LEST WE FORGET

My 1st Poppy (old style)

One of my personal favourite Anniversaries is Anzac Day when the country commemorates those killed in war as well as honouring returned servicemen and women. In the UK it is called Remembrance Day and in the USA it is called Memorial Day, but in New Zealand and Australia it is called Anzac Day and is held on the 25th April each year. I am of the generation that grew up shortly after the end of WW2 and Anzac Day has always had a special significance in our family as a time to reflect on family members who were involved in both World Wars in particular.

In recent years and mainly because of my family research. I have found and recorded details of family members , some of who are buried in a foreign grave or who returned home wounded or with war stories that have made an impression on me and my family. We have always looked on Anzac Day as a "Special Day" and I can remember as a child, the Parnell RSA full of old Digs who came back to the club after attending the huge parades we used to have in the Auckland Domain and at the Auckland War Memorial Museum. Woe betide any child who ran across the Consecrated ground in front of the Cenotaph at anytime of the year. We were extremely proud of our Uncle David when he was chosen to play the Last Post on the bugle at one dawn service and I can remember him practicing for weeks beforehand. It is not an easy instrument to play.

Vehicular Ferry Auckland

In the late 1940s and 50s everything was closed for the whole of Anzac Day and except for the noise from the RSA Clubrooms, New Zealand was QUIET! When I began marching in Highland Pipe Bands as a teenager, our Anzac Day parades were on the North Shore at Birkenhead and then on to Northcote. In those days we used to cross the harbour in a vehicular ferry and on my very 1st parade (which happened to be Anzac Day) I managed to get a lift with our Drum Major. Wearing a full dress uniform was a proud moment and everything was cleaned and polished to a very high degree. The Drum Major, Frank, kept looking at me sideways as we crossed the harbour and at one stage he asked me to get out of the car, so he could check my uniform as he was sure there was something wrong. Kilt was correct, Sporran was not too low, Doublet buttons were all in order, He was PUZZLED! Then just as we were getting back into the car he shouted out "Your bloody spats are on the wrong leg!" (I had the buttons on the inside) Oh the shame! But of course it never happened again.

Signals Pipe Band Auckland Domain

We then marched for a couple of years in the Main Auckland Anzac parade at the Cenotaph. In those days we started marching from Grafton Bridge, down Carlton Gore Road and along the Domain Drive to the Cenotaph led by a huge number of World War 1 veterans and about 12 pipe and brass bands. The sound of marching feet is still a vivid memory and it was sad when I took my daughter to a recent parade and the few veterans from World War 2, who could still march, left from the duck pond just down from the cenotaph. The World War 1 vets of course are just a distant memory and in fact I was fortunate enough to participate in the last parade in Auckland of the World War 1 Veterans, when we paraded up Queen Street in Auckland back in the 1970s

Then the band became attached to the Point Chevalier RSA and Mt Roskill RSA and have continued to march on Anzac Day at this venue ever since. (Mt Roskill has faded away in recent years, so the band doesn't attend there anymore)

Pt Chevalier Anzac Day

My claim to fame was to attend every Anzac Parade for over 30 years, except for one year when I was away on my honeymoon. (I managed to see the Anzac parade in the Nelson district of the South Island as we drove past) The Pt Chevalier RSA has a special place in my book of memories and I met and made many friends over the years. Anzac Day of course has always been a wonderful opportunity for us to pay homage to all those men and women who gave so much for the freedoms we enjoy today.

My most memorable Anzac Day parade was in 2004 when I had the privilege of marching in the New Plymouth City  Dawn parade and later in the morning at the main citizens service in the company of my 2nd Cousin Errol Allison. Errol (or Bill as he is known) had a very exciting and dangerous experiences and he is the last remaining member of the platoon that was commanded by our double VC Winner Captain Charles Upham. Errol served with the 21st Btn in the Desert and Crete, was captured at Bel

Errol in front of "the Kilted Person"

Hamed and became a POW who escaped 3 times. He is my Hero and at the age of 93 is still going strong. This Dawn parade was a fantastic experience for me, especially as I was allowed to march beside Errol and his comrades from the 1939-45 conflict and I will always remember the sound of marching feet and medals gently clanking in the darkness before the dawn. It was a memory I will never forget. A funny incident happened after the parade as we were all standing around chatting to old mates of Errol's. A young teenager approached me and said "What Scottish Regiment were you in during the war?" I replied "Listen here Sonny, a bit of grey hair doesn't mean anything!"

