The last time I visited the Ploughing Championships was two decades ago and I didn’t mean to break this streak this year. However, a late-night text from Paul Hayes on Tuesday changed my mind. As he was orchestrating an early morning assault on Ratheniska the following day, he happened to have an extra spot in his autonomous Tesla.
Like the first Bloomsday adventure, but with increased pace and less alcohol, I started my Wednesday journey accompanied by a select group of Dublin’s well-known eccentrics. Our team included Trevor White, the charismatic director of the Little Museum of Dublin, who was born on Raglan Road; the famous baker Gerry Godley (also known as the Bread Man Walking, currently on a break); and the cheerful PR consultant, Paul himself, whose habits seem to shift towards Mattie McGrath when he gets behind the wheel heading towards his home county of Tipperary.
Our quick tour of the ploughing site was just enough to marvel once more at the enormity of Anna May McHugh’s endeavour. Usual large crowds got together there, and even the clear blue sky overhead was congested by blimps.
On land, it appeared that every part of Irish life had a promotional booth. I noticed one dedicated to the National Prison Service, and I briefly wondered if they were providing guidance to prospective prisoners. At the time, however, I was trying to locate the National Brown Bread Making championships and didn’t pause to enquire.
Trevor had understood the need of the Little Museum of Dublin to participate in the event, after years of suggestions. Their first-ever booth, our meeting point, showcased the work of a diarist born in Monaghan, much to my pleasure, albeit not this one.
Patrick Kavanagh, armed with a wealth of commendable experience, led the museum’s rural outreach initiative. He used to work the fields in his younger days and later transitioned to a solitary metaphorical life in Dublin. The museum honoured him with an exhibit that highlighted his first stint as a Diary writer for the groundbreaking literary publication, Envoy, in 1949. The magazine was produced by one of the pioneers of Bloomsday, John Ryan.
During my visit to Ratheniska, I encountered a man with the grandiose name of Percy Podger. His moniker could easily be mistaken for a character from a Dickens novel, but he is, in fact, a genuine sheep breeder from Kildare, focusing on the German Schwarzkopf breed, regarded as the sovereign of the sheep kingdom. His prized ram was a colossal creature, weighing 200kg, with a straight and uphold back on which Rhys McClenaghan could have performed his Olympic routine. Percy spoke with pride about the ram’s father being a German champion, which seemed to have imbued the ram with a similar sense of fine breeding, evident in its calm disposition amidst admiring crowds and its contentedness of being a prime stud.
Intriguingly, Percy also brands himself as an advocate for citizen empowerment, as indicated by a signboard above his pen. Credited with a degree from the reputable institution of real-life experiences, “The School of Hard Knocks”, he shared how his numerous encounters such as disputes over grazing rights on the Curragh have imparted practical wisdom that he could impart. The exemplary conversational skills demonstrated by Percy, on a wide range of topics, left me so engrossed that I missed the brown bread baking tournament.
Subsequently, upon Gerry Godley’s advice – who is always keen on scouting rivals – we stopped for a meal at the Mueller & O’Connell bakery in Abbeyleix. This bakery, recognized for its artisan sourdough, gained significant popularity and is reportedly one of the reasons Abbeyleix is gaining the moniker “Clifden of the midlands” (or was it Kinsale?).
During post-ploughing drinks at Slattery’s in Rathmines, Gerry persuaded me to participate in his forthcoming bread-making course. If everything unfolds as anticipated, I might possibly compete in the national brown bread competition this coming September.
At this season, Kavanagh’s presence is impossible to avoid. As Kavanagh Weekend gears up in his native Inniskeen, his spirit also permeates the kick-off of the pioneering Baggotonia Festival (baggotonia-festival.com), which extends from the present day through to Saturday.
Kavanagh is strongly associated with Baggotonia – a Bohemian sector of Dublin, whose exact geographical confines remain indistinct, but whose core hugs the upper and lower parts of Baggot Street. According to Benedict Kiely, Baggot Street served as Kavanagh’s urban alternate to the primary road in Carrickmacoss on a market day.
The festival’s itinerary features an event aptly named “Poetry Plein Air”, taking place by the poet’s sculpture on the Grand Canal this Saturday afternoon. Other activities include a filming of Alan Gilsenan’s Ghosts of Baggotonia, and intriguingly, Conor Lenihan’s discourse this Friday on the life of Charlie Haughey, with the local but nostalgic Coq Hardi restaurant bound to be a focal point in his talk.
This Saturday, upon its homecoming from a community endeavour in remote Laois, the Little Museum of Dublin will be carrying out a “Walk of Shame”. Designed to spotlight the region’s scandalous history, it is recommended solely for individuals aged 18 and above.