Reaching for the Kleenex, Blackrock Mayo 1938
I haven't recovered from this story yet. As many of you who know me are aware, I am a great man for showing my emotions, for displaying empathy and believe in the power of true love. Just ask my wife. On second thoughts, don't. She's probably too busy humping sacks of compost around to the back garden before she gets my dinner ready. Anyway, I came across this absolute heartbreaker of a tale, courtesy the Evening Echo of 17th October 1938. I believe the journalist must have been reading the latest Barbara Cartland at the time. Oh my God! The poor pretty wee thing, gazing heartbrokenly (great adverb) across the cruel sea, waiting for her imprisoned lover to break free from his chains. How tear-inducing is that? No wonder she's distracted and forlorn. Oh my God (again)! What if she's still there, still waiting like the French Lieutenant's Woman, humming Bring Back my Bonnie to me ? I couldn't bear it, I had to check. James Joseph Dillon, 25 years of age, k...