THE WEEKEND of the British Open, which is detailed elsewhere in these pages, is a perfect cue for talk of tradition and the past, though the (doubtless) heroics of various slacks-wearing, v-neck sporting super-athletes need not detain us here.

EVENTUALLY you surprise yourself by saying 30 years ago about your own life.

A COUPLE of weeks ago we noticed that there was a very unfortunate metaphor being trotted around by political pundits as Fine Gael was convulsed by a leadership challenge.

THE old cricket verse, At Lord’s, puts it better than we ever could: O my Hornby and my Barlow long ago.

THREE cheers for the man who suggested, long before Cork and Kerry even took the field in the Munster football championship this year, that a ‘Justice for Paul’ campaign be started to save time.

THERE is a seismic shift occurring in the realms of the GAA.

AND SO to Waterford on a sunny weekend. We spent most of Saturday afternoon at a GAA club function in the Crystal City, which was conducted half al fresco and half al taverna, if you’ll forgive the pidgin Italian. The al fresco part was the most enjoyable, given the variety of delights on offer.

NOEL Connors can go back. Maybe not way back, but far enough. He can recall watching the Waterford hurlers in 1998, though that’s a pretty prosaic description to use. Idols would be closer.

ASSUMPTIONS.

THE INK in the obituarists’ pens dried up at about the time Séan Óg O hAilpín encountered Declan Fanning underneath the covered stand in Páirc Uí Chaoimh yesterday.