Trevor Laffan

My grandson, Cooper, will be starting primary school next year and this could prove to be very interesting because he’s not a child who likes to sit still. He’s only just turned four, but he’s already had a plaster cast on his foot after he broke it jumping off a bed and he’s been stitched up a few times after various falls and mishaps.

When he is let loose in the school playground after being confined to a desk for a few hours, I’m pretty sure I know what’s going to happen. He’s going to run and jump and if there is something to climb, Cooper will be at the top of it. If there is a ball of any kind within his reach, he’ll be on it in a flash because that’s the kind of child he is.

He’s at his happiest when he’s on the move and that might present a problem if what I hear is right. Apparently, some schools are afraid of litigation, so they are tightening up on what kids can get up to while they’re on their break. Running and playing football could be outlawed because of a fear that a child could fall or be hit with a ball.

There say there are two things that are certain in life, death and taxes but I’ll add another one. Children running and playing football will fall and will be hit with a ball at some stage but it’s unlikely that any injury sustained will be fatal. Kids playing will have mishaps and no amount of intervention will change that.

Like others of my generation, I have scars on my body that stand out as reminders of different incidents and accidents that happened to me over the years, particularly during my childhood. I didn’t have to receive the Last Rites for any of them, but I imagine they were probably uncomfortable at the time. I survived the trauma and managed to reach adulthood relatively unscathed.

My parents never sued for compensation and I can’t recall any case where a civil action was taken against the school and there were probably a lot more reasons to do so back in those days than there are now. Those accidents were just accepted as part of growing up and nobody was held to blame. There was as much of a chance back in the sixties, of getting injured in the classroom or the head masters office as there was in the playground.

My primary school was run by the Christian Brothers and they weren’t slow when it came to dishing out pain. The principal was a particularly unpleasant man who liked using the cane and the usual punishment was three lashes on each hand. That was enough to make the eyes water and the fingers would sting long after the numbness wore off.

Things have changed since then but not always for the better. There was a case heard in a Dublin court not too long ago, where a child sued the school through her mother, for injuries she suffered after a fall in the playground.

She based her case on the belief that the staff had been negligent in failing to stop a game of chase during a lunch break in the school yard. The child fell and broke her arm and she sued the school for €38,000.

Thankfully, the judge ruled that games of chase in school yards throughout the country could not be prohibited. “I just cannot accept the proposition that they should. She was engaged in a game of chase pure and simple and, while it is most regrettable that she became unbalanced and fell, this was simply an old-fashioned accident and I fail to see any liability on the part of the school for that accident,” he said.

It was a sensible judgement. Any other decision would have had far reaching consequences for schools across the country and would have created a major headache for teachers. Just imagine trying to explain to several hundred children that they can either walk around the playground or stand completely still. Good luck enforcing that.

But anecdotally, there are stories circulating of schools restricting the activities of children in the playground because of the fear of litigation and increased insurance costs if someone gets injured. According to teaching unions, some schools have implemented a ban on students running in the yard because they are so fearful of accidents.

The insurance industry has said it is not responsible for restricting activities in schoolyards and as far as they are concerned, it’s up to school staff to decide what is appropriate for the children in their care. They have issued guidelines in relation to the supervision of children during their breaks, but nothing more than that.

But I suspect the school staff may have an ulterior motive for preventing the children getting too excited in the playground and rather than trying to prevent injury to the kids, they might be trying to prevent accidents of another kind.

Fianna Fail TD, Fiona O’Loughlin, said that some schools are asking students to bring their own toilet paper to school because of rising costs. She felt it wasn’t fair on students to have to bring their own supply and I’m inclined to agree with her. According to Ms. O’Loughlin some schools can’t afford to buy toilet rolls.

Back in the day, outside toilets often had pieces of newspaper hanging on a bit of string that acted as a toilet roll holder. Maybe we’re going back to those days.

Either way, schools better come up with a plan because if you have hundreds of children running and jumping around the school yard without as much a single square of toilet paper between them, things could get very messy.

There’s no doubt that modern day policing has its challenges and the boys in blue never know from one shift to the next what they are going to encounter. While that has always been the case, society has become a lot more violent in recent times and life for the average policeman is way more complicated than it was 100 years ago.

I have been looking at some of the incidents that ended up in court in 1915 as reported by the Cork Examiner at the time. Society might have changed a lot over the years, but some things still remain the same and alcohol was playing a part in court reporting back then just as it is now.

A publican in the city centre, was summoned for a breach of the Licensing Laws on a Sunday in 1915 and two women were summonsed for being on the premises during prohibited hours.

Constable Conlon was on duty at the time with Constable Carroll at 12.40am. While they were passing along Cove Street they heard a noise coming from the pub. They saw the side door was slightly ajar and went in and found three women and four men on the premises. They also found freshly drawn stout or porter in vessels in the same room.

The women were not there, according to the publican, for the purpose of getting drink. One of the women was described as being a servant in the house, and another was described as ‘a gossip of a woman who lived upstairs’. They claimed they were there to visit a lady, who was ill in bed, but the publican was fined 20s, and the women were each fined 2s 6d.

