I want you to go back, back in time.....

On the way to Skellig Michael - August 1983.

Our summer of love

Never mind Haight Axbury, dope and flowers in the hair - all that was pure bollox when compared to our summer of love in 1983. Endless sunshine, new-found wealth, the end of exams, the beauty of Kerry, scores of pints, a little bit of draw, a Championship winning Dublin team and of course Gerry vomiting over the side of the boat and scaring all the fuckin fish away.

Why is it that there's always some gobshite who wants to ruin everyone's fun?

There we were, with the flyfisherman of the year (himself boring the arse off all of us with stories about plankton, before of course he went on to try to light the fire on the beach without matches - "I learnt this in the seascouts - useful if you're stranded in Antartica" - fuck all good if you're stuck in a field with him in Mallow though), and Gerry decides to barf in the water all the way out to Skellig Michael. Fungi the Dolphin is still feeding on it 27 years later.

Anyway, needless to say it was meat again for dinner that evening.

Luggala - Smokers warm up & the new generation

Excellent performance from the smokers team today, drawing 1 - 1 with the non-smokers on Portsalon beach. An excellent game was spoiled only by McCooey's cynical tactics of trying to nail the entire opposition with his hob-nailed FCA boots, which as Brian pointed out the free distributuion of which was the only reason Art decided to protect our shores by joining An Forsa Cosanta Aitiul.

Half-time entertainment was in the form of a boxing match between Byrne and Hartnett, stopped in the third round by a vicious below the belt strike to Bomber Byrne's bollox.