Monthly Archives: March 2019

Paddy Vaughan – one of a kind.

On March 17, 1931 Paddy was born. Today on March 17, 2019 he is no longer with us, having called time on February 13th last, just 32 days or so before his 88th birthday.

Paddy Vaughan 1931 – 2019
(image via Brendan Vaughan)

Every neighbourhood has a small number of people who make a disproportionate contribution to their community. They may selflessly volunteer time for local initiatives or charity work; they may be genial local sports personalities, or people dedicated to older people, or to their church. Either way they all make a great difference to other people around them. Beyond that there is a handful of others – ‘characters’ who are magnets for people around the place – their neighbours, fellow parishioners, people from neighbouring parishes and occasional visitors. An acquaintance of thousands, and friend of many from near and far, from all walks of life. Such was Paddy Vaughan.

Paddy was for many years our door neighbour, when they lived at the top of the street and before they moved up in the world, to the top of Figart. My younger siblings lived in their house, because they were of a similar age with Paddy’s children. My other brother and I were a few years older. At the time my family took the emigrant boat, there were five Vaughan children. Paddy was a handyman – if you needed anything done, he was the man. He cruised about on his motorbike dispensing handiwork, local gossip and wisdom in equal measure. He drove lorries to the hill to get the turf as as well as driving the local big cars for the owners.

Paddy making a St Brigid’s Cross
(Photo via Brendan Vaughan)

Paddy had an encyclopedic brain and an astonishing memory. He certainly could spin a yarn and knew more about people in the parish than anyone. (It could be said that maybe he knew more about them than they knew about themselves.) He was no saint and there was more than a bit of divilment about him. A great entertainer too, who probably never knew just how good he was at lifting spirits and having the craic. This is why so many liked and enjoyed his company and sought him out whenever they could. There was a constant stream of callers to his house, people looking for good company and a good chat. He was a one-stop-shop for knowledge and well being.

Last year again, I was fortunate enough to have a wee visit with him in September. My cousin Gerry Coyle was with me and Paddy had not seen him in many decades, yet he knew him instantly! I was totally astonished and Gerry was totally chuffed.

September 2018 Me, Paddy and Cousin Gerry

Paddy’s death has left a huge void in the community and in the hearts of his friends. But that is as nothing compared to the loss to his 11 children and to his grandchildren.  Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.

If a parish can commemorate a local midwife, a local doctor and a local historian because of their expertise and service to the community, I would like to think that it could include an ‘ordinary’ man in their roll of honour, a man who served so many in the community so well for so long. Paddy Vaughan, Character, Entertainer, Oral Historian, Memory Man, Friend and Companion to hundreds.

Now that was community service!


 bheidh a leithéid ann arís.

Here again is my blog about Paddy for his 87th Birthday in March 2018.

Paddy Vaughan, a local legend.

Today March 17, is St Patrick’s  Day in Ireland. Many male children born on this day have Patrick as their Christian name. One of those, living in the village that I call home in the north of County Donegal, will mark his 87th birthday today on 17 March 2018.

He is not known as Patrick at all, but as Paddy. Not only Paddy, but for many, many years of my life, he was ‘Young’ Paddy as his father was also Paddy, or ‘Old’  Paddy. ‘Old’ Paddy –  or to be more accurate ‘Ould’ Paddy in the Donegal pronunciation – died not long before Christmas in 1967 and I am not sure when ‘Young’ Paddy became known as simply ‘Paddy’ Vaughan.

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10 year old Paddy

Paddy was well known for his ‘tall tales’, many of which were totally outrageous, some of which were totally unbelievable and all of which were hilariously funny. He had a most astonishing imagination. He took no prisoners and spared no one when it came to the ‘main characters’ in these wild imaginings.

Vaughans were our next door neighbours in Carrigart, and in the way of it in small villages, Paddy was almost a member of our family. He often came with us on Sundays to visit our father’s extended network of aunts and cousins in Fanad.  With his trademark cap and ever present pipe, he would drive Pat Gallagher’s big Dodge into which we would pile to go to Fanad, or for an annual trip to the funfair and the Helter Skelter at Portrush. When our aunt came to Ireland for the first time in 18 years in the 1950s, Paddy drove us all the way from Carrigart to meet her in Athlone. Quite a trip back then.