Pat McCarthy, was summoned by Sergeant Gloster for having allowed his donkey to wander on the public road. The sergeant said that this was not an ordinary case at all. This was a very vicious donkey, and a woman had shown him that her child had been bitten by it. The donkey was a great source of danger in the locality. It had actually chased the sergeant himself, and this brought laughter to the court.

The defendant claimed that he had put the donkey into private property, but youngsters had broken down the paling and allowed it out. It was only when the children annoyed the donkey with sticks that he chased them. Sergeant Gloster said there was no paling and the owner was fined 1 shilling.

In a separate case, a licensed publican on Gerald Griffin street, was prosecuted by District Inspector Simey, for having unlawfully permitted drunkenness to take place on her licensed premises.

Sergeant Clarke stated that he entered the publican’s premises on the day in question. In the tap-room he found Joseph Cummins helplessly drunk. He was seated on a bench with his head on his bands, and the floor had the appearance of vomit, and he was covered with ashes and sawdust.

There was a glass full of porter near Cummins, but the publican said it belonged to another man. Two men lifted up Cummins, who was unable to stand, and he had to be assisted home. The publican said he had tried his best to eject him and the case was dismissed.

A licensed publican in Wolfe Tone St., was summoned for having allowed a woman to be on the premises during unlicensed hours. Sergeant Gloster gave evidence that he saw her enter the premises, and she subsequently left with a jug containing a pint of porter under her shawl.

The publican gave her the drink on the representation that it was required for a woman who was nursing a sick child, but he was still fined 20 shillings.

Anne O’Brien, a shopkeeper, was prosecuted for having sold to Sergeant Brady, an Inspector under the Food and Drugs Act, a pint of new milk. It was not of the nature, substance and quality of pure new milk, being deficient of butter fat. Three per cent was the standard percentage of butter fat required but the analyst showed that there was only 2.4 per cent in the sample.

The defendant said she sold very little milk and what she bought was intended principally for use in her own house. What milk she sold, would not leave half a crown profit in the year. There was very little milk in the pan when the sergeant came in, but she was fined 2s. 6d.

I’m sure the lads in Anglesea Street today would be quite happy if their biggest cause for concern was detecting shop keepers who were watering the milk around the city.

Michael Healy, a hackney car driver, was summoned for having furiously driven a horse on Saturday, at 10 p.m. in George’s street, and for having used obscene language on the same occasion. The constable stated that on the night in question he was on duty outside the Post Office, when the defendant drove his horse along George’s street at such a furious pace that the crowds of people had to run out of the way. As the driver passed, he made use of obscene language.

The solicitor who appeared for the defendant contended that, though the constable no doubt believed that his evidence was correct, he maintained that it was exaggerated. He could not understand how the constable could possibly hear the obscene language, if the horse was going at such a furious rate and making such a row when galloping on the hard pavement.

The driver had six previous convictions recorded against him and was fined 15s. and costs for the furious driving and 5s. and costs for the obscene language.
Fortunately, hackney drivers these days are a much more pleasant bunch and would never dream of swearing at the public or driving furiously.

I wasn’t surprised to hear that a judge recently described as “extraordinary”, that almost two thirds of a Cork seaside town’s raw sewage was being pumped directly into the local harbour. Tom Tuite reported in the Irish Examiner, that Judge John Brennan said he had “grave concerns” and it was “extraordinary” that in 2018 raw sewage was being pumped into the sea there.

That might be news to some people, but not me because I witnessed it for myself many moons ago. Back in the 1970’s, I was working with my father who was in the building game at the time, and we were called out to a house where there was a problem with the sewage system. The owner of the house was a client of his and her system was completely backed up.

It was an old house with a long back garden on the outskirts of Cobh, looking across the river at Passage West. It was a lovely spot, particularly on a sunny day. The garden overlooked the river, or a stony beach, depending on whether the tide was in or out.

Anyway, we set about our task by lifting the manhole cover and we used sewer rods to try to dislodge the blockage. Despite adding more and more rods, we were making very little progress. It was a hot day and all the pushing and pulling was starting to take its toll. The odour wasn’t exactly helping either.

We decided to try another approach, so we poured caustic soda down the drains and into the manhole. Caustic soda is tricky stuff, so we mixed it in a galvanised bucket and handled it carefully because it’s toxic.

We left that to ferment for a few hours before returning for a further assault with the rods. After lots more pushing and pulling, there was a distant rumbling sound as if there was thunder in the air down around Youghal.

The rumbling grew a bit louder and the ground started to vibrate a little underfoot like a mini earthquake. Suddenly there was a whoosh and a ton of raw sewage shot out through a pipe at the end of the garden and sprayed the beach below. It was like a bazooka and if anybody had been in the line of fire that day, they could have been buried under a pile of excrement.

Even though I knew that sewage was going directly into the harbour, it was still a shock to see so much of it in one go and that was just from a few houses. That was 40 years ago, and the population of the town has grown a lot since then.

