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Dunmore East
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

Stories

I thought we would put up excerpts from emails that we receive, from people whose thoughts

about the memories of Dunmore are similar to our own. For all of us who left the village, it is

always in us. Here are two from Kieran Nash and David Wheaton

Louis/June2006

Kieran (Boots) Nash.

Hi Men, was back in Dunmore to see the folks at Easter with my 2 youngest children and was

told about the website whilst having a pint in Bills.

The tears are rolling down my face with the nostalgia and the laughter - growing up in

Dunmore was an absolute privilege and you've brought it all back.

I have many tales of growing up, working down the quay and fishing with Whiskey and Mick

Whittle on the Agnes Palmer. I also am reminded by Walter (The Swede) occasionally when

home about the time I fell into the dredger when back from sea on leave.

I'd been drinking in the Haven one night and was walking through the village when the

maroons went up. I'd been a Lifeboat crewmember so decided in my wisdom that I should

"answer the call". Paulie Daniels was with me.

Anyway the St Patrick was moored alongside what I took to be a black-decked trawler in front

of the Auction sheds and as I climbed down the ladder I stepped on to the black deck which

was in fact foul slimy mud from the harbour.

Well I went in over my head, came to the surface to hear Sean Kearns say "there's no way

we're taking him!". JJ Grannell and Paulie helped me out and I got changed (cleaned up I

thought) and wandered home to Coxtown through the woods. The father thought a black man

was in the bed when he brought me a cup of tea in the morning!

This was highly unprofessional, coming from a young navy man, and not one I boast about.

However the humorous and non-judgmental way this was treated is a hallmark of the caring

and decent nature of the men and women I grew up with and knew.

We all looked after each other, drunk or sober. This Dunmore way does not exist everywhere.

Another great memory is of being fascinated by the fishing boats and being trained as an 8-

year old to gut skate by Joefy and Ses on the Wisemans. Once I got the hang of it (I'm told

now), they used to leave me on deck and dart up Island Road for a quick pint, while I carried

on happily gutting.

Christmas time in Bills when work stopped on the Dock, The pub full of men, all singing in

tune. Playing soccer in wellies down the dock on winter nights under the floodlights - the ball

would always go in the water. I think that was where I got my nick-name Boots.

You have me awash with memories men, thanks so much. Even though I'm still on the move

its hard to deny the imprint that Dunmore has on the soul - you might keep it supressed

because the longing could kill you at times, but it's always there bubbling away under the

layers of life and experiences that have been thrown your way. Brilliant website. Hope you are

well, all the best. Kieran (Boots) Nash. Scotland

David Wheaton

I have spent more time than I should today scanning your site, remembering the years that I,

and my family, lived in Dunmore East. What a great contact for the future.

Finding the website was the result of one of my sons calling his Godmother Helen (Power)

Nicholson last week and she gave him the address. I have already found a photo of a very

young Helen in the Power's Bar link.

I can still picture "the Butcher's", as it was then. One particular Saturday lunchtime, waiting to

watch a rugby international in the upper back room, it was packed to the doors. French

trawlermen were trying to fill onion sacks with supplies while everyone else tried to get a drink;

the rain was lashing down outside, and blasting in under the double doors, which finished a

good two inches short of the floor. Everyone was "damp", and the side of you nearest to the

Kosangas heater steamed, while the other was numb from the wind howling through the crack

between the doors.

I have a lot to look at yet but have already found the photo of Connie Power - I bought a

salmon off his son Buddy in the harbour one day so that I could impress my parents who were

visiting - I remember some of the dreadful caps Connie wore, including a turquoise corduroy

item.

I was intrigued to see the article on Eddie Don - he was a great drinking pal of mine at the

Strand - his widow Elaine gave me copy of the exact same photo when I visited the village in

1998? - awful what old age will do to you.

I would be happy to share a few stories/memories, and if you decide they are worth inclusion,

so much the better.

All the best

David Wheaton

Cayman Islands

British West Indies

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