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You take the high road, I take the low road

A Breaffy Man in Castlebar
edwin-mcgreal_full_290
You take the high road, I take the low road



Edwin McGreal

I still get nervous making the two mile trip into town. Reared in Breaffy I was always confident enough making the trip to the school, the church and over to the pitch.
Sure it is only walking distance, even if I always take the car.
But going into town fills me with dread. There’s just so much potential for disaster for a country guy like me.
Do I go in the High Road or the Low Road? Well it used to always be the High Road until they stuck a roundabout in the middle of it that is about as useful as the lights in McHale Park at the minute.
I know a fella who drove straight into it not long after the roundabout was built. ‘Sure no one told me it was there man’, was his explanation. No one told me either and I was lucky to avoid smashing into it too.
So it’s the Low Road anymore for this Breaffy man. Which is grand until you hit Mulroy’s roundabout.
The local councillors are trying to rename the roundabouts in the town at the minute. Well they could do worse than call this Spaghetti junction. One week they expect you to be in the left lane for going straight on, the next week you’ve to be in the right lane.
I’ve managed to avoid any crashes there but I reckon I could have a deafness claim for the amount of times I’ve been blown off the road. Do I sue the drivers or the council? Or just buy a good set of earmuffs?
And that’s only the beginning of the fun. Show me any man or woman who isn’t frustrated by the mini-roundabout at the old ESB office and I’ll show you a liar.
And as for that hill coming up by the old Sunflower from Market Square - anyone who can balance their car on that hill without rolling backwards should get a medal.
I wouldn’t go into town at all if I could help it. But despite me asking him several times Kevin Curry won’t stock the Goodfellas Spicy Chicken pizza in his shop in Breaffy.
He doesn’t want the Breaffy Junior B goalkeeper eating anything but salads. I’ve tried to tell him that the diet is the least of my worries but to no avail.
So to town I must go but I’ve think I’ve come up with a solution. Anymore if I’m going to town I’ll park the car at Tom Rice’s and walk.
Problem is it’s a nice oul trip from Seán Mulroy’s for the pizza all the way to Aldi for the cheap drink. And its no fun lugging that all the way back out to Rice’s.
Half the day is gone by the time I make it back to the safety of Breaffy.