When you consider the number of coastal villages, towns and cities around our island that are replicating this effluent disposal system and the amount of plastic we’re also adding to the oceans, I’m surprised that we can’t walk to Scotland at this stage.

An Environmental Protection Agency inspector told Judge Brennan that Castletownbere had a population of about 1,300 and 64%, of the waste there was untreated and carried by a pipe and discharged directly into the town’s harbour. When he lifted a manhole, he could see human waste travelling out into the harbour untreated.

Their sewage was discharged directly into the sea at a nearby beach. He showed the judge photos of it including one where children could be seen playing just 50 metres from a culvert carrying the sewage into the sea.

Irish Water said that every day, the equivalent of 20,000 wheelie bins of raw sewage is released into Cork Lower Harbour from the communities living around it. In 2014, there was the equivalent of 40,000 wheelie bins of sewage every day being dumped into the sea and that has been halved and by the time the main drainage project is completed in 2021, this will be reduced to zero.

I have always admired the Garda Water Unit for the difficult work that they do but they aren’t being paid half enough considering that they spend their time diving into an enormous septic tank.

When I lived in the countryside, I had a septic tank. For city slickers who have no idea what I’m talking about, a septic tank is a concrete container situated in the garden that collects the waste from the toilets. The tank has a drain which allows the liquid to filter into a soakaway, which is basically a huge hole full of stones. The solid waste remains in the tank and is reduced by bacteria. Every few years this tank is emptied, and, in some cases, it may never need to be cleaned out.

Before selling that house, Cork County Council insisted that I had to upgrade my system because it had been in place for over thirty years. So, I hired a guy to dig a new soakaway and some new drains that ran the length of the garden. An engineer passed it as fit, but Cork County Council had other ideas.

They instructed me to replace the tank and more or less start from scratch. So, I had to get the same guys back again to undo all the work they had done previously and put in further drains. It was a big job.

That work cost me a lot of money and aggravation, because Cork County Council were concerned about protecting the environment. Their concern for Mother Earth is admirable but while they were giving me a hard time, they were also allowing the equivalent of 40,000 wheelie bins of untreated raw sewage to be poured into the harbour every day.

But I think they have a secret plan. I reckon they got me to do all that work because they’re going to dump it all in my new tank.

When I was a young lad, we were always complaining that the guys from the Naval Base in Haulbowline were coming to Cobh and taking all our girls. They were worse than pirates.

Many of them weren’t even from Cork. They came from far flung places like Wexford and Clare and some of them were even Dubs. Many of them eventually ended up getting married and settling in the town and we were forced to grant them asylum. Over time, we learned to live with it.

I recently heard some people complaining about foreigners coming over here and taking all our jobs. They were moaning about how these people will chance their arm at anything while they can’t even speak English. Sounded like the Navy was up to its old tricks again, but it wasn’t that. They were talking about the Polish community.

I think that’s unfair, and I want to set the record straight. I have met a lot of Polish people over the last ten or twelve years and my experience has been very positive. I think they are a tremendous asset to our county and I’ll tell you why.

I was in PC World looking for a laptop computer. My knowledge of electronics is fairly limited so I was relying on help from the assistants. I was lucky enough to meet a guy called Pawel, pronounced Pavel I think. As the name suggests, he is from Poland, and he has great command of the English language and he knows his way around a computer.

He told me all about tetra bites, megatrons, Inspiron thingy’s and milky bars and a whole bunch of stuff that went straight over my head. Once he realised what kind of an idiot he was dealing with, he began using baby talk and then he started making sense to me. He was a very good humoured, knowledgeable guy who went out of his way to help me. I followed his advice and everything he told has turned out to be right.

On another occasion, myself and my wife called into in our local bank to check on how our millions were doing. We were dealing with a girl who is very pleasant with a smiley face and she is extremely efficient. Her name is Romana and I asked her about the name. I had heard of Ramona, but I had never heard of Romana and I thought that maybe it was a misprint on her name tag.

She explained that her name is Polish and that she has been living in Cork for the last ten years. I was surprised to hear that because to me, she had a local accent. That shouldn’t have surprised me but it did.

Then I thought of a Polish family who rented our house a few years ago while we were trying to sell it. They were a married couple with a few children and they stayed there for a couple of years. They were great tenants and we never had an ounce of trouble from them. When they left, the house was in better condition than it was when they moved in. It was spotless.

One of the reasons we moved from that house was that there were a lot of trees around the property and a fair amount of hedging and it took a lot of maintenance. Eventually, I had to farm out that work and I came across a couple of guys who looked after it for me and they did a great job and they too were Polish.

I was having trouble with a few windows in my current home for a few years. They weren’t closing properly at the top or the bottom, only in the middle so they were draughty.

I made lots of calls to different window people over the years and I got various answers, but most companies told me they couldn’t do anything. One guy told me he could solve my problem for a zillion Euro while others had no interest and never got back to me.

I rang one company and explained my difficulty to a lady and she told me that somebody would contact me. When a week passed by and I didn’t hear anything, I called her back. She told me that she had passed on my message and she couldn’t do anymore so she advised me to ring this man myself. Needless to say, I didn’t bother.

