By Ger Cody
There are, it would appear, three rules to good conversation:
- Honesty – stick to the truth
- Relevance – say things that are relevant to the conversation
- Manner – present things in an orderly way
Now, I’m sure those three points are well founded and in many cases would fit into society very nicely, thank you very much. But are they practical?
If you’ll forgive me for saying so, it has the potential of being very boring. It certainly isn’t the Irish way. Not at all. When we become immersed in a conversation, be it in a pub or café or at a street corner, trickery and tomfoolery asides are the call of the day. All part and parcel of the craic. And what about having respect for those with whom you are chatting? Not on your Nelly! It’s a case of ‘may the best man win’. And at all costs. You can bet your bottom dollar that each person in the chat is there to win the argument, eviscerate the opponent and make every attempt to have the last word. No place here for gentleness or niceties.
It is, I would suggest, akin to the very serious game of chess. Take Russia, home to somewhere in the region of 15 world champions of the board game. Now you don’t get to that standard by being nice, or by having due consideration for your playing partner. Indeed no. It’s every man for himself. The popularity and seriousness of chess in Russia was highlighted by English traveller William Cox: “The game of chess was so popular in Russia, that during my stay in Moscow, I could hardly find a place where people were not playing chess.It was win at all costs.”
You could argue that conversation is Ireland’s chess. The art of conversation in Ireland began when the first people arrived in this country about 9,000 years ago in what we know as the stone age. Indeed, a sample of the humour from that period was found by archaeologists carved into an oak tree in Kildare which read “Take a night off-go ‘clubbing’.” (Ed note: it is advised to digest that last sentence with multiple grains of Sodium Chloride)
The Irish are great talkers who revel in conversation. We love to talk, chat and gossip until the cows return to their abode. Or as they say in Kilmacow: “That lad would talk the hind leg off a bullock.”
FEAR
However, when it comes to conversation, one fears for its future. Its demise may be close at hand. And while casting no aspersions on our younger generation, the sight of so many traversing the keyboards of a mobile phone as they parade through our city centre is worrying, to say the least. They seem content to let their fingers do the talking. And yes, I know that denigrating our youth may appear harsh, yet there is a certain amount of truth to it.
Growing up in Ireland of the 50s and 60s, some of us had the pleasure of learning from, and listening to the best. Jimmy O’Dea and David Kelly; Maureen Potter; Cha and Mia, Dave Allen, Nial Toibin, Myles na gCopaleen (Keats and Chapman), Jack Cruise and of course Hal Roach.
And the beauty of it all was that every village from Ballyhale to Clogh had serious practitioners of the art of intense conversation. They gathered in many and varied venues – outside the chapel on Sunday morning, at a junior hurling match or in the local ale house.
HOPE
And so it was that my heart was lifted recently while walking down Kilkenny’s High street I came across four gentlemen supping coffee outside The Gourmet Store. A beautiful store that serves tourists and locals alike and where the staff (like their coffee) will keep you ‘grounded’. We must pay thanks to those workers in 1860 who widened the road just about where the Gourmet store stands. We all know the plaque at the end of James’s Street, which says ‘High Street, built in 1200 — widened in 1860’. The positioning of two benches outside the shop is a major plus, and one wonders if the road had not been widened, would the benches have fitted? It allows those who have purchased their chosen drink or those who are awaiting their order, to rest a while, enjoy the ambience, and yes, you’ve guessed it -chat with those passing by.
On the day I passed, these four gentlemen were seated, holding court and vociferously debating world affairs. These ‘boyos’ seemed to have an answer for everything and a suitable pun for every topic. Truthfully, the ‘craic’ was mighty and laughter resonated. I would suggest that these men are wise rather than clever. To elucidate this point let us defer to Albert Einstein: “A clever person solves a problem, but a wise person avoids it.”
I couldn’t help but notice that one of the gentlemen – Bill – who hails from the ‘real’ capital of Ireland – was provoking his colleagues by quoting extracts from The Echo newspaper.
As one of the others remarked: “he can really stir it up though, ‘Canty’?”
The Kilkenny Observer would like to thank RTÉ archives for use of photos in this article