I have been a Service member of the RSA for more than 3 decades and have seen many, many changes. I do miss the cameraderie of Anzac Day parades, the 1st tot of rum after the march, lining up after the ceremonies to have a wonderful hot lunch of bangers and mash and veges cooked in a huge pot and the wonderful entertainment we enjoyed throughout the day. Many of my old RSA friends have passed away, but the memories of this special time will remain with me forever.

                                                            LEST WE FORGET

Colin the Cardigan returns but the Heifers are Mincemeat

EXCITING NEWS!! Colin the Cardigan is back! Full details on this amazing story of resurrection coming soon :-)

In the meantime I will go and repair last nights damage from the Heifers who got spooked at 2.15am. Thank Goodness it wasn't raining! I think it may have been a possum or a wild cat, but they ran through two fences and one gate. Demolished one of our plum trees in the orchard and once they calmed down they ate the tops off our miniature Apricot trees, which are just starting to come away nicely after two years.

Instead of having nice individual names as outlined in an earlier blog, for the next week they are collectively named HAMBURGER! ... Except for Pirate who has an excuse for being easily startled.

LOOK OUT POSSUMS! I am on the warpath!

My Turnbull Reivers from the Borders

"If you live between two hostile neighbours who are constantly at each others throats, you are not likely to have a quiet life"

Our House in Falcon Street

When I was a child we lived in Falcon Street Parnell in Auckland and as a family we lived not far from my Grandparents who lived close by in Garfield Street. In the 1940s and 50s my Aunts and Uncles also lived in Garfield street and we had a wonderful family association, even though times were tough immediately after the War. My Nana received many letters and other items from the Family in Selkirk and we all grew up surrounded in the wonderful Scottish culture that basically enveloped my early childhood. Nana had a lovely Scots accent and we all enjoyed reading copies of the Sunday Post and the cartoons of Oor Wullie and The Broons, two famous Border identities. Grandad regaled us with stories of his time in the two famous Scottish regiments during the War, the 9th Royal Scots and the HLI and he had brought home many souvenirs of his time in the Army. He still had his kilt, Glengarry and other bits of uniform and many photos some even from hospitals where he recuperated after being gassed. (I still have many mementos that have been passed on including 1 German Mark inscribed Mons 1917, his hose flashes and buttons and shoulder flashes off his uniform, but that will wait for a future blog)

I loved my Scottish family and of course my Mother who was proudly born in Selkirk was regarded as our top promoter of all things Scottish! Occasionally we would be treated to a school assembly that concluded with a march back to class with Pipes and Drums music from a loud speaker recording that was set-up on a small balcony above the Headmasters Office He was a Mr Menzies and I am sure with a name like that, he enjoyed this music over brass band music too!. When I was presented with my first kilt as a young teenager, my Nana was just so proud and couldn't stop telling everyone she knew.

Turnbull Crest

During my early life I did not have time to research much of my Family genealogy, but once I realised I was going to be the self elected family Seanachaidh (pron. shan-ah-kee n. (Gaelic): story-teller, bard, clan historian and genealogist) and started seriously collating items for my family tree, I just couldn't stop. I tracked down and contacted lost family members back in Scotland and read as much as I could about our Turnbull Family history which was my Nana's maiden name. One day I met a lovely Scot named Ruadh (Ruari) and he was really into his Scottish family research, He had served on mine sweepers in the North Sea during the War and had many interesting stories to tell. When he found out that my Turnbull Family came from the Borders he launched into a wonderful history lesson about the families who were famous along the Borders and how they were known as Reivers. From then on, I proudly informed anyone who would listen, that I was a descendant of famous Border Reivers. (I knew that the word "Souter" is also used to refer to native of Selkirk, which was once noted for its manufacture of light shoes, but I hadn't checked on the origins of "Reiver")

Shock horror! I found out that Reivers were basically bandits and sheep stealers, who raided farms in England and stole  anything they could lay their hands on! Apparently"Reive" is an early English word for "to rob

The Reivers at  Flodden

When I met up with Ruadh again, I explained how loath I was to skite about my Reivers in case I met up with someone from the English Border area who might want compensation. He mailed me a wonderful list of "The Reivers Code of Honour" and I present it here for your enjoyment. I LOVE IT and apologies to the English! 

"Live free and prosper!"

