Slow Train To Yesterday Away From Killarney, Published 28 May 1956

LIMERICK (Delayed) It was the slow train to yesterday, for sure, that took me away from Killarney. Quaint, gas lit coaches were lugged by an ancient Irish engine that was certainly on nodding acquaintance with the days of Queen Victoria, Yet, as this eight wheeler (oo-OO) hauled our three-car toy train, there was a certain elegance as we sat all alone in the first class. It was perhaps the most restful train trip we had had in Europe. Mrs. Ford Dixon, Mrs. Cross and myself, sat feet up, each with a big seat to ourselves as Irish engine No. 311 battled manfully to beat the land scape. Indeed it was with a pang of reluctance that we changed at Mallow Junction for the silver green diesel on the main Cork-Dublin line. The soulless efficiency of the Dublin flier was pale compensation for our puffing hill billy from Killarney.
Another Change
There was still another change for us at Limerick Junction. Here It turned out, Irish-wise, that the more we travelled toward Limerick, the farther away we got. I was told we were closer at Mallow to Limerick than we were at Limerick Junction. Now here, I. was told, the next train was a bus, and that's the Irish of it. So I hired a taxi. He was Jack Dwyer from Tipperary town, and he had eight children and a duodenal ulcer and times were tough. He put on a sour mouth for 23 miles but his talk was entertaining and he drove swiftly. Proudly he pointed to one place where the British had come out from ambush with their hands up. A grand occasion, he said.
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