Then one day out of the blue, an advertisement popped up on the Internet offering a professional service for repairing windows and doors. I sent off an email and the following morning at 7.45am I got a reply offering to call to me the following day at 11am. I wasn’t holding my breath but at the appointed time there was a knock on the door.

This window man introduced himself and as it happens, he is from Poland. He came over here about ten years ago, saw an opening and set up his company. He did a very professional job at a reasonable price and solved my problem.

I can remember, in a previous life, I had responsibility for engaging with members of the new communities in Cork City and at one stage during the 2000’s it was estimated that there were about 30,000 Polish nationals living in the greater Cork area.

While it was always expected that many of them would return to Poland when their economy improved, it was also acknowledged that many of them would stay and make Ireland their home and many did.

I, for one, am delighted they’re here. My experience has been absolutely positive and as far as work ethic and professionalism go, they could teach some of our home grown heroes a thing or two.

There was a story in the Echo recently about how a former Cork City Lord Mayor, Des Cahill, had a moment of enlightenment on his way to work one morning. While entering the city hall through the car park, he spotted a guy on the stairwell who appeared to be acting suspiciously.

As he got closer, he realised that it was a guy preparing to inject himself with heroin. He was surprised, especially as it was only 11am but he called security and they dealt with the issue. He said it is regrettable that drug use is creeping into daily life in Cork and presenting a public hazard.

While he felt sorry for the guy, he also had a responsibility to the public who are being put at risk. He said that drug use has become part of modern life in Cork and the resulting hazardous waste is posing a threat to the public.

He was worried about the damage open drug use could be having on our city’s image. On another occasion, he spotted a couple preparing heroin close to Oliver Plunkett Street at the very moment some tourists walked by.

Mr. Cahill is worried. So am I, but the most worrying aspect of this story for me is that he’s only becoming aware of this issue now. This is 2018 and addicts shooting up heroin on the streets of Cork has been going on for a long time.
Drug use in public spaces around the city has been an issue for many years and finding discarded needles and other drug paraphernalia in the streets, parks and playgrounds has been highlighted regularly for more than ten years at least.

In 2010, while I was responsible for community policing in Cork City, I approached the main stake holders working with those with addiction issues. I set up a group with representatives from An Garda Siochana, Cork Simon, HSE, Cork Drugs Task Force and Cork City Council. I had hoped that with the knowledge and expertise available around the table that we might formulate a plan to provide a safe injecting centre with the necessary support services available to the users.

This group was very positive and met monthly for a couple of years. I retired since, so I have no idea if this group is still in existence, but I doubt it, given the current state of community policing nationally. The initiative was started because of the obvious need but maybe Cllr. Cahill was never informed. The fact that he is shocked at the current state of drug use in Cork doesn’t fill me with hope for the future.

Another issue that was highlighted recently was the rise in anti-social behaviour. Justice Minister Charlie Flanagan insisted An Garda Siochana was tackling the issue “head-on”. The Department of Justice said addressing the concerns of communities was a key focus for the Garda. He said that the Government remained committed to ensuring gardai have the necessary resources to tackle “all forms of criminality in our communities”.

Bus Eireann has expressed concern about stone throwing incidents at buses in Munster which can lead to services being suspended or diverted. Shane Ross said that the “safety and security of passengers and staff is of paramount importance”. He has asked officials to engage with transport companies to combat anti-social behaviour and he will be discussing the matter with Mr Flanagan.

These concerned politicians are outraged and promising to make things better but unfortunately, it amounts to nothing more than hot air and a few fancy sound bites for the media.

Even though I’m now retired, it still frustrates me to hear the likes of Charlie Flanagan and Shane Ross spouting nonsense about resourcing and supporting the gardai. It infuriates me when I hear the Department of Justice suggesting that addressing the concerns of communities is a key focus for the Garda and promising that all resources will be made available to them. That’s what they said when they disbanded community policing.

Community policing had many strands to it, but primarily it was about engaging with the public and developing relationships within the various communities. Many of us spent 20 years fostering these relationships, creating trust and trying to resolve the issues affecting their daily lives.

One of these strands was the Garda Schools Programme, which introduced community gardai to primary school students. It took away the mystery of the uniform and educated them on the value and importance of the work done by gardai and the other emergency services.

We pointed out the negative aspects of damaging public transport and having buses removed from service because of broken windows caused by stone throwing and the consequences of that behaviour for their families and neighbours. They were told about looking out for the elderly, the importance of road safety and the importance of having respect for others.

This was just one small approach, but it was where relationships began with the youth in the community and as they developed into young adults, we got to know each other. When we met on street corners, we could talk to each other and it made a difference.

All that work and so much more was discarded by Martin Callinan, Noirin O’Sullivan and Francis Fitzgerald and other politicians like Charlie Flanagan who endorsed it. They decimated community policing while pretending that the community was still receiving a quality service when everyone knew that wasn’t the case.

Now Des Cahill is surprised that we have a serious addiction problem in our city and Charlie Flanagan can’t figure out why the young people are running out of control. They took away the very people who were trying to keep a lid on these issues but now they’re at a loss to figure out where it all went wrong.