1.  Don't get caught.

2.  If you do get caught, deny everything.

3.  If that doesn't work, die well, and take as many Sassanach with you as possible.

4.  If you have a choice between stealing cattle and stealing weapons, take the weapons.  They don't require feeding and will help you on the next raid.

5.  If you have a choice between cattle and sheep, take the sheep.  Fleece grows back and leather doesn't.

6.  Never steal from a blacksmith.

7.  Usquebagh loosens a tongue better than steel and it wags longer.

8.  Usquebagh dulls wits and sharpens steel.

9.  Woad is your friend.  It is a disguise which hides in plain sight and one size fits all.

10. You can always trust a Sassanach as long as you're watching him while you're trusting him.

11. All Sassanach are the same only some are worse.

12. The only good Sassanach is one who buys back all the cattle you've reived from him.

13. The three best things are a good meal before and a wee drop after.

14. A good dagger can get you out of places a good sword got you into.

15. Enough gold can get you out faster.

16. Enough Usquebagh in the right places works better than oil on squeaky hinges; lubricate the gaoler and no one will hear you escape.

17. Even a dull blade can kill.

18. The Land before Clan, Clan before Country.

19. A brother's sword is kinder than a Sassanch noose.

20. Know the length of your enemy's stride as well as that of his sword.

21. The shorter the road to market the fatter the cow; the fatter the cow the fatter the purse.

22. Life is like a haggis; if you hae no tried it, you shouldna knock it.

23. Coin makes a fair jingle and it will no burn.

24. Live well enough not to fear your enemies writing your epitaph; live long enough to write theirs.

25. Three things worth dying for: Love, Land and Loyalty.

26. A little bloodshed gives a thing more value.

27. The two best colours: plaid and Usquebagh.

28. The King's silver is better than his word. Any King's silver.

29. Honour the Auld Alliance, but be wary. The Bretons are Celts as we are, and look what the French have done to them.

30. You always know who the mother is.

31. A dead cow has many uses.  A dead man has none.

32. Never steal anything that can eat you.

33. Never steal anything you can't afford to feed, unless it can feed you.

34. The theft of a prize bull should be carefully planned.

35. Never steal a brown bull in Ireland.

[NOTE: the reference to bull stealing in Ireland refers to the Ta/in Bo/ Cuailnge", "the Cattleraid of Cooley", an Irish epic written around the time of Christ. In this case the bull was reived by Maeve and the men of Connacht from Ulster. It was retrieved by Cuchulain and the Red Branch "Knights". The route is well known today and  you can retrace the trail of Cuchulain today through Louth. Since this was before the Del Riadians moved

from Ulster to Scotland with their King Scotti -- even if you are Scots you can fantasize that your ancestors participated.]

There are a number of very interesting websites dedicated to the Reivers. Great fun!

http://www.squidoo.com/borderreivers

http://www.sorbie.net/border_reivers.htm

http://www.reivershistory.co.uk/

OOR WULLIE

© D C Thompson & Co Ltd

                                             

My Easter Experience

Easter came a little earlier this year and it intrigues me how many folk don't seem to realise that this Christian event should be a time of reflection and not just an opportunity to have a long weekend off work or an extended lie-in or even waste time trolling a shopping Mall!

My Dad was basically a "Sunworshipper" although I know he came from a Christian background. His mantra was "If the Sun doesn't come up in the morning, the World is doomed and we might as well go back to bed!" Dad told us that we weren't all baptised as children because he preferred us to make our own decision and not be basically forced to take any particular religion. My Mother was a baptised Anglican although she was born in Scotland and she often regaled us with stories of her time in the choir at St Mary's Cathedral in Parnell. As children we often attended Sunday School bible classes in a building at the top of the Parnell Rise and I remember always enjoying singing "Onward Christian Soldiers" with gusto! A  lady by the name of "Mrs Peel" played the organ and ran the services. This small Mission was assisted by my Grandfather, who had attended a similar set-up in Oldham in the UK and a small Boystown group was formed there as well, probably inspired by his involvement as a child in the Salford Lads Club in Manchester. I believe my older brother attended St Josephs Catholic school in Parnell for a short period, before we all attended Parnell Primary School in Gladstone Rd.



Knox Church & Hall Parnell.

