MY LATE friend and colleague, Dr Brian Inglis, a Malahide man, often compiled the Diary, on a regular basis under the pseudonym Quidnunc, many years ago. Brian had an abiding interest in the paranormal, on which he wrote copiously.
As a few of us sat in a time honoured hostelry the other night, Brian's name cropped up and it was only a short step from that to the question had any member of the company ever had a paranormal experience? None of us had ever seen a ghost or spirit, although two members of the group averred that they had heard the bean sidhe which, they insisted, followed their families.
My contribution was not spectacular, but at least it could be described as unusual. A Cork member of the group had the most interesting story to tell, although it was not a personal experience, of which more anon.
Cub Reporter
My contribution was as follows on an August evening all of over 50 years ago, I was cycling from Cashel to Clonmel, a distance of 15 miles, as a cub reporter, having completed an assignment for my newspaper.
It was a sunny evening and suddenly, about six miles from Clonmel, my bicycle went out of control. The handlebars swung with rapidity from left to right and from right to left, rendering it impossible for me to steer the machine and I fell, bicycle and all, to the ground.
I examined the machine carefully, but could find nothing wrong, whereupon I remounted only to fall again, this time rather heavily.
Having again examined the bicycle I remounted, but to no avail. I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to complete the remaining six miles or so on foot and set out, wheeling the bicycle. Having walked a mile or so, I decided to have another try. This time I cycled home without any trouble.
After supper, I took the machine out and cycled around town for a considerable distance, without mishap. From then on and for years afterwards, I used the bicycle almost daily and did not have the slightest trouble.
`Fenian Times'
Years afterwards, I recounted that story to a group of friends in Lonergan's licensed premises near Clonmel's West Gate. An old man who heard the tale leaned forward, said he lived near the spot where the incident occurred and confided, almost in a whisper, that a man had been shot there "during Fenian times", as he put it.
The Corkman's story referred to an incident which he averred was well documented and occurred on July 10th, 1848, at Tulladuff near Liscarroll in north Cork.
The story went as follows: One Geoff Collins and his workman, John Lee, were driving cattle to the monthly fair at Liscarroll. As they approached the spot known as the "Hanging Tree", Collins lit his pipe and handed the matches to Lee. Suddenly cries and caoiningi, rent the air and the two Then were gripped with fear.
The cattle stopped lowing and fled in all directions. Lee followed the cattle and Collins through bushes and into a nearby hollow to offer some help.
Collins said afterwards he stood rooted to the ground, because he swore he saw five women, two in their teens, three men and five children, one on a stretcher. He described their clothes as being of an earlier period. As he moved nearer, he said they were wailing, waving their hands and shaking their heads. Collins crossed the road and from a fence looked back, only to find the hollow deserted.
Historical Connection
On arrival at Liscaroll, he reported the matter to Sergeant Sugrue of the RIC, then in charge of the local police station. It was found, subsequently, that the spot known as the "Hanging Tree" had an interesting historical connection.
Local tradition was to the effect that in July 1798, a group of refugees fled from Wexford after the 1798 rising and headed towards Kerry and the safety of the Kerry mountains.
Yeomen and dragoons were searching the country for insurgents. A group was apprehended near the "Hanging Tree" and all were put to death.
Local tradition states this extraordinary vision has been reported with the coming of any national catastrophe such as the 1848 rising, the 1867 rising, the Parnell split and the 1916 rising.
What does one make of it all? "There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio."