Doc on 1 - 27dec2024

This is a radio broadcast discussing a documentary called "Last Christmas on Inis Turk" made in 1973. The documentary explores the lives of the families living on the island at that time and their decision to leave. The population of the island had been declining for years, and by 1979, there were no more residents left. Some families hoped to stay, but without proper housing and land, it became increasingly difficult. The documentary highlights the challenges of living on the island, such as the lack of services and the dependence on the mainland for resources. Despite the difficulties, the islanders cherished their way of life and the beauty of the island. Mhara'i! Mhara'i! Good afternoon and welcome to this evening's broadcasting on Connemara Community Radio, the 27th of December, the last Friday of this year, 2024. I hope you're all having a lovely, peaceful and relaxing Christmas and enjoying the weather. We're getting a little bit of sunshine over the days, mixed weather indeed, but very mild for this time of year. This is our documentary hour on Connemara Community Radio. I think we've been going on and off with the documentaries now for over three and a half years. We're coming up on four years in 2025 of the documentaries. And I'd like to bring us back to the first documentary that we aired as part of this series. Indeed, the documentary, I suppose, that is responsible for us moving from a once-off documentary here to a series, because this documentary comes from the island of Inis Turk South. It's a documentary that I found at the time in the RTE archive. We asked RTE for permission to rebroadcast and they very generously gave us that. And indeed, that led to us getting permission to broadcast any documentaries from their own archive. And we also go to other radio stations up and down the country and indeed abroad and bring you programmes that they are happy to share with us. And we share our own programmes, of course, with other stations, as is the ethos of community broadcasting. But this documentary is entitled Last Christmas on Inis Turk. It was made on Inis Turk South in the year 1973. This time of year, Christmastime, was probably made a week or two before Christmas. Princess O'Conlon, one of the most famous, I suppose, documentary makers and researchers with RTE for a long, long period of over 50 years. He was a Tyrone man, Princess O'Conlon. He worked with RTE. He was a civil servant originally. Then he moved to radio broadcasting and he worked with RTE. And he had a very, very special interest in our heritage, in the music, in country life. He was a Tyrone man himself, came from a country area. And he had a very special nature, loved to travel, loved to travel up and down the west of Ireland, travelled to most of the offshore islands, made this documentary that you'll hear now and several others. He was on Inis Siarc as well, just before Inis Siarc was evacuated. I think that was in the year 1961. So we have even older programmes of Princesses in the archive and hopefully we'll bring you those again soon. But this one he made in 1973 when he travelled to Clifton and then out, what we call the Sky Road now, out as far as Eyre Fort. And then he was taken by Coruch out to Inis Siarc south and he spent a few days on the island. And he also spent a few days on the mainland and visited a few islanders who, at that point, were living on the mainland. On the island he met the families that were there at that time, the Barks, the Wallases and the Hannans, and spoke to many of them. The documentary is called Last Christmas on Inis Siarc because at that point most of the families, not all of them, but most of them considered that it would be their last Christmas on the island. They were making their plans to leave. One or two families still hoped to remain on the island, at least until they could be sure that they would have proper housing and proper holdings of land if they were to move to the mainland at that point in time. The Land Commission was still working away but hadn't secured housing and land for all the families on the island. There were eight school children in the school at the time. The school teacher was coming in and out, coming in on a Monday and out again on a Friday. That was a difficult life for the school children and for the teacher themselves. There were no other services on the island. There was no priest, no mass, no doctor, no nurse. So for everything else they were dependent on moving in and out to the mainland. There was no turf on the island, no coal of course, no gas. Everything had to come in for heating and for light into the island as well. So we can hardly imagine how challenging the life was at the time on the island. But as you hear from the islanders themselves, the land on the island was very good, the fishing, the wildlife on the island was beautiful, there was a beautiful way of life on the island and many of them indeed considered that apart from the transport issues that they had a very good lifestyle on the island and would have loved to remain on the island. But it got more and more difficult as the years went by. The population of Inishturk at that time, 1973, was down to just three or four families. But when we look at the original population going back to the 1800s of Inishturk South and its next or neighbour island, Inishtur, but just to the south of it, we can see there were huge populations on those islands. In 1861 there was 128 people living on Inishturk South and there were even more than that, 191, almost 200 people living on