Later in the year, myself and my buddy John O’Connor, will be heading off to Cyprus for a break. We both love the place and have been returning there for years since we worked in that part of the world with the United Nations.

We’ll travel light. A small hold all each, with a few bits and pieces to keep us going. We’ll chuck the dirty stuff into the washing machine every couple of days and hang them on a clothes horse on the balcony for a day and we’re good to go again. Ironing isn’t included because we feel it adds character to the clothes. It also uses up valuable drinking time. So off we go with the minimum of fuss and just chill out.

On the other hand, I am now preparing for a holiday to Portugal with my wife Gaye. I have my usual trusty hold all and she has one as well. But then we have something else. It is loosely called a suitcase but is in fact something that has been designed by a structural engineer and is heavily reinforced.

It needs to be built like this because of what goes into it. There will be at least six pairs of shoes. She is like most other people in so far as she has only two feet, so she can only wear one pair at a time. After 35 years, I know that there is no point asking her why they all need to come for the spin so it’s easier, and wiser, just to say nothing.

There will be some coats and jackets in case it gets cold. The reason we’re going to Portugal in August is because it is reasonable to assume that it will be warm. It might get a little cool some evenings but not enough to warrant bringing a fur lined ski jacket.

There will be casual clothes for just hanging around in, beach clothes for obvious reasons and good clothes for going out in the evening. Heaven forbid that casual clothes would make an appearance after 6pm in the evening while fine dining at a table on a footpath outside a glorified fish and chip shop.

There will be a bag of assorted goods like toiletries, sun creams and a ton of make-up. I haven’t been to Portugal for about twenty years but even back then they had supermarkets where you could buy pretty much anything you needed. They are not short of sun cream on the Algarve or anything else for that matter.

Another item that will have to travel will be the dreaded hair straightener. This piece of equipment might not bother many people, but it strikes fear into me and I don’t want to be looking at it while I’m trying to relax, and I’ll tell you why.

A few weeks ago, my GP decided that I needed to have a biopsy on my prostate, so I was sent to the Cork University Hospital. I was, naturally, a little apprehensive because I’m not particularly fond of people interfering with that part of my anatomy. It had been explained to me that the procedure would involve taking some samples from the prostate and the prostate would be accessed from the rear. My rear.

I sat in the waiting area for a bit trying to figure out how uncomfortable this process was likely to be, and I had convinced myself that on a scale of one to ten, ten being the most painful, it was likely to be a one. A two at the most. I mean, how bad could this thing really be? It’s 2018 after all and we have all this technology, so I decided to relax and not think about it.

My name was called and suddenly my palms got sweaty, but I was doing ok. I was putting on a brave show for the other guys who were waiting and watching to see if I would live through the experience. A nurse walked slowly beside me and I was reminded of the film ‘The Green Mile’. Dead man walking.

I was taken into a little room and I was being prepped for what was coming when I spotted this piece of equipment standing upright in a holder next to the bed that I was to lie on. It reminded me of a hair straightener and I was suddenly filled with fear as I began to appreciate where this thing would soon be going. A doctor came into the room and sat behind me and told me to relax. Yeah, right!

It was oven and done with, in about twenty minutes and as I walked back to the waiting area I was conscious of the other eyes watching me trying to figure out if I had been scarred for life or if I had suffered only mild discomfort. I was doing my best for them, trying to offer some hope, but I felt as if I was walking like John Wayne after spending a week in the saddle.

I had some discomfort for a few days afterwards but gradually everything returned to normal but it’s not an experience I would volunteer for again in a hurry. I don’t have happy memories of that day which is why I have an issue with the packing.

By the time she’s finished filling the case, I will probably have to hire a couple of body builders from the local gym to carry it down stairs. The weighing scales at the check-in at the airport will probably groan under the strain and insist that I pay a thousand Euro extra for being over-weight.

But I don’t care. I’ll gladly pay whatever it takes just as long as the hair straightener isn’t inside it.

You know you’re pushing on when most of your friends are either retired or about to retire. It’s a sign that time is marching on and it’s not making any allowances for you no matter how special you think you are.

As one friend put it, we’re in the departure lounge. He might be right but I’m not ready to pop my clogs just yet. It’s not all doom and gloom though because times have changed and we’re living longer so I won’t be planning my wake for another while. At least, I hope not.

There was a time when life was more predictable. We spent our formative years in school, dealing with whatever torture was inflicted upon us at the hands of our tormentors and then we left. Battered and bruised, we headed towards the next stage of life which was employment.

Those who listened to their mothers, gravitated towards the bank or the civil service. The select few went on to third level education. Others learned a trade while the rest grabbed a pick and a shovel and made their way through life as best they could.

Everybody worked until they reached the age of 65 and then prepared for retirement. They got a gold watch, a pipe and a pair of slippers and that was that, all the best.

I often wondered why it was determined that a gold watch was the best thing to give to someone retiring. They got a quality time piece at the very stage in their lives when they no longer needed to know whether it was day or night.

