Many years ago when we went first to Waterford we rented a house from an old schoolfriend of my brothers. There, one night when I was out working in Ballinakill House, Síle answered a knock on the door. “Is the Boss in ?” “No ” says Síle ” What do you want him for” ” I want the boss to castrate a dunky for me” she was told. After looking with horror at the man it clicked with Síle, the actual owner of the house, who had lived there until recently, was a vet and castrating donkeys was part of his trade, it wasn’t a case that her husband was out moonlighting with his filleting knife.

Today in my house here in France I had a telephone call from a Frenchman who told me that he was looking for something but I couldn’t understand fully. I asked him to repeat his request slowly please. The Monsieur then slowly explained to me in French that he wanted to make his confession. I was alarmed for a moment that it might be one of “those” calls until the penny dropped. “Ah Non Monsieur ” I explained, “we are no longer a presbytery like that , but a Chambre d’Hote, the last priest left over 20 years ago” We both laughted , relieved that he hadn’t launched into his sins before finding out his mistake.