Inishturbut. And from then on the population goes into decline and if you look at the census then pretty much every 10 years after that there was a fall of 20 to 30 people. So by 1973, well by 1926 the first census of the state of Ireland, what was called the Free State then, the independent Ireland, in 1926 Inishturk South was down to 90 people and Inishturbut was down to 108. And you'll hear on this documentary that even at that time, according to one man, Martin Barker, who was 87 years old when the programme was made, even back in 1924 there were definitely discussions about evacuating the island. But that didn't happen, the islanders didn't want to go. And the populations were strong, very strong by today's standards. But by 1973 those populations have gone down to just 35 on Inishturk South, as I said with 8 school children and a little few more on Inishturbut at that point, about 65. But sadly then that's when the evacuations in the 1970s take place and by 1979 there's no one left on Inishturk South and there are only 7 left on Inishturbut and by 1986 there's no one left on Inishturbut. So those are our South Sea Islands, as some people call them, in the area here locally along with Ome Island, which was a tidal island. Ome also had those large populations, well over 100 people back in the 1800s, but again today no permanent population on Ome Island. But let's go back now to 1973 and let's hear the voices of the Borks, the Wallases and the Hannans as they talk to Princess O'Condal in what for many, if not most of them, was to be their last Christmas on Inishturk. Here bow and blow, here bow and blow, Lean your head over and hear the wind blow. On wings of the wind, o'er the dark rolling sea, Angels are coming to watch over thee. Angels are coming to watch over thee, So listen to the wind coming over the sea. There we have just over half of the school-going population of the island of Inishturk South off the coast of Galway and if we include three non-singers, the full school roster of eight now represents more than one third of the total island population. With the exception of one pupil, those eight are also of one family, the Borks, who intend to remain on the island, even though most of their neighbours have now left or are on the point of leaving. Among those who have already spent their last Christmas day on Inishturk is Patrick Wallace, who will soon be joining other members of his family on the mainland. We expect to be leaving now very shortly after Christmas. So this will be your last Christmas on Inishturk? We expect this will be our last Christmas. But how do you feel about leaving it? I don't mind the latest. I'm delighted in leaving. Even though I haven't anything again now, I will never start anything, either money or anything in the way that will be of use. Still, I don't care about it. The two families who have decided not to join the exodus from Inishturk have their own reasons for staying. First, Joe Bork and his wife, Celia. Well, I can't afford to pay for a house to get out of it, you know. We'll have to wait through the Land Commission to do something for us to take it out of it. Well, is that the only reason? Oh, that's the only reason I'd want to stay in it. I don't mind leaving it at all. And do you feel the same, Joe? Would you like to stay? Well, I'd like to go, but I'd like land, you know. I have a big family to raise, and I'd like a lot of milk I'd want to buy. And I want spuds, and I want... And you haven't got any land at all? Or you wouldn't have any land on the mainland? Well, I suppose I wouldn't have any. We'll either sell you a house, and that would be no good to me. So you intend to stay? That's what I have to stay on, I suppose. Well, you have a big family, and they're all around us here, except one, I think, Mrs. Bork. That's right. That's nine, is it? There's eight here, and there's one at the gate. Ranging from what age? From twelve to six weeks. And Tom here on your left is the youngest, six weeks? No, the youngest isn't. Oh, the youngest is. We haven't them all. Tom is two years, two timbers. Well, is it hard to raise a family on the island? Well, the school is the biggest problem in this, you know. And going in, the teacher, especially this time of year, it's very hard on him... Don't touch. It's very hard on him to get down the boat on his own, you know, to go all to the beach to take her in. And then the other family leave her out on Friday, Matt and Hannon. But it's very hard on the teacher and on the scholars as well. And your family is the only one, in fact... They're the only one, yes, except apart from another child. The one schoolgoer who is not a Bork belongs to the Hannon family, who also intend to remain on the island. Talking to Mrs. Hannon in the comfort of her home with modern gas facilities for lighting, cooking, heating and so on, one can appreciate her reasons for not rushing to leave it. Because I like the island, and I'd like to live on the island. And is there a good life to be had on the island these days? Yes, there is a good life on the island. If you are fit to work on the island, and fit to fish, and fit to do everything, there's a good life. And is there a life for young people on it? Well, it's kind of hard on young people, you know. There isn't much, like, subtle life for them, like, in the way of going in and going out, like. Young people are different to old people. They couldn't go to a dance, or they couldn't much go in any place, especially in wintertime. But now that most of the families have, in fact, left, and more are leaving, you know, how