It would have made more sense to give new employees a gold watch when they started working so they would turn up on time, and then take it off them when they retired. Not the other way around.

Anyway, back in the day, retirees took up gardening, if they had a garden, or else they just sat by the fire and waited for the inevitable. Leisure activities weren’t as common as they are now, and people weren’t as fit either. Jogging was unheard of and if you saw someone running on the road you just assumed they were being chased by an angry husband or a police officer.

It wasn’t unusual for people to die within a few years of retiring but that has changed. We are living and working longer which means that we must change the way we plan for our old age. There will be more of us around so there will be a greater demand on the services of those who devote their lives to caring for oldies like us. They will have to work harder.

The notion of a long and healthy life is a welcome prospect for most of us, but a shorter life would be preferable if things become unpleasant. Few of us relish the idea of having to be spoon fed or having to be introduced to our family members every time they visit.

Financial independence is another concern because nobody wants to be a burden on the family.

The days of guaranteed 30 to 35 years of secure employment are well gone and long-term job security is rare. That presents a difficulty for people entering the jobs market because while the odds favour them living longer, the chances are that they won’t have a job for life, but they will still have to support themselves.

Retirement is a major life event for us all and we need to be ready for it. Those who have an active social life with interests outside work, seem to adapt better than those whose lives revolve around their workplace and their colleagues.

It’s very much an individual thing and there are many retirees who will tell you they find it hard to pass the time while there are plenty more who will tell you that there aren’t enough hours in the day.

But the way things are going, todays’ young people won’t be retiring until they reach their nineties. They won’t have to worry about what they are going to do with their free time because they won’t have any. Especially if they live in Japan.

The Japanese population is getting older and remaining healthier and now it seems that they may need to work longer too. Economists say if Japan wants to solve its labour shortage, it will have to keep people working into their seventies. It has one of the world’s oldest populations with over a quarter of the people being over 65 years of age.

Japan has the world’s longest life expectancy and it estimated that by 2050, women in the country on average, will live past 90. They also have a low birth rate which means that the working population is shrinking while the number of workers over the age of 65, rose to 7.3 million in 2015.

Germany, France, Italy and the UK have all agreed to raise the state pension age between now and 2028 and it’s rising here too. So, don’t be surprised to see old policemen shuffling after arthritic robbers or ancient taxi drivers going around in circles with passengers who have forgotten where they live.

On the other hand, journalist, Alistair Cooke read his weekly Letter from America, to an estimated radio audience of 34 million until a month before he died at ninety-five. David Attenborough is still trundling through the rain forests at ninety years of age.

Old age might get very confusing, but thankfully, I don’t have to worry about that for now. But I feel sorry for the young lady who just walked into my house claiming to be my daughter and the child with her who seems to think I’m his grandad. They’re very young to be losing the plot.

Will Goodbody of RTE presented a series of reports on TV recently about the accident in the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant in the Ukraine back in 1986. He looked at the fallout from the accident and the effect it had on the people living in the surrounding areas.

It’s the first programme I have seen on that subject for quite a while, but there was a time when it was never too far from my mind. A time, when for a group of us, it occupied our thoughts, morning, noon and night and regularly took us away from our families.

It’s twenty years since myself and John O’Connor were fundraising around Cork city and county for Chernobyl related charities. We probably drove people nuts back then with all the fundraising events, but we collected a lot of money through the generosity of Cork people.

We also collected a huge amount of medical supplies, clothes, toys and food stuffs. School kids loved to get involved in those days and they brought their packets of rice, pasta or whatever into the classroom. We weren’t the only ones at it either, it was going on across the country and for a few years it was almost a national obsession.

Chernobyl was a big story at the time and Irish people responded in a massive way to the plight of the sick children and they answered the call as they always do. These days, it’s not so topical and there are many younger people who have never even heard of Chernobyl. After all, it happened over 30 years ago.

It was on April 26th, 1986 that the nuclear disaster occurred at the Chernobyl plant in the former USSR (now Ukraine). At 1.23am the core in a reactor was blown apart by a massive explosion releasing its deadly radioactive contents high into the air. It remains the world’s worst civil nuclear disaster. An official exclusion zone around the plant remains in place, extending for 30 kilometres and it is one of the most radioactive places on Earth.

John and I took part in several humanitarian aid convoys to areas of Belarus and Western Russia that were affected, and we spent a few years driving trucks and ambulances there to deliver food, medical supplies and clothes that were badly needed.

We often had up to a hundred people travelling on these convoys, in a fleet of trucks, vans and ambulances. We crept across Europe like a long lumbering snake, making slow progress. Getting a group that size from Ireland to Belarus was challenging and these convoys often stretched out for a couple of kilometres along the road.

Just getting everyone into a filling station for fuel and back onto the road again was complicated. Keeping everyone together was also challenging, particularly in traffic, but over time we became very efficient at it.

Sleeping in the vehicles was uncomfortable at the best of times but especially when the weather was cold. Finding a space to lie down in the cramped conditions wasn’t always easy either. We made the best of it though and each vehicle was fitted with a CB radio, so the airwaves were always full of banter and slagging.

