Only in Ireland – a train disaster for a herd of unfortunate cattle

YOU couldn’t make it up! Honest to God it was like a scene from D’Unbelieveables......no Father Ted.

There we were sitting on the train, bound for the Big Smoke to celebrate The Youngest’s 13th birthday. when all of a sudden there was what could only be described as a bit of a bang.

I didn’t take much notice initially. I was more concerned with the fact that a stag party had boarded the train and gotten onto our carriage. They had cracked open the cans before we left the station and loathe as I am normally to be a killjoy, 11 am was just too early for a singsong.

Back to the bang. Two small kids sitting opposite me were glued to the window.

‘What’s wrong with that cow? Why is it lying down?’ Asked the little girl. Her granny looked over at me and cringed.

‘What’s wrong? I asked. She put her hands over eyes and pointed at the window. I looked out. A poor cow was lying down beside the train, it’s ears twitching as it drew its last breath.

Long story short, the train had hit a herd of cattle who were on the tracks. A number were trapped under the train while 2 two lay dead on the grass. The Youngest roared her eyes out saying she was never eating steak again! Look she’s 13 - there is no logic when you’re 13.

Meanwhile the stag party were a bit taken aback and after opening a few more cans for the shock, called for a minute’s silence for the cows. The ticket man told us we’d be there for at least an hour so the lads tore into their supplies. To be fair they did offer the Kopperberg around, but like I said 11 am is too early even for me.

An hour turned into 2. The lads cleaned out the buffet car, sang ever cow related song they could think of and started insulting each other. A group of women the other end, drank their weight in prosecco and decided it was ok to have a fag, sure they were after having a terrible shock!

Two hours turned into three, The Youngest wailed that her birthday was ruined and I would have gladly swapped her for a can of Kopperberg if there’d been any left.

Finally they brought us back to the station of origin with promises of buses to transport us. The Stag party had rang ahead and were met at the station by pals carrying slabs of beer. They’d decided Dublin was too far away after all and they were staying put. ‘Ah lads, some laugh,’ says the groom. ‘Best stag party ever!’

Only in Ireland!