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Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Remembering my aunt - the warm and bubbly Gertie Logue



‘Everyone’s friend.’
That is the only way to sum up the formidable personality that was Gertie Logue, who passed away on Sunday.

The unforgettable Gertie

Gertie, 63, was a wife, a sister, an aunt and a cousin, but to everyone she was a friend.
As she slipped away peacefully at Foyle Hospice, she was surrounded by all the people who loved her.
To some she was ‘Jerdie’, to others ‘Gurtie’, and the hundreds of people who attended her wake at her brother Christy’s home in Foyle Springs had dozens of stories to share about this warm and bubbly lady.
The youngest child of William and Gertrude Doherty, Gertie grew up in the Foyle Road, a place she often spoke about with happy memories.
Much of her working life was spent in Woolworths in Ferryquay Street, where she earned the accolade of being the longest serving employee, clocking up an impressive 38 years before her retirement.
When Gertie was in a room you knew it, she charmed everyone with her wit, her empathy and her endearing honesty.
When you asked Gertie a question, she told you the truth. It is this open and genuine personality that we will miss the most.
She had the biggest heart, always generous with her possessions and even more generous with her time.
Her two big loves were her husband Seamus, and shopping.
Seamus was her rock and best friend. Last year they celebrated their 30th wedding anniversary. As a couple they loved to travel to England to visit Gertie’s sister Olive, and around Ireland, thanks to Gertie’s canny knack of saving her Supervalu tokens.
Several years ago Seamus and Gertie added a new addition to their family with their dog Alfie, a precious companion to both of them.
Saturdays in the town will never be the same again without seeing Gertie on her trademark scooter, shopping for the latest fashion, and drinking coffee in Costa or Marks and Spencer with her friends.
The last few years have not been easy for Gertie as she endured recurring bouts of ill health.She battled her illness courageously, always with a deep faith in God. She never spoke about her own illness or suffering, her first question to anyone coming through the door to visit her at Foyle Hospice was “How are you doing?”
In the funeral Mass Gertie left her own poignant message to all those who knew her: “Let all your thoughts of me be joyful, of things we shared and happy times we’ve known. I’ll meet you just beyond the Rainbow’s end.”
Gertie - wife, sister, aunt, cousin, friend and guardian of the custard creams, we don’t know what we are going to do without you.
My sister Rosaleen and Gertie.
Gertie Logue, nee Doherty, is survived by her husband Seamus, siblings Tom, Myra, Olive, Charlie, William, Ivor and Christy. She is predeceased by her brother Matt.

Seamus and Gertie

Thursday, May 25, 2017

Could Padre Pio's mitt heal my leg?

Marathon update
Miles completed - none
Miles missed - 29
Litres of water drunk - two litres a day
Gin consumed - Lost count
Toe nails lost - Toe nails intact due to lack of running
Pairs of running shoes bought - One
Sports massages completed - two
Half marathons missed - one
Friends fed of hearing about it - one million




It's ten days before the marathon and everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong.
I haven't pulled out yet, but as I limp around the house lying to everyone that I'm ok, I have to admit that I'm worried.


I haven't been able to run for two weeks.
A leg injury (either the IT band or hamstring - as yet undiagnosed) meant I had to pull out of the Strabane half marathon last Sunday. (minus 13.1 miles)  It almost killed me watching everyone else going for glory but I had to be sensible.
And anyway someone had to be there to hold the Star hoodies and Prosecco.
Two sports therapists have told me my injury is not serious, all I need to do is stretch (check), drink water (check), rest (check) and foam roll (uncheck, that will have to be dug out from the dust pile under my bed.).
I thought I was back on my feet last week when my son came home from school with a tummy bug.
No doubt the huge amount of kisses I demand from him on a daily basis resulted in easy transmission of infection and by last Thursday I was confined to bed. And I binged watched box sets of Netflix until I finally declared myself to rise from the dead on Sunday morning.
That meant missing my 16 mile run. (Now I'm minus 29 miles)
I've since recovered but the old leg injury continues to trouble me.
Could it be psychological? I don't know.
I've been for two sports massages, crunched ibuprofen, iced, and I've even tried out the dreaded foam roller.
And now I'm seriously contemplating asking for Padre Pio's mitt.
I know I shouldn't but I'm facing my demons in my new trainers tonight and going running.
I need to get back out there. I need to make a decision about this marathon.

