Yerra I feel that it’s high time that I did something dramatic. I’ve been arsing around here in Kilmichael for far too long.
I need to go up a gear, I need a new challenge to put a bit of pep in my step.
It’s all at a very early stage right now, so don’t be broadcasting the story. I’m letting you know, for I feel t’would be bad manners to keep you in the dark.
‘So where is this piece of ground?’ you might be asking, for you can be terrible nosey at times.
Well, as the crow flies, it’s a little north of where I am perched right now. It’s in the direction of Fermoy and that’s about as much as I will say. It’s close to the River Blackwater.
Indeed tis running alongside the Blackwater and a nicer piece of ground it would be hard to find.
If I take the plunge I could well be farming there by the end of the year.
And better again, there is a fine block of a house going along with the farm.
Big? Lord above, tis the biggest of all. There’s a room for every occasion.There’s a room for everything.
There’s room for your coat, a room for your bicycle, a room for anything you damn well please.
You could have your breakfast, dinner and supper in a different room every day for the rest of your life and never go over the same ground twice.
What I’m trying to say is, with regards to splendour ’tis a house fit for a king, or at the very least a Lord.
Yerra I might as well reveal all at this stage, as the actress said to the bishop. Tis Michael Flatley’s farm that I’m eyeing up.
I read all about it in the paper last week, and I have thought of very little since. It’s still up for grabs — and I intend to grab hold of it the way a fellow might grab hold of a wayward bullock.
The only problem I really face with the farm is the price tag. At €20m it’s a bit beyond my price range.
Indeed it’s a lot beyond my price range. But never a man to let finance get in the way of his dreams, I believe I could still secure the farm if I met a right understanding bank manager.
The way I look at it, I don’t think I could ever pay for the farm, like Flatley, by doing a bit of dancing.
I’m alright when it comes to waltzing, and I have been known to shake a leg when Lionel Richie is played, but beyond that, I’m far from accomplished.
So no, I won’t make a fortune from dancing. The money will have to come from farming, there is no other option.
I feel I could make a decent stab at paying for the Flatley farm if I went back to milking cows. Say starting with 20 cows up there by the River Blackwater, there would be no point in going mad entirely, and working up from there.
Possibly hitting 30 cows by the end of the decade. And then paying back a sensible amount twice yearly over a dozen years, you’d be surprised how quickly the millions would dwindle away.
I have big dreams for sure, but I’m going to go for it, just like Flatley himself, by putting my best foot forward.