All over the country the old shop has given way, or is giving way, to the new scheme of things. Whereas you used to move onto the benches beside the Guinness, ducking away from hanging sides of bacon, and survey the other contents of the shop from the comfort of your corner, you now have the drinking in the pub proper, while the other part of the premises, now much bigger - in fact a supermarket - is next door. The old system had a feeling of cosiness for the customer, but for the owner, the new order must be better. Only romantics or malcontents will grudge him his new, more comfortable existence. St Patrick's Day brings to mind some of the earlier exploits of a group of friends from Dublin who, from mid-February, once or twice a week were able to avail of the old system.
They would call, at this time of year, about 11 in the morning - when the fish would be well awake - for a drink and to reserve, for their call on the way home, a pound or two of excellent rashers which the boss - call him Eugene - stocked. This only partly in case the fish weren't rising. Generally they would have a chat about the state of the nation. He knew his locality well. If he had heard that one stretch of the river was fishing well, you would be told about it. If some one was selling out his land, you heard of it - not that any of the fishing party were likely buyers. In exchange, he heard of the city political gossip. For the four from Dublin, this was a great break. As they went their various ways up or down the river, fishing was only one of the objectives. About this time of year they would be comparing the emergence of the blackthorn flower with other years. You would note a new fencing. There might still be the boxing courtship of hares, though usually this was a month or so earlier. Today, in this part of Meath, there are few hares in spite of the warning notices. "Hunting dogs will be shot", or, "No hunting here".
To be out in the fresh air, to watch the endlessly changing river, that was the main thing. St Patrick's Day was avoided, because they were likely not to have the river to themselves. Where will you be today? A quiet river is a fine refuge. If you can find one. Y