Sunday, April 23, 2017

So we ran 18 miles

Marathon update
Miles completed - 18
Litres of water drunk - probably zero
Gin consumed - just the two
Toe nails lost - 2 ( to be fair they are growing back)


On Saturday morning I ran 18 miles.
I just want to make sure you all ready that correctly - yes 18 miles.
That is a very long way for those of you who have never done it.
It was tiring, painful, draining - but also absolutely fantastic
This week has been one of severe disappointments. My dear friend and running buddy has been battling sickness and may have to pull out so this was the first 18 mile run I've done without her.
Thankfully I had a few stars to help me on my way.
The speedy stars took an early lead in the training route on Saturday and that left Mommy Star, Mummy Star, New Star, Perfect Make up Star and me navigating the long road to Newbuildings. At Foyle Road we were joined by Daddy Star (who waited for Mummy Star), Twin Star and Late Star (no explanation needed). Then it was out the long road to Balloughry and back in the line.
I did have a few other people for company - thank you Bruce Springsteen, Erasure, Fleur East and Take That for getting me through a few tight spots. But Abba and Olivia Newton John will soon be making a fast exit from my IPOD.
So so far so good, 20 miles planned for next week. After that I've only two miles to add before I'm declared marathon ready.
Running in a group was so much easier.
Boss Star (also Coach) has promised us sausages and chips and a pink and white if we make it to 22 miles.
That's an offer I can't refuse.

Friday, April 21, 2017

Hello Anton - it's your woman from Derry calling.


Sometimes, if you're very lucky you get to interview one of the your heroes. I was lucky enough to interview Anton DuBeke a few years back.A few weeks after this I arranged to meet Anton backstage in Dublin when he gave me a box of chocolates.The pic is a bit blurry - but I was really nervous......................................




Hello, is that Anton?” I say in my poshest Northern Ireland accent.“Hello, Erin, how are you?” comes the reply from the other end of the phone.“I am over the moon to be on the phone to you,” I say. And it’s true because I’m not just a journalist, I’m a massive fan.I’m talking to Anton Du Beke from Strictly Come Dancing and I’ve just taken great joy in adding his number to the list of contacts in my mobile phone.I resist telling Anton his number has been burning a hole in my pocket all weekend, and it’s taken strong willpower for me to resist sending him even one sneaky text.But it’s time to get down to some serious interviewing. “I’m going to spend the next ten minutes flirting with you,” I tell him.“I’ll probably never get to spend another ten minutes with you so I’m making the most of it.” “Fill your boots, Erin,” he says. “Fill your boots.” Already he’s put me at ease.But then Anton really is one of life’s true gentlemen. With impeccable manners you just know he’s one of those men who’ll insist on opening the car door for his lady friends or helping you on with your coat.Anton’s dance partner Erin Boag is pregnant with her first child so this year Anton’s doing the tour solo, alongside special guest star Summer Strallen.“Is there a vacancy for a new Erin?” is my next question for Anton.I mean, I can’t sing, I definitely can’t dance – but I do have the right name.“If the frocks fit, you’re in,” he says.I put down the Galaxy bar and resolve to do better at Weightwatchers this week. There’s always next year! “It’s true what they say, there’s no crowd like an Irish crowd,” says Anton. “You are just a great bunch, you’re always so generous and you like having a good time. It’s super, you’re a lovely bunch, I can’t deny it.”Anton’s keen to talk about his co- star Summer Strallen. “When Erin told me she was going to have a baby and that she wouldn’t be able to do the tour this year I had my wishlist of what I wanted to do for my style of show, and have a cross over into Broadway.“And Summer was at the top of my list to be my leading girl.“She’s just finished Top Hat and previously starred in Love Never Dies (the long- awaited sequel to Phantom of the Opera).“It’s a bit different doing the show without Erin. “I’m looking forward to hearing questions from the audience when we’re over in Belfast.“But the names always catch us out, especially when we have to sign the programmes.”It’s early in the year but Anton says he hopes to return to Strictly Come Dancing, especially after making it all the way to November with partner Fiona Fullerton in the last series.“Fiona knew all the steps and in the right order,” he says, “I couldn’t ask for more. She’s a lovely girl. It was a good year. We had a lot of fun.”But he shies away when asked to name who his ideal celebrity partner would be.“I never really mind,” he says. “For example, I would never have chosen Anne Widdecombe as a partner on Strictly but if I hadn’t have danced with her I would have missed out on all that fun we had together. I like people to have a nice time, whether they are coming to see a show I am in or whether I’m dancing with them on Strictly Come Dancing.”Before I know it, my allotted ten minutes with Anton are up and it’s time to say goodbye.“You’re a lovely girl, Erin, I’m very fond of you,” he says as we sign off. “You’ve made a wee Northern Ireland girl very happy,” I tell him, and the click signals the end of our call.But I still have his mobile number, I might text him later in the week...


