Dunmore East is a small fishing village on the south-east coast of Ireland, 16kms from the city of Waterford.It sits on the western side of the Waterford Harbour Estuary, 4.8kms from Hook Head in Wexford.
Dunmore East, Co. Waterford, Ireland
There is a town in north Ontario, With dream comfort memory to spare,
And in my mind I still need a place to go, All my changes were there.
Folk singer Neil Young spoke of his home town in the above lines. “ In my mind I still need a place to go, all my changes were there ”. The web site we have created is focused on a time past in the village when most of us never realized that one day it would change into what it is today.Dunmore has changed in a similar fashion to many other seaside towns in Ireland. It is the price of progress and whether progress can be totally defined in terms of wealth is debatable. Ireland herself has changed, the Raleigh bicycle and the May processions now belong to another era, the time of our parents. Tomas O'Crohan spoke of his book “The Island Man” which chronicled his life as the last remaining Islander on the Blasket Islands, he said of writing the book , “ I wanted to set down in writing the tale of my people, my Island, and our way of life, because the likes of us will never be seen again”. Dunmore too had a time, and a way of life, and a people, the likes of which will never be seen again. Childhood was the beginning of all our journeys, from our Parents who joyously held us aloft on the day we were born, to our school years, into our teens, and finally to adulthood. Those are the formative years, and for most individuals their surroundings are taken for granted. Youth is often wasted on the young, and to some extent we took Dunmore for granted. Like Neil Young we lived through our changes surrounded by its unspoilt beauty. The herring seasons, the fishermen who fished them, the quay workers, fish buyers, barrel boats, German and Dutch luggers, will never be seen again in Dunmore . The farmers who ploughed fields in the cold months of spring sitting on old grey Ferguson tractors with nothing but an overcoat for shelter are now thin on the ground. The poorer of the village, the characters who cut grass, painted fences, and dug graves for a few large bottles are all gone now, their memories left to those who cherish their existences. They once belonged to a working class community who cared for them in its own unique way; they were accepted and looked after, the only available social services being a kind neighbour , shop keeper, hotelier, or publican. The pint of Guinness, once the working man's drink has now become exclusive both in price and consumption. Most of Dunmore 's bars are now restaurants, the days of John Molloy's Ship, and Con Barlow's Anchor are gone. Pat Flynn in Aggies and Mick Power at Bills still carry on a traditional business, but the Pub may some day become just another tourist attraction as Ireland embraces multiculturism , boy riders, and take home liquor barns. The Pub once belonged to the village, fish were caught at the bar, and weather and work were discussed, similar in fashion to a famous conversation which took place in Bills in the early seventies where salmon fishermen were blaming the “Yanks” on a spell of bad weather. The suggestion being that rockets to the moon were impacting on Ireland 's climatic conditions. Such was the innocence of the time, but that innocence is now long gone. The Celtic Tiger has roared and with it has come wealth and prosperity. In Ireland 's case this has been long overdue and the best of luck to all who stand to benefit. In the process however we have “lost the living room”. We have lost our sense of identity and Dunmore has been no different. Let us not try to over-glamorize the past or make it seem that everything back then was excellent. There were hard times in Dunmore, as hard as in any other village of the day, but the people persevered and displayed a sense of neighbourliness that is fast fading with our new-found prosperity. The site we hope will remain for those who want to take a little peek into Dunmore 's past. As children, Westcott Pitt flew over our heads and landed at Pitt's Airfield, Mikey O' Toole delivered milk to the door, and Billix McCarthy delivered newspapers. Twink Ivory cut the grass in St Andrews, and the pub was the sanctuary of the working Man .We were sent to bed on summer's evenings with the light still shining in the sky. In our bedrooms we fell asleep to awaken again and go through another change on our way to growing up. We hope that you enjoy the site, which is commercial free. We would love to hear your comments and suggestions. Please feel free to e-mail us at any time, should you have a suggestion or a story or photo for inclusion. Thanking all concerned. Ringo, Louis and Von. May 2020
Welcome to the Dunmore Website.You will find navigating the site much easier, especially for viewing photographs.Simply click on any photograph to enlarge it.Click on the icon at the bottom right of the photo to enlarge it to it’s original size.