A magnificent man from Clonakilty in Cork sent me a book three weeks ago which has thrilled and enthralled me ever since.

His name is Michael O'Donovan from Rossmore, and I can put his book entitled "Then and Now" in perfect context by quoting a few lines from the letter that came along with it:

"My grandmother was born the year of the Famine 1846. Both my parents were children of tenant farmers. 

“I am a retired farmer aged 85. I started writing the book aged 83, launched the book last year at the age of 84. It has been a remarkable success locally.

“I'm enjoying good health Thank God. I am privileged to be able to say that I wrote a book at my age." 

And by heavens we are privileged even more by being able to read it. It has been my treasure trove since it arrived, and I will be dipping into it again for you in the weeks and months to come.

You see, the truth is that Michael writes very well, simply and strongly, is apparently equipped with a near total recall memory, has a great and informed love of his own place, has interesting yarns to tell, and, since his grandmother Mary lived until 1836, and helped to raise them as children, has a powerful link right back to the Famine times for his family and their neighbors.

His grandmother, for example, so deeply remembered the hunger of her childhood that, if given an apple, she would eat one half and put the other half away in a safe place for eating later. And Michael himself remembers the Black and Tans of his childhood as if it were yesterday.

It is very special indeed is "Then and Now." It's history made flesh if you like.

I'm torn between about three threads of it now, but because I passed a travelers' campfire near Shannon this morning I'll deal with Michael's memories of the travelers of Clonakilty and hinterland in his younger days.

He begins by saying that when they were young they were always delighted to see the arrival of the travelers in the parish. Different groups of them would call around five or six times a year in total, and each different group would stop at the same area every time. The halting site was always "between Brendan O'Donovan's house and Austin Deasy's." 

The boy wondered then how the travelers survived when times were so hard for everybody. "They had no caravans then, all they had was a flat-style cart mounted high so that they could sleep under the cart at night, and all the worldly possessions they had would be placed on the cart by day.

“The travelers had a mighty survival instinct. To protect themselves from the weather they would always park for the night placing the cart close beside a solid fence. There would be no through draught.

“On arrival the first job would be to start up a fire. They would have collected a big supply of sticks and timber that would be sure to keep the fire going until they moved on the next day.

“The fire would be set up always at the rear of the cart and each group had a portable crane or iron frame to hold up the pots and pans for cooking."

And Michael, after noting the prowess of the menfolk as tinsmiths, beautifully describes the begging process at every local door conducted by the womenfolk who arrived along with a child laden with tin cans and pots of every size and shape.

I recall that myself, but his description misses nothing at all of the detail. After blessing the house, for example, the womenfolk would begin to look for food for their families which, he notes, never numbered less than 10 or 11.

"And the most amusing of all was when she started begging for ‘tay.’ Any chance of getting a grain of ‘tay’ mam.

“I could do without many a thing, but I am mad for the supeen of tay. Maybe you have a grain of the black tay -- meaning the blackmarket tea during the war years 1939-1945 and for some years afterwards.

“When the begging was finished she would try selling the cans. If failing to sell the cans she would try bartering -- I will give you that fine can for a dozen of eggs and a dacent woman like yourself might throw in a few extra -- tis tough to be on the roads, them wans in the big houses would give you nothing."  I remember it well myself.

Meanwhile, writes Michael, the roguish menfolk would call for a bag of straw for family bedding. But they would pack the heart of the bag with sweet hay for their ponies as well. And the straw was for the family bedding.

The next day young boys would arrive at the door trying to sell a donkey to the farmer. At night their stock would be put into the best field of grass beside the camp but would be removed before dawn.

If there were a number of ponies with the convoy they would put a halter on one, tie it to the back of the cart, then tie the halter of the next pony to the tail of the first.

"It was a real safe setup as any pony could not lash out at the pony at the rear. When a pony's tail was tied he could not lash back as he would normally as he could not swish his tail first -- in other words he was bound to keep the peace!" 

They were experts at cross-breeding their animals to produce mules and jennets from ponies and donkeys. It was, I discover, more difficult to breed a mule. They had their own customs, laws, traditions.

These were tough times, and Michael delivers some of the realities such as the fact that a traveler woman of that era might knot a rock into her shawl to chastise somebody.

And he writes this, "Another story was told me by a person who witnessed it at Ross Fair. This traveler was beating his wife when a policeman came on the scene. The policeman was quickly told what to do.

“And then the traveler remarked, ‘I know to the last stroke what this wan can take!”

Tough times indeed, but he generally feels that most of the travelers were decent people making their way along a hard road as best they could.

It's a great folkloric kind of history is "Then and Now," written by a clearly special man.  I don't know anything about its general availability, but if you are interested you could write to Michael directly at Derrivereen, Rossmore, Clonakilty, Co. Cork.

I see from my copy that it costs €20 here, and you'd need to add something for postage.

It is well worth whatever little it costs, and I'll surely be dipping into it again here.