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Paddy with our father and two of my brothers on a Sunday outing to Fanad. 1965

Our father thought the world of Paddy and they seem to have spent a lot of their time laughing and enjoying each others company. For years Paddy took to the street when the wind got high. Strong wind was a feature of life in north Donegal as gales were common especially in winter. Paddy would don his crash helmet and leave the house at the first sound of strong wind. He  was fearful of the chimney being blown off the house so felt it was safer to be outside. It was a wonder that he was never struck by flying slates!

Paddy always thought outside the box. Our brother Noel and his buddies, Andrew Speer and John Boylan, got lost when they were tiny wee boys of three or four. They had been missing a few hours when word came that they were sighted crossing the lee and headed for the sandy hills. The search moved there with everyone spread out calling their names. I can still see Paddy Vaughan way to my left on his big bicycle. Nobody would think of riding a bicycle on grass,through the impossible terrain of sand dunes and rabbit holes, but Paddy did. And he found the three little strays on the Rosapenna golf links, about to make their way to the shore at Tramore. There’s no doubt that the outcome could have been much worse but Paddy was the hero of the hour.

In September last I spent some time with Paddy. He is a fountain of knowledge and has the most amazing capacity for remembering details and people and events. I was absolutely gobsmacked when he said that he was there in the same room when our grandfather became ill. He said that our grandfather, J.D. Gallagher, was sitting next to the fire when he suddenly got sick. A short time later he would be dead, having contracted typhoid fever. Paddy said that two brothers from Carrick died of typhoid at about the same time.  Paddy would have been a teenager then but would have known our grandfather quite well as he taught him at school. J.D. spent a lot of time in Vaughan’s house too as he collected stories from Paddy’s grandmother, as can be seen here.

Paddy is now enjoying life as one of the village elders and his memory is legendary. We wish him the happiest of birthdays, with many more to come and the good health to enjoy them.

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Postcards from Geraldton Western Australia

Geraldton was one of our overnight stops on a road trip north to the Shark Bay Area. Some 425 kilometers north of Perth, it is an important modern port handling the export of wheat and ores from the mining industry. Established in the mid 19th century, the town of Geraldton has some lovely historic buildings reminiscent of early colonial times.

The old railway station
Set back from the newish main thoroughfare, this appears now to be a car park!

Marine Terrace seems to have been the original main street but now runs parallel to a thoroughfare nearer the sea. Beyond the Railway Station, there were some lovely buildings. With no time to investigate their history, it was enough to look and enjoy their beauty.

Also here are some modern memorials to historic events. A section of the coast near here is known as the Batavia Coast after the flagship of the East India Company that foundered on rocks off this coast in the 17th century.

Weibbe Hayes

Weibbe Hayes became a hero after he led a group of survivors of the shipwreck against mutineers after the ship ran aground. I was pleased to ‘meet’ him as I had already been very impressed by the Batavia exhibition at the Shipwrecks Gallery in Fremantle on a trip a few years back.

Surviving timbers of the Batavia at the Shipwrecks Gallery Fremantle. (Image Shipwrecks Gallery)

I have been fascinated for some time by posts from a fellow blogger, Jessica Barrat, who writes about historic events and collects great newspaper clippings about life in Western Australia. She had recently been sharing gems about cases of Bubonic Plague in Geraldton in the early 1900s – not that long ago! My favourite was a report that seaweed was being spread on the streets to reduce infection!

Jessica’s blog is at https://thedustybox.com/ and her twitter account is @jessb3. Well worth a follow!

It would have been wonderful to have had a little more time in Geraldton to explore its historic connection. My time in Geraldton was literally a couple of hours – but surely a teaser for a return visit to this most historic town, with stories of shipwrecks, famous carpets of spring flowers and an abundance of 19th century history.

Wildflowers on Geraldton from the everythinggeraldton website

I will be back!

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