Delivering aid to the various villages, orphanages, day care centres and hospitals was hard work. Unloading 40-foot containers by hand was physically demanding, especially in places where the boxes had to be carried up several flights of stairs or down into dusty basements.

It was normally sweaty and dusty work and the lack of shower facilities meant we were frequently a smelly bunch of people. Baby wipes were always in demand but despite the hardship, the atmosphere was generally good, and the work was rewarding.

Many of us would probably struggle now with the physical effort required for this kind of labour. Age, damaged backs, wonky knees and hips have taken their toll and many of us have given up the ghost and we have left the heavy lifting to a younger generation.

One character leading the way in those days, was Simon Walsh. Simon is from Whitegate and is one of the founding members of the Chernobyl Children’s Trust (CCT). This organisation is still carrying on with the effort and Simon is still pulling the strings and making regular visits to that part of the world.

Chernobyl Children’s Trust is a registered charity set up and run by Irish volunteers committed to helping impoverished children living in contaminated and disadvantaged areas. They support the Children’s Oncology Centre in Belarus where children and young adults with various cancers, receive life-saving treatments.

They’re doing great work but unfortunately, for charities like this, time marches on and people forget. For many, the accident at Chernobyl is a distant memory. It’s no longer on the radar of the young people and it is young people who are needed to carry on the work that us geriatrics are no longer capable of.

For me personally, I have great memories of those journeys, the people I met and the friends I made. Sure, we saw a lot of sickness, sorrow and heart break, but we also achieved a lot and improved the quality of life for many kids and families. Everybody who contributed to the fundraising, whether it was donating tinned rice, nappies, toys or money, played a part in improving the lives of many in Belarus and for that we will always be grateful.

It was an immensely rewarding experience for John and myself and if I had my time over, I would do the same again and I highly recommend it to anyone with an interest in giving some time to a cause.

If you fancy a life changing experience, have a look at the Chernobyl Children’s Trust website. You might catch the bug. www.chernobylchildrenstrust.ie

I have no great interest in being on the open sea. As a rule, I prefer to be on dry land which is a bit unusual given my background.

My grandfather spent his life working on boats in the Cork Harbour area. They were the D-O-D boats used by the Department of Defence to carry employees of the naval service and the army from Spike Island and Haulbowline to and from Cobh.

My great grandfather worked on the tenders that transferred passengers and their luggage to and from the liners. In those days, the liners were only permitted to come as far as the entrance to Cork Harbour and they would have to lay up there because the inner harbour was too shallow to accommodate them.

The passengers were ferried in and out of Cobh on these tenders and it’s only relatively recently that liners have been able to berth at the quayside in the town. It’s big business now and Port of Cork anticipates that 94 liners will visit in 2018.

The house I grew up in overlooked the harbour, so I was used to seeing all the activity going on out on the water. On a nice summer evening, there was nothing better than sitting in the front room with the window open and listening to the sound of the boats going up and down the river.

Many of my friends went on to carve out careers for themselves in the maritime industry and some of them are still at it but it wasn’t something that ever interested me. I had no desire to go to sea, and I had never set foot on a liner until recently.

Until a few weeks ago, the largest vessel I had ever experienced was a car ferry. I had travelled from Cork to Swansea a few times and used the Rosslare to Fishguard ferry as well, but they could hardly be described as luxurious. I can remember coming back from Swansea during the 1970’s with a friend of mine and it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

We were young and penniless, so we didn’t have the comfort of a cabin. We had intended grabbing a half decent seat somewhere and doing the best we could with it. The crossing turned out to be a nightmare and the sea was dog rough.

There were lots of older people sitting in the lounge area and many of them were getting sick. My buddy and I spent most of our time handing out sick bags. It was difficult to even walk around but we were young and fit at the time. I have no idea how we managed to avoid the vomiting bug, but I remember we got a free meal from the staff in the canteen for our efforts.

Maybe that experience had something to do with my lack of interest in nautical matters. But a couple of years ago, I received an invitation to visit the ‘Independence of the Seas’ while it was in Cobh. This is one of the bigger liners and a member of the Royal Caribbean family.

This ship dominates the landscape when it comes to town but when you go inside you really get an appreciation of the size of this thing, The elevators go up 14 floors and it’s 1,112 feet long which is almost the length of four soccer fields laid out end to end and it’s as wide as five tennis courts placed side by side.

It needs to be large because it accommodates a small town. When it’s full, it holds 4,375 passengers and a crew of 1,360. It has a dozen bars and lounges and a selection of restaurants, three swimming pools, six whirlpools, theatres, a casino and plenty more to keep the young and old occupied.

That’s another thing. I had always associated cruises with an older, more settled age group, so I was surprised to see so many youngsters on board. When I visited, most of the passengers had already headed off for the day on various tours but a lot of the younger ones were playing in the waterpark and the pools.

Before leaving the ship, I had lunch and the mind boggles when you think of what it takes to feed this amount of people. The self-service area was enormous, and even maintaining a constant supply of clean cutlery was a feat in itself.