is it going to work out after that for the young people who are left? Well, I don't know. That's up to themselves. Life is as you make it. How have you found the island yourself now? You were born here, were you? Yes, I was born here. And you're married and settled down here? Yes. And how many of the family have you? Eight. And how many of them are at home? I have six living and two dead. And how many of them are on Shack at the moment, or in East Turk at the moment? Five, and one getting married away. Well, do the young people not feel that they want to get out to dances and all that sort of thing on the mainland? Well, I don't know. I don't know what's in their minds. Do they feel happy enough at the moment? They do, they feel happy enough. Most of the older people have, for various reasons, already gone from East Turk. Eighty-seven-year-old Martin Burke and his wife have settled for some time in Erislanan in the peninsula west of Clifton. And Martin recalls that even fifty years ago, the Land Commission were thinking of evacuation. All the land was divided to patch here, and this side of this house here, and half this area to somewhere else, and twice this area in the background, and so on, and patch it here and there. In 1924, it was striped by the Land Commission and boxed away. And that was... Of course, when the Land Commission wanted to strike that place, no doubt the engineer that was on that thing, when he saw the island, he wanted us all to leave the island. That was in 1924? That was in 1924, yes. He wanted us all to leave the island, and that he'd get the place and take us all out, and we'd see him there through the country. He would do that. We weren't sure. We thought that time, we thought the place was all right. But he was much... But you didn't go anyhow? Oh, we didn't. But why did you leave it yourself in the end? That's the thing. I'll tell you what happened. I was getting too old. I was 69 when I left it. And I was getting too old for the Mass. To go to Mass is an hour's walk, all right, since you land on Aylford. You know Aylford, don't you? You go to the Stouffvilles, where they have Mass Day in Kingston. And that was too long for me. I wanted to go. I wanted... I left it for the sake of it. I'm going to Mass. I think that's one of the reasons that people do leave islands, that there's no church or doctor or priest. That sort of thing, isn't it? It is. No doubt. You're right there. And you would agree with that, Mrs. Bourke? That would be the same reason you would have for leaving? That's the truth. It was. And I didn't like the Cork. I was afraid of the sea. I'd go into the Cork, but I'd surely fall in the tide. You were really afraid of it? I was afraid of the sea. Even though you were born on the island? I was nearly born on the sea, don't mind that. Well, that's the truth. But you didn't like the Cork? I didn't like the Cork. And I didn't like to see my men or my boys go in danger fishing. That's telling you the honest truth. So my son, he bought this place after coming home from England, and he brought us out of the island. Another man who left in his turk as he got on in years was Tom Wallace, now settled with his wife in a mobile home in Clegane. I came over here to Clegane to be near the doctor. That's going in every month to Buckman. He had a dispensary in there every Thursday. Every Thursday. The first Thursday of every month. So you've got to be near where the doctor is rather than have him going in to the island? I would. He'd rather see me out too than see me on the island. Well, that's one of the problems, I think, about island life, that people don't have a resident doctor. If you're not feeling too well, it's a bit much to bring the doctor out, isn't it? It's a lot of trouble to bring him out, I know, and it's hard. It's hard for you not to go find him, do you know? It's harder. Well, why do people leave the island generally? Why now would you say most of the people are leaving? I don't know. I don't know. One follows the other. One family follows another family. That's the way they leave it. But it's a nice island to live on, surely, and the land is fairly good and it's not hard to get in and out. Is it the young people don't like the journey to the mainland? The young people don't like the journey at all. They don't like the journey at all. And still they are out. Every night at 50 they try to leave the island. They try to leave the island. They will. And it's not often cut off either, is it? You wouldn't be cut off by storms or that sort of thing very much. A few times, a few times. Not for very long? Not so long, not so long. What is the longest now you ever remember yourself? I was only one night. I remember one night that's all I was cut off. Well, were you sorry to leave yourself? Well, you know, sometimes I feel that way, sometimes. Are you sentimental about the island? Would you like to go back again? I wouldn't, I wouldn't go back, no. None of those who have left Inis Turk seems to have any regrets about it, but naturally the more who leave, the more difficult it is for those who stay, and the more the trend towards complete evacuation builds up. Patrick Wallace. It's a lonesome place now. It's very lonely now, isn't it? When you get down to five or six families. And there aren't even five or six families now. There's only two left now, that's all. And you would say that's the main reason, the loneliness, that people leave. Ah, well, you'd like company. Nice thing to ride out at night. You go on the mainland, after eating your supper at night, and you get to happen