Thursday, April 20, 2017

How not to run a marathon

For those who don't know,  I'm running the Derry Marathon again. It's on June 4.
I haven't been bragging about it as much as I did last year.
My confidence took a huge knock in 2016. I had done everything right, trained hard, eaten properly and drunk so much water that work considered moving my desk to the ladies bathroom.
But in 26 degree heat on marathon day last year, severe dehydration set in and it all went a bit pear shaped.
I did make it to the end........... thanks to help from a huge squad of supporters.
But it wasn't my finest moment.

So after doing it all right last year to disastrous effects, I've decided to do it all wrong this year with the hope it will give me a better outcome.
Instead of swearing myself off the booze like I did last year - I've been seeking comfort in Guinness.
I suppose my realisation about how I'd lost my way came about last week.
As I sat in the beer garden of Campbell's Bar at the foot of the iconic Croagh Patrick mountain nursing some very sore calves, I realised that climbing a 2,000 foot mountain six weeks before my 26.2 mile climb was probably a bad idea.
This pint was probably a bad idea too. It's the first and probably last pint of Guinness I'll ever have. I'm not really sure what my Dad sees in the black stuff.
But I'm back on the wagon today.
Six weeks until the big day. I'm already way behind in my training. I've lost two toenails (sorry if you choked on your cornflakes, but try being me) and I think I'm on the verge of buying my third set of trainers this year.
But I'm doing it, I'm up to 16 miles and this week I'm going for 18.
I've sworn not to touch a chip, a pint or a packet of crisps until June 4, when I cross that finish line.
My IPOD has been loaded with a new selection of running songs that range from Erasure's 'I Love to Hate You' to Olivia Newton John's 'Physical' (although my husband said he only put that on for a joke).
So if you can put up with me for a few weeks I'll keep you updated on how I'm doing.
Because let's face it - there aren't many overweight, gin loving 39 year-olds like myself doing the marathon.
It won't be pretty, it most probably will be whiney but I'll definitely be giving it my best shot.
Starting tonight - a run to Newbuildings and back
I'll keep you posted.

Monday, March 6, 2017

A pilgrim's progress - my trek to Croagh Patrick


Ascending to more than 2,000 feet I know I’ve a mountain to climb, a big one.

 

112 pilgrims from Derry have come to Westport on a sunny Friday morning to scale the famous mountain which has been conquered by millions over the years.

The tradition of pilgrimage to this holy mountain stretches back over 5,000 years from the Stone Age. It was on the summit of the mountain that Saint Patrick fasted for forty days in 441 AD.

This mountain is on a list of things I have pledged to do before I turn the dreaded 40, and when Derry’s Emmet Thompson arranged the trip, I knew I had to give it a go.

There’s much interest when I tell friends and family that I’ve decided to climb Croagh Patrick. But attention turns to whether I’ve decided to make the trek barefoot.“No, I tell them, I’m not mad.” . “But you’ve done Lough Derg, you’re into all that barefoot pilgrimage stuff.”

Father Christopher says Mass on the
 

And it’s true, I have “done” Lough Derg, but climbing a mountain barefoot, well that’s a horse of a different colour.

The sun obscures the view at the base of the mountain and my feet feel safe and secure in my borrowed hiking boots.

But the expedition is almost over before it begins when I can’t get my newly purchased trekking sticks extended. I certainly look the part, but when it comes to scaling a mountain I’m definitely more Bridget Jones than Hannah Shields.

Luckily a teacher from St Mary’s College spots my ‘damsel in distress’ look and manages to fix them for me.

Two twists of the sticks and Sean McBride has them adjusted to my height. But he warns me I’m not to touch them again until I get back to the bus.

