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Updated: May 23, 2025
Every cross-road had its Sinn Fein sentries, every point of vantage was loopholed for miles around, and it was a mere stroke of luck that Annesley Bridge had not been blown up and so cut off Amiens Street Station, which held 300 troops, from the north. We only saw two soldiers in nine miles, and these were at a pier-head at Dollymount, half way.
On more than one occasion, a dozen at the lowest, near the North Bull at Dollymount he had remarked a superannuated old salt, evidently derelict, seated habitually near the not particularly redolent sea on the wall, staring quite obliviously at it and it at him, dreaming of fresh woods and pastures new as someone somewhere sings. And it left him wondering why.
A scheme to enclose the peninsular delta of the North Bull at Dollymount and erect on the space of the foreland, used for golf links and rifle ranges, an asphalted esplanade with casinos, booths, shooting galleries, hotels, boardinghouses, readingrooms, establishments for mixed bathing. A scheme for the use of dogvans and goatvans for the delivery of early morning milk.
There he tilted his hatbrim to give shade to his eyes and leaned against the doorcase, looking idly out. Father John Conmee stepped into the Dollymount tram on Newcomen bridge. Corny Kelleher locked his largefooted boots and gazed, his hat downtilted, chewing his blade of hay. Constable 57C, on his beat, stood to pass the time of day. That's a fine day, Mr Kelleher. Ay, Corny Kelleher said.
Andrews Badly-placed bunkers A good second hole The finest one-shot hole to be found anywhere An unfair hole The best holes at Muirfield Troon North Berwick Cruden Bay Dornoch Machrihanish A splendid course at Islay The most difficult hole I know Gullane Kilspindie Luffness Links in Ireland Portrush Portmarnock Dollymount Lahinch Newcastle Welsh courses Ashburnham Harlech On the south and south-west coasts The rushes at Westward Ho!
He turned seaward from the road at Dollymount and as he passed on to the thin wooden bridge he felt the planks shaking with the tramp of heavily shod feet. A squad of christian brothers was on its way back from the Bull and had begun to pass, two by two, across the bridge. Soon the whole bridge was trembling and resounding.
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