I enjoyed my visit and the staff went out of their way to make me feel comfortable. I was glad I took the opportunity to have a look around but I’m not anymore inclined to take a cruise now than I was previously. I can see how it might appeal to some, but it’s not for me.

They have packages to suit all tastes but they’re not cheap. A ball park figure for two people, spending 11 nights on board, is probably going to cost in the region of €4,000. The price will be determined by your choice of ship, the duration of the trip and where in the world you want to go and the package you choose.

A room with a balcony is more expensive than a room without a view of the outside world and your drinks package will determine what beverages are available to you. I’m told by people who have been on cruises that picking the right package is crucial. Otherwise you could end up paying dearly for extras.

They also agree that one of the best aspects of a cruise is waking up in a new port every day with the opportunity to see and explore new places and I understand how that scene appeals to a lot of people. I’m just not one of them.

But check it out yourself, it might be for you.

Alan Bailey is a retired detective sergeant who served for 36 years in An Garda Siochana. He wrote an article recently where he criticised the decision by the Garda Representative Association to organise a “blue flu” back in 1998.

The “blue flu” was a day of protest by the rank and file members of An Garda Siochana where over 5,000 gardaí reported sick and unfit for duty on a particular day. They took this unusual step because they were not legally allowed to strike but they felt that they had been pushed to the limit and needed to make a point.

Mr. Baily said; “Twenty years ago, when I was a garda, I succumbed to peer pressure and joined in the “blue flu” on May 1, 1998. To this day I regret my decision. I even view it as the low point of my career. We, as guardians of the peace, walked away from our posts and left the country unprotected. Shame on us.”

I think he’s stretching it a bit to say that the country was left unprotected. That day of action had been on the cards for some considerable time and there was a contingency plan in place to cover such an event. Members who were essential to State security, and certain other roles, were exempt from taking part in the protest while the army was also placed on standby.

All other ranks apart from regular gardai were also available for duty, including student gardai. While it wasn’t a perfect solution, the country was hardly unprotected.

He also suggested that the action destroyed the faith and confidence the Irish public had in An Garda Siochana, a trust built upon the personal sacrifices made by so many that went before. In the eyes of the public, he says, the Force has never recovered.

I also served for 36 years in that organisation and like Alan, I remember that day well. It was stressful for everyone because it was the first time the gardaí had challenged authority to that extent. It went against the grain to walk out and we all hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. But it did.

Many of us debated the rights and wrongs of that action and there were plenty who disagreed with it. But at the end of the day, we only had a representative association. That didn’t have anything close to the strength of a trade union, but it was all we had. As weak as it was, if we didn’t stand together, then there wouldn’t have been much point in even continuing with that.

Alan also points out that in 2016, both the AGSI and the Garda Representative Association (GRA) almost brought down the government with threats of strike action in support of pay claims. The cabinet capitulated, and he reckons that it was a pyrrhic victory, won by showing just how little some gardai cared for the welfare of those they are paid to protect.

I think that’s a bit harsh. In my opinion, AGSI and the GRA had little choice but to turn up the heat and they did it precisely because they did care, and they knew that the public was not getting a proper service because senior management was struggling to provide effective leadership.

The then garda commissioner, The Minister for Justice and other politicians were calling on the gardai to defer the proposed strike. They were suggesting that the relationship between the gardai and the community would deteriorate if the strike went ahead. They were concerned that the security of the State would be diminished, and the lives of its citizens would be put at risk.

It was wonderful to see this sudden interest in the quality of the service being provided by An Garda Siochana. Senior management and politicians could be about to experience the practicalities of running a police force with limited resources. If nothing else, the threat of industrial action was concentrating the minds and forcing them to consider the long-term future of An Garda Siochana.

The lack of confidence in garda management over a long period led to huge frustration which spilled over into a threat of industrial action. Maybe the “Blue-flu” and the threatened strike weren’t the proper course of action, but the alternative was to do nothing and that wasn’t acceptable either because change was needed.

The report by PricewaterhouseCooper proved that change was needed and found that cronyism and nepotism were flourishing within the Force and that while gardai are committed to their units and their colleagues, they do not hold senior management in high esteem.

That audit should make stark reading for senior management but whether they take any notice of it remains to be seen. Historically, they haven’t been great at looking inwards, preferring instead to circle the wagons, ride out the criticism and maintain the status quo.

The Garda Inspectorate recommended significant restructuring of the ranks. In its Changing Policing in Ireland report, published in 2015, the inspectorate recommended a cut in the number of garda regions from six to three, to help improve efficiency. It also suggested a drop in the number of senior gardai and the introduction of a divisional model of policing.

Management did not adopt the Inspectorate’s recommendations on the grounds that a “big bang” approach would have jeopardised the force’s relationship with the community. They have always been concerned about the force’s relationship with the community, but just not enough to bring about change.

Now change has been forced upon them in the form of a new Garda Commissioner. Drew Harris, formerly of the P.S.N.I, takes up the reins in September and for the first time ever, the position has been filled by a man who is not part of the system.

Interesting times lay ahead.