to nice thing to walk out, and walk out on the main road, and walk down to a pub, and have a drink, and a game of cards, and enjoy yourself, and go to a dance. But I wouldn't go to a dance. Never would I have to go to a dance. If I was on an island, I wouldn't go. But there's no life like that now on the island at all? Oh, there was, I heard, there was years, 20 or 40, about 20 or 30 or 40 years ago, they said there was not too much dancing on house to house around here. It was a couple of weeks before Christmas that we visited Inis Turk ourselves. It's not a difficult island to get to in normal weather conditions, and indeed some of the worst hazards are of the land and not of the sea. From Clifton you head out the Sky Road towards Valley Cunrie, and if you can manage to negotiate the potholes in what must be one of the vilest pieces of road in the country near a place called Erfurt, which I can assure you has nothing to do with an air terminal, you'll find yourself on a beautiful strand, completely deserted at this time of year, but altogether different in summer. There, right on the water's edge, you wait for a receding wave, and with luck, you're in Martin Wallace's Corrug with Frances Walsh, and in no time at all, on your way to Inis Turk. The Corrug has an outboard motor fitted, so with little more than a cursory view of Omi Island to the north and Turbot to the south, you're already looking at the rocky coast and high central ridge of Turk, with the houses clustered near the tiny pier and the Corrug crested strand. Many people might think that an island like this, so close to the coast of Connemara, should still have some Irish spoken on it, but such is not the case. Even the older people do not remember Irish being spoken. No. No, I don't remember any Irish at all, I'm sorry. Or Turbot. There's no Irish there. There was Irish in Turbot, but I didn't, I had no instinct in it, I didn't know what it was. I didn't sadly know what Irish was. Padraig Ó Fáirde, an agricultural instructor who knows the islands well, attributes the early lots of Irish on Turk to its close associations with Clifton. The main thing that I can say about that island is that it has a very good relationship with the people, with the traders and with the merchants in the old town. Because there are people who live in Clifton at the moment, on the island, and there are a lot of merchants, and there are a lot of Irish people in this town. And the same relationship with the people was there in Turk. And it's my own belief that the people of Clifton, had a good relationship with the Irish people on that island at that time. Padraig Ó Fáirde is a Turkish person, compared to the other islands of the coast, such as Arn, which is a big island, and Siobhán, which is a small island, and Bosinne. There are things in common with all the other islands. But there are things in common with the Turkish people. I don't have anything in common, and I don't think there is, but I do believe that there was a relationship, that there was a good relationship between the people of the island and the merchants who lived on that island. Seals, for example, as Padraig Wallace told us. Is any effort made to catch them at all, or make any use of them? Well, it's very easy to catch them. Nylon is. Nylon is made for you to catch lots of them. You catch one or two at a time anyway. That would be as much though, because they'd have the tide made before you'd have had them captured and brought to the boat again. They used to make use of the oil from the seals, didn't they? They used to. That's years ago. Now I don't remember, but I heard them talking about it. They used to kill them and bring them, even into this island, all the old people, kill them and take out the liver out of them. I think, I don't know whether it's a... How they would boil them or fat, but they would take the oil out of the liver, and they would melt it and take the oil out of it, and they used that, and they would just harden it up and use it and put wick in it, put two or three wicks into it, like a round tin, and hold it full of the wick, put wick into it, put the light in it, and it would light like panicking. Sure, light as good as this. The light's going to help us to be slow, you know. Does the Baskin shark come in here at all? By the scores. By the scores. We caught even one of them in here last year. The year before last year now. Back on Christmas Day. He got tangled up in the salmonnets. There were two or three salmonnets over there, all from the point of transportation there, and when we went over, he had the salmonnets broken and he got tangled up in it. We towed him back at the tail back here. He was about 16 feet long. Oh, his body was... He had an awful, awful big body. We towed him, and I'm sure it was half a ton weight. Is that so? Well, he wouldn't do your nets any good. He wouldn't do your nets any good. He had him towed, all right. I pushed it into a deep place, because otherwise, that's how the damage would end up. We mended him up again and got him going. Mended him up again afterwards. What about the porpoises, then? Do you ever come across them? The modern porpoises, every day. Even yesterday. I saw them yesterday, over on the beaches there now. They're a very playful fellow, aren't they? Very playful. Very playful. You'd love to be on the boat looking at them. We do enjoy to see them come along and jump on each side of us. We do even have the gaff. Hitting them with the gaff, and they'll just jump on it again. They enjoy that fun. Very playful. Patrick Wallace was our own guide