My birthday, which in the twilight of my life is now just another unwelcome milestone in this vale of tears, was marked this year by the State with the generous and hugely enjoyable gift of free travel. Immediately on receiving my pass, I whizzed to the station, only to find there was nowhere to park. By the time I had found a place, the train I had intended to take was pulling out. But was I bothered? No! I jumped on the train going in the other direction and went on a whistle-stop tour of Bagenalstown and Carlow.
Bagenalstown has the most delightful station in Ireland, an architectural gem. It is built of pale, grey Carlow granite in the Palladian style with a pedimented central block and matching gabled pavilions on each side. Carlow also has an attractive station, described as "neo-Elizabethan on a domestic scale". Here there is a plaque to William Dargan, who was involved in the building of many of the railways in Ireland. He was born near Carlow town at Killeshin, the son of a tenant farmer. As a youth he worked with George Stephenson on the Rocket and was the contractor for the Dublin to Kingstown railway, the first passenger line in Ireland. Dargan is quoted as saying: "Never show your teeth unless you can bite." He does not seem to have shown his teeth often and was one of Ireland's greatest philanthropists.
The train for my original destination, Waterford, drew in. Looking out from the window as we rattled along, there seemed to be less evidence than in many places of the Celtic Tiger, and the gorse was like heaps of gold sovereigns against the brilliant green fields. Farmhouses with slated roofs, surrounded by yards shaded with trees, were well settled into the land.
The gentleman sitting next to me said that it was very warm for the time of year, at the same moment as the lady across the table told us it was very cold. From these divergent viewpoints, we became united on the subject of the great changes that have taken place in Ireland - "not always for the better," we chorused. Then we went on to tell each other that one would not like to take a car to Dublin nowadays, but wasn't it great that they had put on more trains on this line?
We drew into Waterford where there is a railway museum which gave much pleasure to me and three little boys - though, alas, we were unable to make the model railway work. Included in the memorabilia are menus offering "Salmon Mayonnaise on Fridays and Fast Days for 5/=" and "Our Special for 3/6d". There is also a framed letter dated 1928 to M Cheevors, the station master, commending him for "keeping the line open for traffic during the campaign of malicious damage despite personal discomfit and in many cases danger". The directors enclosed £15 in recognition of his services.
Spreading my wings, I took the train to Dublin, passing Adamstown, the new station being built - alas with none of the panache of the older ones. No neo-Egyptian or Italian Renaissance here, as at Broadstone and Heuston.
The Luas was waiting to take me to Connolly or, as the lady I was seated beside on the train to Dundalk called it, Amiens Street. In 1846, the railway was opened by both Daniel O'Connell and the viceroy but for political reasons they could not appear on the same platform, not even a station platform, especially as O'Connell was about to be arrested for sedition. So on May 23rd, O'Connell, accompanied by a military band and with speeches and refreshments, stepped on the train for a triumphant short rail ride and then there was a repeat performance for the viceroy on the next day.
In 1918, it took a "special" one hour and seven minutes to cover the 112 between the commercial capital of Ireland, Belfast, and the official capital, Dublin. Now the Enterprise, with one stop at Portadown, takes an hour and 55 minutes. The line has a great view of sea and the Mourne Mountains. I am very pleased to be travelling by train but I would not go as far as a banner that hangs from a balcony of a newly constructed block of flats looking inland onto the railway. The banner reads: "New Luxury Apartments, Great View, Great Location".
The first time I was in Dundalk station, my aunt ran to meet us calling out, "The War is over, the war is over." That was not today or yesterday, but the station has only changed for the better since we danced on the platform. Now it is decorated with lines of poetry and the almost annual awards it has won for being the best-kept station in the State.
How I wish I had been there in 1936, when a huge black bullock with fierce horns escaped from a cattle truck and raced up the track towards Newry, pursued by an engine manned by civic guards and railway staff. After four miles, the bullock ran out of steam and was turned back to Dundalk where one man had been so frightened that he climbed up the signal post and stayed there until the bullock was safely incarcerated.
One of the pleasures for me on the platform in Dundalk is inspecting the wrought iron columns that hold up the roof. They have been carefully painted and, picked out among the ornamentation, is the name of my step-great grandfather, who had the ironworks in the town.
Travel, they say, broadens the mind and keeps one young, so "Tomorrow to fresh woods and pastures new", waving my pás saorthaistil.