Bridie the Connemara pony.

On Wednesday evening we were sitting quietly after supper when there was an “anybody home”? Call from the door. Oi vey, we thought, bloody tourists! Nope – it was Tony, with a rope in his hand, to the other end of which was attached Bridie, the Connemara pony! “I've brought a friend to visit” he said! And he stayed and chatted for a good while, with us getting to know old Bridie again. She was very patient and calm, and just stood there savouring all the attention. She obviously dotes on Tony, as she was nuzzling his chest! They really do take good care of their animals, those Keanes. Very special lot altogether, and what a nice thing, to walk old Bridie all the way up to door to say howzit. She had been away off up the mountain across the valley for months, and we missed her a lot.

Apparently she is a kosher Connemara, and has the papers to prove it, but she isn't show material as she is the wrong colour!! Apartheid exists in the horse world! The best colour for Connemara's is apparently grey, and she is a deep brown – chestnut, I think they call it. The old girl is about 15 years old, and has had a pretty solitary life, alone on the mountains most of the time. Her mother and a couple of sisters were stolen – horse rustling is alive and well in these mountains! They didn't ever ride her, but she was used to haul fenceposts way up high on the mountains at one time.

"Bridie" is our name for the old girl, after we heard that the ruin in the woods across from us was "Bridie Lally's House". Recently, down at Keane's pub, I got chatting to a fellow at the bar (as you do!) and he said no, she was actually Biddy Lally, and he was the young chap who found her lying dead in the house, many years ago, when his parents had asked him to go up and check on her. She was a spinster, and lived alone up here. She had long blonde hair, and used to wash it in the stream that runs down the side of our house, and then sit and comb it dry in the sun on the big rock where our house now sits.

Hehehe – an Irish solution to an Irish problem! For the last few months we have been watching the progress of young Thomas's new house down there across Lough Bofin. That was where we first stayed when we came over here, in his Aunt Pauline's house just down the road – a dead-end, which up until 1935 was actually the route of the Galway to Clifden railway line.

Anyhow, young Thomas is a very pleasant young feller indeed, and the house is pretty big, for that neck of the woods, with a big double garage to one side – seperate from the house, as is the way round here. The walls went up, the roof went on (hope he's used tiles like we have, with an extra nail at the bottom, as he'll get a lot of wind where the house is) and the usual big mountain of topsoil was dumped next to the house. Ah, there's the garden now, we said. Sure enough, in due course it was spread out neatly – and then – extravagance of extravagances! - roll-out turf was laid out – instant lawn! Brilliant, but must have costaplenty!

Driving past tonight, what did we see dotted all over his brand new off-the-shelf lawn: SHEEP – a whole herd of them!! Jawelnofine, the lad obviously has run out of funds for the obligatory ride-on lawnmower, so why not just inspan the family herd to do the necessary?!! Fair play to ye, lad, as they say around here!! Nice one!!