 As a preschooler I attended Kindergarten at the Knox Presbyterian hall in Parnell and remember walking up Parnell road with other little folk, while hanging onto a long rope. This is what is known as a walking bus today (sorry all you young folk, we had this in the 1940s already, it ain't new!) I was also a member of the Parnell St Mary's Cub and Scout troop and our activities all took place at the rear of St Mary's church. My Sister was also christened in the Anglican church, but as we grew up, religion was never forced on us as individuals and I believe this made it more interesting. Even today, I don't enjoy being harangued about Religion by any person in a pulpit either at a funeral or a wedding. Over the years I have met many Ministers/Priests who have impressed me with their dedication to their cause and I have enjoyed their company and their ability to communicate their position on religion as they understand it. All in all I had a good grounding in a variety of religious organisations, including the YMCA as a teenager and in my opinion the youth of today are missing a valuable experience and are not being taught the basic principles of Christianity which have stood the test of time until the recent downgrading of our Christian Society. (Here Endeth the Rant!)

Holy Cross Church Henderson

Other notable religious events occurred in my life, including my first purchase of land in Henderson a suburb of West Auckland for a deposit of 30 pounds. The property was part of a small cul de-sac that was owned by the Catholic Church and my deed of ownership shows that I purchased this section from the Catholic Archbishop of Auckland, Archbishop Liston who was very famous in his day and had been a very loyal supporter of the Irish State. He was widely regarded as this country’s Catholic “patriarch”. The only artifact I ever dug up was a small piece of pottery, but no fancy expensive gold crucifixes. Further down the next street was Holy Cross Catholic church and school and in a Convent next to the school a group of Nuns lived. Later on, they moved out and a number of Capuchin Friars arrived and it was wonderful having these pleasant young men from a society founded by St Francis of Assisi walking around, dressed in cassocks and sandals, and they gave the district a rather nice "Old World" atmosphere.

St Mary's Church Avondale NZ

My most notable experience was when I was formally baptised at the age of 24 into the Roman Catholic Faith. I had decided that I would marry my then fiancee' in the church and in those days it was insisted that both should be Catholic. I met with a Father McGrath at St Mary's Catholic church in Avondale Auckland and began a series of instruction in the Faith and over a period of months I became a convert to the Faith. I loved the services I attended and especially as a lot of it was in Latin and I also enjoyed the lesson in self denial each Friday where fish replaced meat for dinner. Just before Easter, I was baptised and shortly after Easter we were married. I had always worn a St Christopher medal for good luck, but I swapped this for a lovely gold crucifix which I then wore for many years. Some years later we had a major family crisis and my marriage failed and after my wife left our home I became a solo parent with three children, 7,5 and 10 months. In the beginning I was a bit of an emotional wreck and one night I decided I would go to the church I was baptised in and speak with Father McGrath. The Church was some miles away and it was quite late when I knocked on his door and I was greeted by his housekeeper who told me he wasn't available and to come back another day. I was a bit stunned by this remark and I felt rather flat on the way home. Some months later I went to Holy Cross for some private prayer and the church was locked! I was told the next day that the church would be closed "after hours" as there had been some vandalism. My faith was dented and over the next few years I closed my mind to religion except for official occasions, such as weddings, baptisms etc. (I note in the UK news today, that many churches have had to be locked because of vandalism)

12 years ago I was diagnosed with Melanoma cancer and after a number of tests, I had a large cancerous growth removed from my back. 5 years later in a routine check, my surgeon was devastated to find another melanoma under my left arm pit. I then had more surgery and my lymph nodes were removed. I now have a 3 monthly check at the local hospital to keep an eye on more appearances. (Fortunately, there have been no more to date.) Then 6 years ago I was diagnosed with prostate cancer and had major surgery to remove this cancer. I was beginning to wonder if I was being punished in some way for my lack of faith.

St Johns Catholic Church Parnell

A couple of days before I had the surgery, we had our last meeting with our Volunteers who assist us in folding and collating our fortnightly print production. We make a donation to this Baptist Church group and this money is used to assist their overseas Missionaries who do charitable work in a number of countries. When the group gathered for our usual extensive"after work" afternoon tea, they asked me to sit in a chair next to Lyn and then they spontaneously gathered around us and enquired if I would agree to them saying a prayer for my successful surgery and a quick return to good health. Without any hesitation I agreed and the Leader of their prayer group began to speak, while the rest of the group occasionally murmured assent during the spoken prayer, which lasted possibly two minutes. It is difficult to explain a sudden feeling of relaxation that came over me and in fact I can remember a slight feeling of electric type stimulation that enveloped my whole body. I had never experienced anything quite like it (and I have not experienced it since) You can call it my "epiphany" but I could not explain this wonderful feeling that was so strong and yet it left me feeling very calm and suddenly untroubled! (I have not spoken to anyone about this before.) Perhaps there is something about the power of prayer and I will always remember this moment with amazement and even gratitude for their support.