Finally I’m on my way, and I’m joined on the first part of my climb by young Hannah Best from Dublin, who’s come to live in Derry with the Derry Youth Community. Hannah and I met for the first time this morning and sat together for the whole four hour journey on the bus, but we walk together on this first section mostly in silence, past the iconic statue of St Patrick.

The average person takes two hours to summit the mountain but I’m determined I can do better than that.
And the first 30 minutes of the journey pass without incident.

But when I finally turn around to take in the view I take a gasp at what’s in front of me. It simply takes your breath away.

I look to the right and see the famous conical shape of Croagh Patrick and for a moment I panic and think I’m on the wrong mountain, because the top seems very far away. I meet Jade and Bethany, sixth year pupils from St Cecilia’s College who offer to take my picture with the view behind me.

The girls ask me if I’m on my own, and I tell them I am.“

Aren’t you lonely going up alone?” they ask me.  And I say no, the challenge for me today is to conquer this mountain alone. It’s a challenge to do this by myself, because I never do anything by myself.I walk with the girls for a while, but they have youth on their side, and after a while I’m lagging behind them.

On the way I’m vlogging too. My daughter has given me a selfie stick so I feel duty bound to record the experience.

My Garmin watch that I usually wear for running bleeps indicating I’ve covered my first mile in 47 minutes (that’s the slowest mile I’ve ever done.)

I pass a Galway man and his young son as they descend the mountain.

He asks me if I’m from Derry. I can’t think how he knows this, must be my posh Northern Ireland brogue. He tells me his wife is from outside Limavady.

I ask him what it’s like at the top. It’s a bit misty today, he says, and I feel a bit disappointed. He encourages me to keep going.

The last part of my trek up the mountain takes more strength than I thought I’d need. It’s a battle of wills. As we climb up the final section, some of the young people start to wither, while the older of us seem to find that inner strength willing us to the top. It’s clear this is as much as mental challenge as a physical one. I pass a stone on the ground where someone has written ‘Stay Determined, Stay Hydrated - with a smiley face’ it makes me smile.

The final stretch is never ending. Every corner we turn betrays us, making us think we are at the top, but teasing us with another 100 yards.I pass newly ordained priest Father Christopher McDermott and ask him if he’ll hear my confession if I make it to the top, he laughs and says he’ll also administer last rites.

A man tells me I’m ‘almost’ at the top and I roll my eyes, I’ve heard it all above from other climbers, but when I look up I can just see the white stone of the church, and I know I’ve made it.

I take a moment to take in the view, and I don’t have the words to describe it.

There’s no mist at all and the view from the top is breathtaking. Someone points out Clew Bay and it is beautiful.

Outside the church I meet a man who has made the climb barefoot and I watch and wince as he ices his bleeding toes, glad that I was sensible and kept my boots on.

Due to unforeseen circumstances we have to abandon our plans to have Mass in the chapel and it’s time to prepare for the descent.

The climb back down proves even trickier than the climb up.

This time I’ve put my mobile phone away and I’m not filming. I want to take everything in.I take my steps slowly as I climb down, treading carefully as the stones slip underfoot.

At the half way section I meet Father Christopher again who is preparing to say Mass outside. This putdoor Mass is the most unexpected and beautiful part of the day.

During prayers Father Christopher remembers my sister’s father in law Diarmuid Healy, who was laid to rest in Derry that morning. At the end Father Christopher tells us he hopes we enjoyed this authentic Mass rock experience. And we all did. There’s a camaraderie among us all as we gather together in prayer.

There’s drama on the way down as one of the teenagers slips and hurts her leg. They’ve no choice but to send the helicopter in to assist her and get her medical attention.

On the last section Hannah and I cross paths again. This time we’re chatting and she stops at a running stream to collect some St Patrick’s water for her mum. We’re not sure if the water is holy or not, but a man we meet tells us we should collect a bottle of the water and drink it.

We all make it off the mountain in one piece as we gather at the bus and share stories of our climb. A few of us congratulate ourselves in making it up the mountain in less than two hours. I made it in one hour 52 minutes.

