The Writers' Circle

A Dubliner In Clifden

I've lived in Clifden since February 2009, but my journey to here really began some fifteen years earlier when I came to Connemara for a family holiday. We were based in Rosmuc, but drove everywhere each day. At this juncture my memories are somewhat vague, but I do remember day trips to places like Letterfrack, Recess, Roundstone and, of course, Clifden itself. We also went to Galway at a time when Padraic O Conaire's statue still sat in Eyre Square, and we sailed out to Inis Mor to spend some magical hours on that lovely little island. Without a doubt it was our best ever holiday, but while my family resumed their normal lives on returning home, for me Connemara had left a lasting and more enduring impression. Perhaps this was because I was already disillusioned with life in Dublin, and I suppose it was then my dream of one day living in this part of the country took root. But I couldn't do so immediately because my children were still quite young, and I had to work to provide for them. In the meantime, however, when the pressures of city life did get too much for me, I occasionally got into my car and drove to Galway for a day or two, booking into B&Bs chosen at random. From there I would drive all around the rugged and beautiful countryside that is Connemara, inevitably ending up in Clifden. It almost felt like I was being drawn to the place! The relaxed way of life never failed to restore my spirits, and I always returned to Dublin fresh and newly energised. I knew then where I wanted to live: Clifden. It was just going to take some time...

Fortuitously, the opportunity came sooner than expected when I was made redundant from my last employment, after several years' service. My children were now growing into young adults and beginning to leave the nest. So, with time on my hands and some capital to my name, I made the momentous decision I'd been thinking about for so long. And yet, on that morning when I was packed and ready to leave Dublin, I was stricken by some last minute doubts. Was I making a mistake? Was I too old to be uprooting myself? Was it only a pipe dream, after all? But, with my sister's help, I banished such thoughts after she said I wouldn't know either way if I didn't at least try, and if i didn't I would probably live to regret it.

In the end, I needn't have worried. I've settled here quite well indeed, and the contrasts with my former life couldn't be greater. For one, it's nice to be able to say "Good morning" and "Hello" when I'm out and about, and receive the same greetings in return. I have gotten to know some people in the area who have time for me, while respecting my privacy. I really appreciate that. Even better, I feel more secure here than I had for so long in my native city.

Clifden is a quiet little town, but also lively at certain periods of the year, with its St Patrick's Day Parade, various musical events which take place both on Market Square and in the local hostelries, the Connemara Pony Show, and the Arts Week at which I was a proud first-time participant last year. Also, as one who used to love hiking in my younger (and fitter) days, I enjoy my walks along Clifden Bay, up Sky Road to the mountains, and around Clifden Glen, where I lived initially for sixteen months before moving to my present abode on Market Street.

In the past three years I've made several trips back to Dublin to catch up with family and friends. I've travelled to New York twice, and also visited Memphis and Nashville. I've been to Paris, where my eldest son is now living. And I've enjoyed each trip. Nevertheless, this place remains in my thoughts when I'm away, and I'm often impatient to get back. Because Clifden, in my eyes and in my heart, is my home.

(c) Eddie Larkin 2012. All Rights Reserved.