Celtic Cross

I had the surgery and although the surgeon did not clear the cancer 100% I am still alive seven years after. I continue to see specialists every three months and I am having hormone treatment which is keeping me on a steady course. I remember well the night Father McGrath explained that "Religion was 100% about believing and if you didn't believe, well you might as well not bother at all." I BELIEVE!

I hope you have had a rewarding and peaceful Easter.








Paul Thomas from the NZ Herald writes in his column that Easter should be a time to "shop till you drop" if so desired.
http://www.nzherald.co.nz/opinion/news/article.cfm?c_id=466&objectid=10798699
I wouldn't want to try and dissuade anyone from doing what they want to do, but Easter IS a religious celebration and we should remember that in our so called "secular society"

If you're Irish come into the Parlour or Céad Míle Fáilte

O'BRIEN CREST

On this years St Patrick's Day as I was doing a myriad of chores around the farm, I began thinking about my own Irish background, our O'Brien family and what it means to be a Celtic Kiwi. Our family have always been very proud of our O'Brien name " Gaelic spelling is "Ua Briain " The name derives from the tenth century King of Ireland Brian Boru, High King of Ireland who was killed at the Battle of Clontarf  at Easter in the year 1014. Our Motto "Lamh laidir an Uachtar" means "The Strong Hand Uppermost" (Spelling) It should be "Lámh Láidir in Uachtar" (Pronounced) Low (rhymes with "cow") LAW-jir un OO-ukh-tur and some dialects would say that first word "lahv". I was named after Brian Boru but my middle name is "Roderick or Ruari" because my Mother insisted on having a Scottish link as she was born in Selkirk, Scotland.

Our Tribal name is Dál gCais ( or Dalcassian in the English) and there were a number of Septs, the largest of which were based in Counties Clare, Limerick, Tipperary and Waterford. It is in these Counties that the majority of our ancestors and their descendants can still be found. There is great excitement in the O'Brien Clan as there are going to be a number of Millennium celebrations associated with Brian Boru in 2014 and we have been invited to a number of these. A large Lotto win would help our cause and enable Lyn and I to attend!

The renaissance of Maori traditions in New Zealand over the past decade or so is interesting as many folk are keen to nominate their tribal affiliations (except when they are in a criminal court apparently) and I am always pleased to associate myself with the Dalcassian tribe, just to keep the balance.

Some years ago I became interested in family Genealogy and joined an online Virtual University for a couple of semesters. Our class had 8400 students and I still communicate with a couple even after 15 years. I was helped along the way in 1996 when an elderly relative, previously unknown to me, was contacted and to my delight he presented me with all his research on our O'Brien family from the late 1800s. My search began in earnest!

Grandad & Dad

My NZ O'Brien connection, Great Grandfather Andrew Patrick O'Brien came from Waterford and although he stated he was a passenger on a ship, we believe he actually was a crew member who deserted in Foxton and then made his way to New Plymouth where he met my Grandmother. She was a young 18 year old immigrant from the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire and they married soon after. I was thrilled and delighted to find that Andrew Patrick O'Brien joined the Armed Constabulary (the forerunner of the NZ Police Force) and was enlisted as a groom and he stated that he had been a member of the Irish Dragoons in Ireland. I was disappointed to then read that he was dismissed after 6 months for punching an Officer! Further research found him appearing in court for fighting in Hawera in the Taranaki District where the family lived. He eventually deserted the family leaving my Great Grandmother Adeline with 7 young children to care for and after numerous brushes with the law, he then headed for the South Island. My Father told me that he used to travel around the South Island and competed at bare knuckle fighting events at 2/6 per tournament which wasn't what you would call a real job and he also lived on the West Coast where he worked as a labourer. He lived in a crib or bach and owned a section of land, but I haven't been able to find where it was and I believe overdue rates could be an issue. He died on 20th December 1934 in Dunedin after living with the Little Sisters of the Poor organisation.

