshell embedded in the yoke. He further asked that a more generous dollop of butter might be applied to his cut of griddle bread and that the requisite amount of sugar be spooned into his mug of tea, with a drop of colouring added, and that the whole concoction be stirred accordingly in a north westerly direction.

Quite unreasonably, his wife took umbrage at these inoffensive remarks and the relationship quickly deteriorated into a ferocious and hysterical slanging match with each party calling into question the good name and reputation of the other to an alarming degree.

However, matters finally came to a head when the little man began to cast aspersions on the good lady’s lack of romantic fervour and physical enthusiasm, accusing her of being “no great shakes in the bedroom department.”

“It takes two to tango.” she replied. “And from now on you will be tangoing on your own because I’m going home to my mother!”

And with that, she flounced out the front door and strode off in the direction of Cahir, head held proudly high and with never a backward glance.

After a while, the little man calmed down and he began to regret the vitriol that he had directed at his errant wife, no matter that she probably deserved it. He believed that she would return to him – eventually, because there was no such thing as divorce and separation in those days. Marriage was for better or worse – and very often the latter.

Meanwhile, he needed to keep the whole matter quiet from the neighbours, so he settled on subterfuge. He let it be known that his lady wife was incapacitated and had taken to the bed, but that she would be up and about again as soon as her present malady had worn off.

“Are you alright there, Nonie?” he would call down to the empty room, as soon as concerned visitors arrived to offer felicitations. “I’ll have the bowl of goody ready for you presently, darling, and I have a drop of chicken broth boiling away in the little skillet over the fire – so I have”

Of course, he was fooling nobody. In a small town everybody knows everybody else’s business better than their own. However it was considered the height of bad manners to openly mention such matters, and the little man was, for the moment, blissfully unaware of the unbridled interest and hilarity that he was causing throughout the locality.

The truth was soon brought home to him in comical fashion as he moved through the fair in Abbeyfeale on the 29^th June in search of a suitable heifer. He quickly located an animal which fulfilled all of his requirements and which was being tended to by a neighbour at Joy’s Corner.

The two entered into intense negotiations and, with much spitting on hands and calls of “don’t break my word now” they finally arrived at a figure within just ten shillings of each other. But, if they were there since, would either of them back down! It wasn’t the money, it was the principal of the thing. You had two fiercely stubborn men locking horns and refusing to capitulate. It was stalemate and tempers began to rise.

“In the honour of God,” cried the little man finally, in sheer exasperation. “if you are not inclined to sell the bloody heifer, will you take her away home with you!”

“I will indeed,” replied the neighbour. “and what’s more – she’ll stay with me!”

DRAWINGS

from the winning design created by Aoife O’Connor of St Joseph’s Secondary School in Abbeyfeale for the Credit Union Poster Competition 2006 are being used by the local credit union on their Junior Saving Stamp Card which they have recently launched along with an Adult Saving Stamp Card.

AGM;

The AGM of the Abbeyfeale & District Manchester United Supporters Club will take place at Donal and Ann’s bar on this Friday night 29^th June at 9pm. All are welcome.

FAS:

A Retail Sales Course from Fas begins in Abbeyfeale on next Monday 2^nd July. Further details from Fas Newcastlewest at 069-666470.

TROCAIRE:

The annual Lenten Trocaire collection in Abbeyfeale this year came to €12,983. All are thanked for their generous contributions.

GAA;

Fr Casey’s defeated St Kieran’s by 0-10 to 1-5 in the senior county championship. And in the semi-final of the JAFL they defeated Cappagh by 5-14 to 1-4.