We share our war wounds and Emmet asks me if I’ll come again next year. I tell him I’ll think about it. In the meantime my trekking poles will stay extended (Now I can’t get them down, help Mr McBride).
Erin Hutcheon outside Croagh Patrick's famous white church

 

Thursday, January 5, 2017

Three days at Lough Derg

I actually did the Lough Derg pilgrimage for the first time in August 2015- and this account dates back to then. I've since been back in 2016 and hope to return in 2017. Three times on the island and you get a ticket to heaven. So I've been told. But there's no harm in having an insurance policy.
Here it is for anyone interested.


Erin Hutcheon with Bishop Donal McKeown.



The priest tells us we’re the luckiest group they’ve had this season because it’s the first night it hasn’t rained.

But I don’t feel particularly lucky sitting in the chilly St Patrick’s Basilica, barefoot, waiting to begin my all night vigil.

This is St Patrick’s Purgatory, Lough Derg, an island thousands have flocked to over the centuries. And now it’s my turn. This is no weekend spa retreat. At Lough Derg, there’s no priority boarding and no room upgrades. “Once the shoes come off we’re all equal,” says Bishop of Derry, Donal McKeown.

Last weekend Bishop McKeown led 43 pilgrims from the Derry diocese on a pilgrimage to Lough Derg, a place where the human body is pushed to the limit not only because of a lack of food and sleep, but the huge physical exertion it takes to conquer the penitential beds by walking around them barefoot.

I was given plenty of advice before setting foot on Lough Derg. Midge repellant was top of the list, warm clothes, at least three layers, and rain proof gear. No one mentioned knee pads which really would have come in handy given the sorry state of my knees after three days on the island.

As I checked my bag before I left I bemoaned the fact I was leaving behind my hair straighteners, my make up, and my beloved mobile phone, how was a girl expected to survive? The island has a strict ban on mobile phones and all electronic devices.

Pilgrims must remain barefoot and the only meal allowed is dry toast, wheaten bread, and black tea or coffee, served once a day.

We arrived on Friday afternoon just after 3 p.m. and were shown to our rooms, a small cubicle with bunk beds.

It’s at this point you say goodbye to your shoes, and you don’t see them again until the morning you leave, because pilgrims negotiate the island barefoot. During our three days we have to complete nine stations, three of which had to be done before 9 p.m. on the first day.

The station begins by the pilgrim reciting seven decades of the rosary while walking around the basilica barefoot. You then make your visit to the six penitential beds. In busy times pilgrims have to queue at the penitential beds.

The beds are rings of boulders and rough stones embedded up-end in the soil, some on a steep incline, in the centre of each stands a crucifix.

Four sets of prayers are said at each bed, dedicated to six different saints, with the pilgrim kneeling and walking around at different points, finishing with more prayers as you kneel in the centre.

The beds are a little tricky to begin with, and I was confused about what I was doing. But there’s always a priest around or member of staff happy to answer your questions.

It was Father Cathal Deery who gently pointed out that I had started at the wrong end of the penitential beds, so I started again.I struggled to get my three stations completed before the 9pm. deadline, even missing out on a promised one hour of rest before the all nighter began.

Seasoned Lough Derg pilgrims told me that to complete the beds in time, I should have got there earlier.

One man, who had walked all the way from Derry told us he arrived at lunchtime, completed the three stations, had his Lough Derg meal and gone for a kip.

While most pilgrims struggle with the lack of sleep on their three day pilgrimage, it was the penitential beds that gave me the greatest difficulty.

The beds, particularly the first two were very difficult to negotiate, while praying. On the beds, I saw immense acts of kindness, one young man held his hand out to help me while I was negotiating a tricky rock. Kneeling on the beds is a painful task, but one we all tried to “offer up.”

It takes around an hour to negotiate a full station and nine must be done in the three days.

But the bulk of the work is undertaken on the first day when a total of seven stations are completed.

During the pilgrimage we had two Lough Derg meals, which comprised as much dry toast, wheaten bread, and black tea or coffee as you can stomach.

The beautiful St Patrick's Basilica.
 One of our group experimented making his own jam from tea leaves and sugar. Only go for one meal though, one pilgrim tried to sneak back for a second meal only to be recognised by the kitchen staff who sent him on his way.

The night vigil is a part of the pilgrimage that can bring the human body to breaking point.

It begins with some quiet reflections and the rosary, before the group, 241 of us on the night of my vigil, made our fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh station.