My O'Brien research came to a grinding halt when I found details of Andrew's parents. His Father was named Patrick O'Brien and you can imagine how many Patrick O'Briens there were in Ireland to be investigated. I thought I was onto a winner when I found his Mother's name was Bridget Kent, but once again the name Bridget is very common in Ireland, so until I can find exactly where they came from in Waterford (or perhaps even another county) I am stuck. I often get emails from the USA and these are headed " Dear Cousin etc" and the correspondent is usually looking for a Patrick O'Brien connection. We have always been very proud of our O'Brien name and our Irish links and it hasn't been too difficult to learn the songs and read the history.

Uilleann pipes are still a favourite musical instrument along with the bodhrán and a favourite piper is Brian O'Brien playing "Caoineadh Cu Chulainn"  (pronounced Kweena Coo Hulling’ or Kweena Koo Kulling, depending on your district) It was written by the same musician Mike Whelan from Riverdance and is a haunting lament. You can Google this for a youtube video of him playing http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LLB4LRQ3Jk

I guess things were very tough in New Zealand in the late 1800s with a financial depression, no Social welfare and just the fact that each day was a struggle for ordinary immigrants looking for work. My O'Brien Family obviously had a very tough life, but I have documented some fantastic stories from my NZ O'Brien family over the decades and this has ensured further unabated enthusiasm for my future family research.

Hermione in drydock

My heart sank when I first started looking for my Adeline's family roots as she was a JONES from the Forest of Dean on the Welsh border, but I have had incredible luck and we now have a huge pile of records and data of my Jones Family, some of them Itinerant Tinsmiths who moved around the Gloucester region in England and Wales. Adeline & Andrew were both supposed to have emigrated on the Hermione, but I can only find reference to her as I am convinced he deserted another ship where he was a crew member. (Yet to be proven either way)

Over the years I have had to defend many of the happenings in Ireland becuase of my  O'Brien name, especially with the IRA and the Troubles and I am thankful that none of my family to my knowledge have ever been involved in this awful situation that still simmers away even after the Easter Accords. I know my Father had very strong Republican feelings, but he was from an earlier generation and no doubt been schooled by his Father on which side to support. He told me that he once was asked to take an elderly gentleman with a "gammy leg" to the Auckland CPO to collect his British pension. As they arrived at the Post office, Dad enquired as to which Regiment this chap had served in. "The Black & Tans" he proudly announced. Dad left him standing on the steps and drove away!

For a number of years I was corresponding with a Canadian Brian O'Brien who had started up a world wide database of Brian O'Briens. He said that until the age of 15 years he thought he was the only one, but his database in the 1980s had reached 350 and that was before the Internet. I have also emailed another Brian O'Brien in Cork and he was looking forward to attending the shortest St Patricks Parade in the world in Dripsey, Cork. The parade lasts just 100 yards and travels between the village's two pubs. (They alternate the start and finish each year)

Father  McGrath Headstone

My funniest personal O'Brien experience was when I was a 24 year old convert to Catholicism and about to be married in a Catholic church. When I was first introduced to my local Parish priest, the Reverend Father McGrath, who hailed from Tipperary, he said in his beautiful Irish brogue " Brian O'Brien? And what the hell are you coming to me for Instruction for!" We got on famously and he was a lovely man with a wonderful "Gift of the Gab" and co-incidently he is buried right next to my Mother at Waikumete Cemetry in Auckland. I remember the first night I attended pipe band practice as a teenager, when the Drum Major came to the door, introduced himself and enquired as to my name. When I told him Brian O'Brien, he looked at the green tie I was wearing and said" You must be Joking!" I believe these are called "assumptions" Needless to say it was a very proud drummer who became a life member of the band and who very proudly wore a kilt for more than 50 years. But that is another story!

A young Brian O'Brien
Drummer c1957

Our band performed at many parades and we always had a grand bracket of tunes (called the Irish Bracket!) which was always very popular. I have a number of videos of these parades and on many occasions pipe bands showed no originality and continued to play "Scotland the Brave" instead of "The Wearing of the Green" etc. I remember when we attended the 1st major St Pats parade in Auckland and we played non-stop from the beginning to the end and ONLY played Irish tunes. The Nuns loved it!

I hope you all enjoyed your St Patrick's Day, which seems to have grown substantially throughout the world over the years. I know we do.

Go here for a nice Irish Stew Recipe

http://svkitchen.com/?p=4697