You’d be a cousin of mine

THERE is a myth about a wise man who ran a clinic at the peak of a small hill in the East. A young man who had travelled from America, went there to seek him out, and was directed towards a set of ancient double doors, upon which he did hammer, without reply.

Then he heard a voice coming from his right, ‘Go round dis way, I’m in de back’.

Passing through an open iron gate leading into a concrete yard, his senses were put off kilter by the pungent smell of fresh pig shit. He was in such disarray, he hardly noticed the grey haired man wearing a peak cap and smiling in the single door frame.

‘What way are ye?,’ said the man, reaching out a lean hand.

Is this the wise man who has given the cure to Mick Jagger and Gerry Garcia?, thought the young man.

‘I know be de look o ye, dat I know ye’, said the wise man. ‘Come in shur, ye’ll surely have a drop.’

He invites him to sit at a table covered with a checkered lanolin tablecloth, and pours a large bottle down the side of a stout glass.

‘I heard that you administer cures here in the clinic?’

‘Gob I do, I have cured many’s the man here, and woman.’

‘For what ailment?’

‘Damn near anyting under the sun. They come in lookin for it on a Sunday in particular, but I have administered it on other days too begob, and other places. When I was in Kali-forn-yae I admistered it to The Rolling Stones, and yer man Eric Clampton. Shure be jaypers, even the Guns and Roses were present, and Gerry Garcia.’

‘How did they know about the cure?’

‘Chesley Milliken told dem about de clinic, and dey asked me to administer the cure at wan of deir hoolies, bejasus dem are quare fellas. Be de end of de night dey were all lying on de floor. I had to give dem de cure agin the next mornin.’

‘Was that the last time you saw them?’

‘No shur didn’t Charlie Watts invite me and Mick Berry to give em de cure whin dey were above at Slane Castle as well, dem and Gerry Hall.’

The wise man, who insisted on being called Sammy, took the young man on a tour of his clinic.

In almost every way, it appeared to be just like a bar. But there was no television, no cash register, no loud music, no dishwasher and very little lighting, Sammy said there were four bulbs, and that was enough to see what state people were in when they were after the cure.

‘What about yerself, I know be de look of ye, dat I know someone belongin to ye, who’s yer Granda?’

‘I never met him, but he was Jem Roche, a well known boxer.’

‘Oh be gob a man shir I knew well, you’d be a cousin of mine den.’

‘Would I?’

‘Your mam was Molly Roche, I danced to her band in Murrintown.’

‘Yes, she did have a band, I can’t believe you were at her dances.’

‘Ah shur yer Granda was here for de cure too.’

As the young man was leaving, Sammy held his hand with both of his.

‘Ivery wan is important. A Tinker woman once told me dat I’d never be any good, cos I come on me own, an only child. So I made sure to make ivery wan my family since. Now I’m never on my own.’

‘I’ll bid ye farewell now, we’ll surely meet agin in de clinic up beyond.’

‘Thanks Sammy.’

“Your mam was Molly Roche, I danced to her band in Murrintown