OPINION: 'I am a man with a lot on his mind - namely briquettes,' writes Billy O'Riordan

Very soon now we will all be celebrating a significant anniversary. It is almost a year since Covid-19 first came knocking on our town walls.

I recall someone telling me that they had seen someone in town wearing a mask – can you imagine that, a mask!

Then the signs appeared in our GP surgeries asking us “had we been to China” followed by the appearance of floor graphics/markings, outside and then inside, our local shops.

Almost overnight hand sanitizer became more valuable than the Crown Jewels, with text messages flying around the town, giving each other the “heads up” on where to buy it.

Naively, we all thought that it would be over in a few weeks and things would then get back to normal – alas, how wrong we all were.

Almost a year has passed and still the dreaded virus has a daily impact on our work, social and personal lives.

The people of south Tipperary have endured many hardships over the course of the last year, with a glimmer of hope offered recently with the rollout of the vaccine – a rollout, which a team of retired clowns from Duffy’s Circus would have handled more efficiently.

Still, at least we have the summer to look forward to, with the promise of the relaxation of restrictions and the blazing sun to heal our weary spirits.

I am a man with a lot on his mind – namely briquettes. Before you go sending for the white coats, please bear with me, a while.

By now you might feel that I’ve developed a mild obsession with old peat. I am highlighting the issue again, just to make you aware of the type of strange measures which the men in green suits are imposing on us after 2024.

There is a German company called “Union Kaminbriketts”, a fine reputable company in every respect, which produces a type of “European briquette” for the Irish and European market.

We will still be able to buy this German briquette after our Irish made briquettes are obsolete. These decisions have all been made in the interest of the environment.

So, let me gaze into the future for a tick, it’s the winter of 2025 and a lot of snow has pummelled Clonmel. We are all freezing in our thermals, we decide to order up a few bales.

The bale that arrives to our doors has been manufactured in Profen (Saxony) or Freden (Rhineland) - Germany, then it transported all the way across Europe and then it’s placed on a large diesel guzzling ship and finally it’s driven to shops and coal merchants (if there are any left by then) finally arriving on our doorsteps.

Is it just me or does all this sound a bit bonkers? I love a Penguin Bar or a Fox’s Glacier Mint, just as much as the next fella, and I wouldn’t want the poor creatures to suffer, but what’s going on with the briquettes?

I can see myself in 2025, arranging a secret encounter in Sherlock’s Lane with a shady fella attired in a long trench coat, hat pulled down to cover his face.

I tentatively approach him, whispering “…have you any of the ‘good stuff’ I’m perished to the bone.”
He slides open his coat revealing an inside strap with a selection of “Grade A” pure Bord na Móna briquettes.

I nervously glance over my shoulders in case the rozzers are tailing me.

I do a deal for four bales of the “good stuff” and slink away into the night.
Is this a glance into my future?

This week the town and county were well and truly battered by a combination of wind and rain. The townsfolk flocked to the Convent and Gashouse bridges to gaze down at the sheer power of nature.

Flood waters caused roads to be closed and trips to our local parks to be cancelled. Still, it brought people out in the fresh air and gave us all a talking point instead of, you know what!

As the evenings lengthen and the spring sun feels warmer on our faces, we might for the first time start to consider holidays.

My friend TJ O’Keefe often shares his fabulous collection of photographs from places across the globe – prompting us to dream of the possibility of travel and new adventures.

TJ’s photos of sun-drenched Hawaii are a heaven-sent consolation as we huddle together in our wind-swept homes, clasping onto our briquettes for dear life.
Until next time.