This time instead of outside on the penitential beads, the stations are done inside the magnificent basilica. Again this takes about an hour. It’s a little strange at the beginning to see 241 people walking around the church, kneeling at various intervals, then standing and sitting.

After each station, there’s a short break before the next one starts.

It’s a long night, made worse by the piercing cold. Outside, where you find yourself when your eyelids begin to get heavy, the ground is so cold it feels like tiny knives stabbing you through your heels and soles.

I thought of my contraband hot water bottle sitting in the dormitory and wondered if I could sneak up and get it. But no, that would be breaking the rules.

But you can take refuge in the Flood Room, a special part of the island where pilgrims can shelter from the elements, and drink hot water or Lough Derg Soup, hot water with pepper, a delicacy that’s best avoided.

It was during the breaks that I got to meet a few of the other pilgrims. One woman told me this was her 56th time at Lough Derg. Another man said this was his sixth visit, his coldest retreat, adding “I’ll never be back.”

But most of the pilgrims give you that line, and it’s almost become a standing joke. Lough Derg tends to call people back again and again. It’s a long six hours until 6 a.m. and the end of the evening part of the vigil. The fourth station is a bit of a blur and lack of sleep had me forgetting things, at one point even the words of the Hail Mary. But the more experienced Lough Dergers explained that disorientation is to be expected under the circumstances. The morning after, we’re reminded that some difficult hours still remain ahead as we’re expected to stay awake until 10pm. which will be a full 24 hours since the vigil began. We’re asked to refrain from lying down on our bunks when we go for a wash and a change, because of the temptation to snatch a quick sleep.

The morning of the second day pilgrims have the opportunity to take part in the Sacrament of Reconciliation - that’s confession to you and me. It’s a difficult sacrament for some, and the priests encouraged everyone to come forward and take part, even if many years have passed since they’ve last been to confession.I don’t do confession, haven’t done so for a long time, but I decided that the Lough Derg experience wouldn’t be complete without it.

Father Cathal Deery, is one of the many priests at the island who put so much time and energy into making the three days an opportunity to take time out, look at the past, deal with the present and look to the future.

The vigil candle. It feels like this candle will never extinguish.
He barely flinched when my first ‘confession’ of the confession was that I hadn’t taken part in the sacrament for 22 years.

He’s a gifted and compassionate priest. My confession was a very spiritual, maybe a life changing experience and the one part of my pilgrimage that will stay with me forever. Day two can be a difficult day, pilgrims only have one station to complete and tiredness is kicking in.

Despite the Lough Derg rule of ‘don’t lie down and don’t stretch out’ some of the pilgrims did succumb to power naps. The day ends with evening Mass and night prayer before the vigil candle is finally extinguished signaling our vigil is over.

The it’s off to the dormitories for the first bit of sleep in 36 hours.

In the women’s dorm I threw on a pair of woolen socks and sank into bed. But no sooner were my eyes closed than the bell was ringing us for 6.30am Mass.

I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for my fellow pilgrims who were only coming off the night vigil, while my group had just had eight hours sleep.

One more station round the basilica and the boats had arrived to take us off the island.

As I waited to board, the pain in my swollen feet and the stiffness in my joints reminded me of everything I’d accomplished in three days. At Lough Derg it’s not about focusing on the things you can’t have while you are there, it’s about what you can have. Time to switch off, distance yourself from the stresses and pains that take up so much of your time in real life. Time for a little solitude, guidance and grace.

That and the 3,745 Hail Marys I recited (yes I counted them).

The island gave me a truly spiritual experience. I was especially grateful to be rid of my mobile phone for three days.

When I eventually switched it back on and saw how little had happened while I was away it made me wonder why I’m normally so surgically attached to it.

Lough Derg’s Prior Father Owen McEneaney shook the hand of every single pilgrim as they got on the boat and we made our way back to the mainland singing Hail Glorious St Patrick.

Legend says that if you don’t look back over your shoulder at the island you’ll never return.I had a half look over my shoulder. Another legend says that if you visit Lough Derg three times you’re guaranteed a place in heaven. I’m a third of the way there now, surely?

My only disappointment is that the gift shop didn’t stock T-shirts stating #ididloughderg - I’d have bought one of them.

Will I go back? Bishop McKeown says God willing, he’ll be taking members of the diocese again next year.

Ask me then.

To find out more about Lough Derg ring 02868632391 or email info@loughderg.org