to Turk during our visit, and he started where every visitor makes his acquaintance with an island, with the pier and landing facilities. There is no pier, but a bad pier. Very bad pier. Is it not deep enough? It's not. It's only just a small cut-off. That's our cut-off. That's all. No harbour for a big boat over there. On either side? On either island, there's no harbour for a big boat. Or on the mainland? Once you go on the mainland, you get harbour. But where you go in there on the mainland, there's not a... No harbour. No harbour. Only just for a cut-off. That's all. For a cut-off. Because they are handy for carrying. You put them in your bag too, and they'll carry them up and down. Is that one of the great disadvantages of an island, that you have so much stuff to bring in and not much means of transporting it? It's a lot. It's the most of it. And especially now, when you get a bigger boat in here, you anchor it over here, and anchor it over here. If you get a bad night, you can't sleep on your bed. Your knees will get broken, and you'll get broken. You might have to rise during the night and go board. And put in all night a board over, and get a steam. And in general, you should keep it up there in case it breaks or anchors, or ropes or chains. Have any boats been broken like that? No, I didn't see any boats getting broken, because they are too careful. You've got to be careful. You've got to be careful. That's what we depend on, and we have to try and save them. Do you have many storms at all during the winter? Well, we had none. Although this winter has gone, there's no storm. Although it's gone, it is a very fine winter. Do you remember any big storms yourself? I remember one here. Now, I don't know how many years ago it will be or not. Debbie, we called it. Hurricane. The hurricane. That was a bad one. It was in September. We never left Islamic here all around the country. We even had some of them around here. If there was a boat on anchor over there, she wouldn't stand. About five minutes ago, she was gone. Did you ever have a hurricane that destroyed wells or affected the drinking water or anything like that? Where the sea spray would come into the wells or that sort of thing? Well, the spring well we have over here now, when it's southeasterly again, the water will spray into it. It doesn't take any effect of it, because it's running strong. Well, water tanks now, they're built out of houses here. You can't use them after westerly gills. It's real salt water. You have to drain them all out again. Well, you have a good water supply, have you? The fresh water is all right. The well? The spring well never dried water for three years. Without ever making it into the air, it never dried. Never. What about turbot, then? Do they have problems like that? Turbot has no wells. How do they manage? They come across here and draw the water from here and draw it from the mainland. And they dry some of it. Isn't that an awful lot of hard work? It's a lot of water. But what about the land here, Patrick? What's the land like? It's good land. It's a bit of land. It's a bit of land. And how much would each man have, or each family? Well, they had about... about from ten to twelve acres now. Six to twelve acres each. Is that the arable land? Would it all be arable? It's all arable land. Now you see it out there. It's all arable land. It's the best of land. Any crops that are going to be able to produce, it's the best of crops. And what are the crops mainly? Spuds. Spuds. Especially in here, you know. Here, spuds. And would each family then have a cow, or...? They keep two cows and two calves. Keep two cows and two calves. What about horses? No horses. No horses on the island? No horses. Any tractors? No. No tractors, no motorcycles, no bicycles. No roads, but bad roads. Well, you don't have any problems there. Oh, no. Fuel and anything. No, no, no. That's something else. The absence of roads or of any form of transport other than donkey might be seen by some city people these days as a positive advantage for Turk. But if, for example, you've got to cut and dry on the mainland every sort of turf you burn and then transport it, first by lorry or tractor and then by cork across a mile of sea, things take on a less romantic aspect. As Mrs. Jo Burke told us... Oh, well, I suppose getting supplies in and getting in the turf in and the coal in, everything is hard on it, you know. They have to go so many miles for it to cut the turf and to pay a tractor to bring it on the beach out there, put it into the cork and take it out and dry it up for you. It's all hardship. Where does it cut? How many miles? About six. The turf, the mountain, about eight miles, sir. About eight miles. And you work on the turf? We do, we do, we do. Was there ever any turf on the island itself? There was. There was in times. You don't remember it? No, I don't remember, sir. There's still turf on Corbett, isn't there? There's still turf on the next island. And they cut it themselves? They cut it themselves, some of them. Some of them, but it's mostly run out. But you were saying then, Mrs. Burke, that it's very hard to get supplies in. How will you manage now around Christmas? I don't know, really. I'll have to go into town and... That's Clifton? That's Clifton. That's five or six miles. From the pier or from here? Well, it's six miles from here. And if the weather would be bad, I won't be able to go because I've got the little baby. I'd be afraid I'd be kept out overnight, you know. I wouldn't like to leave him here with those. But even when you get to