A ‘Sheepless’ Night
Angling has been very good to me. It’s taken me all over the world apart from the far east. But one of my favourite countries is Ireland, lovely people, beautiful scenery, great fishing.
I went across to Westport, County Mayo with a journalist from the Angling Times a few years ago. With us were a couple of lads from the North East who had won the trip through a competition, which I had run on Radio Newcastle. The plan was that we would stay a couple of nights at the Helm Hotel on the quayside at Westport – the owner, Vinny Keogh, has his own charter boat – then to go out to Clare Island for two or three nights where the shore fishing is great.
Off Westport is Clew bay and there are 365 islands in the bay – one for every day of the year. Clare Island is the largest of the islands and the furthest out, being about 17 miles off the coast – and the next stop is America.
On the first night on the Island we got the taxi along to the hotel for a drink. As the islanders are known for ‘multi-tasking’, the taxi is actually a tractor with a big bucket type thing on the back. Transportation is by standing in the bucket and holding on tight – honest.
Around midnight, I and one of the lads decided that we had enough, so we walked the quarter mile back to where we were staying.
The guy from the Angling Times left to come back at about one o’clock on his own. Now he was sleeping downstairs and, as he had a room to himself, he had jokingly expressed the wish that he had a woman to share it with him (dirty little devil).
The skipper Francis Clark, Norman Dunlop from the Irish Tourist Board, the crewman Tom and a couple of local chaps and the other prize winners made their way back about three in the morning, stopping for a kebab on the way. On Clare Island the shop doesn’t open till two in the morning!
They were all a little “merry” and, walking back along the cliff top, one of the lads tripped over a sheep that had been lying asleep in the middle of the road. They decided to bring it back to the rooms with them. So, picking the poor thing up, they carried it back. Hoping that the sheep would join in their little party, they were disappointed to find that it didn’t like kebabs. Wondering what to do with it, they decided that it would be comfortable in the room where the Angling Times chap was sleeping – as he had said that he “wished he had a female to share his room !!!
His door was opened and the sheep was pushed in. About a minute later all hell broke loose. The sheep had jumped onto the bed and he woke up screaming – they must have heard him on the mainland. In his panic he couldn’t find the light switch so he didn’t know what this “thing” was.
We could hear him falling over things - furniture being knocked over - his frantic screams – and hammering on the walls trying to find the door. By this time we were having hysterics. Eventually, he managed to find the light switch. When we went into his room you would think a bomb had hit it – there was broken furniture and his clothes were scattered all over. But, the worst part was the sheep had s–t everywhere – on his clothes – on his bed – on him. I swear some of it was his though!
He didn’t speak to us for two days afterwards, I don’t know why.