Clifton... When I get to Clifton, well, you have to buy, buy, buy all the time, you know. You'd be afraid the weather would get bad and you'd run short of supplies again. And you've got to get it into the island. I've got to get it in. How do you manage there? I have to bring it back by car there on average. You have to hire a car? To hire a car, yes. And is it easy or hard to get a car? Well, it's very hard to get a car sometimes. And the road is that bad from the crossroad here to where I come out here. They won't come back there. Sometimes you might have to get out and walk it back. And carry whatever luggage you've got? Yes, or else go down on the other. That's inconvenient to us. It's a terrible road out there. Bad roads, but good land. However, it's on the sea that the islanders have depended mostly for their livelihood in the past. Patrick Wallace again. Well, our whole living is on fishing. We do start on the 1st of May, we do start lobster fishing. If the weather stays fine, we stay fishing until September and October. Crayfish and lobsters. For a few weeks in the summer, then in the month of June and July, we have about 6 weeks of salmon fishing. And it fails us to share. That's all. Days we were getting no work. The most salmon we were getting was 6 or 7 in the summer months. We don't know what was the cause. Well, if the salmon fishing is bad, you don't have much of an income next year. Is that the way of it? Well, we had no income. The crayfish and the lobsters, the shells were hopeless. They had to be put ashore several times. And there was scarcity of fish. And they would put the mosaic in. That was a pity there was, yes, because the price was big. So it's going from £1 to £1.2 now, with the last 7 or 8 weeks past. Who takes the fish from you? Mosey is here in Clegane. That's the Mosey. He's a fish buyer. And you bring them from here to Clegane? Yes. Well, they set them down there in Carmel Castle. They do collect fish too. What sort of boats have you for fishing then? All canoes. We have two boats. One of them is a 37 foot one and the other is a 27 foot. The other has another one. With the outboard motor? Yes, motor inside. I see. But then you have corrupts with motor. Yes, all the other houses in that smaller boat is corrupt. And are they satisfactory for that sort of thing? Well, they are not. They are not satisfactory. They are too small. They are too small. But still, she's a good boatwoman though. She's a great little boatwoman. Well, I suppose even people who have left the island will still continue fishing, will they? Certainly will. And what about the land when the people leave then? Will they hold on to the land, do you think? We intend to hold on to the land. And come out in the summer then? Well, we could put cattle back here in summer. If we'll be able to put them in, if we'll be able to buy them. Keep them there until October again. Sell them then if we had any to sell. And what sort of land will you get on the mainland? We haven't decided yet for all that's around the house. Only the side of the house. That's all? That's all. If the Land Commission don't provide us with any 2 acres yet, I don't know. The Land Commission providing the houses? There. But you couldn't live without some bit of land, I'd imagine. You'd need some bit of land, wouldn't you, as well? Oh, you could live without. On the fishing? You could. You could live without one side of land. But would you prefer to have a bit of land yourself on the mainland? I wouldn't care, no, if there wasn't one side of land. You don't want to see it at all? I don't want to see the house, no. One young man who is not particularly worried about land either is John Hannon, and he intends staying on the island. I think I will. If you happen to stay, I'll stay. But what sort of a livelihood can you get on the island? I think I'll be sliding somewhere soon now. It's one of the things I want to do. You work at the fishing area? Yes, I do. Does that keep you busy all the time in the summer? Yes. From April up to September. What do you do in the winter, then? Oh, right. Well, you pick the winkles and get out the sea rods, these days. Is there much of that done? There isn't much we've done over the last couple of years. There's only two there in the last year, two families. And how do you dispose of those, the winkles and the sea rods? How do you sell them? Oh, we bring them out to the mailers by boat, so we sell them straight away out there in Kingstown. The Hannons are a reasonably large family, so they are less likely than most to be lonely on the island. Apart from that, one of them provides his own entertainment. However, he will not in the future have the audiences recalled by Mrs. Hannon. I remember this. There used to be dancers in the house, and dancing. Were there many musicians and singers on Turk? There was, a lot of them. And you still have some in this house, I think. Yes, I have. They play the odd tune? Yes. Who plays the box? Patrick. Patrick, there. Would you ever give us an old tune, Patrick? And what about the rest of them, any of them play or sing or do anything? No, the rest can't, only him, Patrick. They had nothing but accordions then. Everyone would get into one house and have a nice keel for the night. They'd have accordions. There were good accordion players in the Turk, that's what I remember. Fiddlers and all of this. There were. There were almost plenty of musicians and singers in the Turk. There were, there were. Very good, nice singers, Shirley and David. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was. There was.