Denis Lehane: Murty takes flight
Unable to fly planes any longer due to lockdowns and restrictions, Murty filled his time with me here on the farm castrating bulls and dealing with scouring calves.
I have been asked on numerous occasions whatever became of Murty.
Indeed, a woman in Macroom town only last Friday evening, weighed down with groceries and bold children, stopped me in my tracks to enquire if he had gone back to flying planes.
"Do you miss him terribly?" she asked. Her concern for me, overshadowing all her other woes.
"The truth is, my dear woman," I said clutching her arm. "I do."
"I miss him terribly, for Murty was a great help."
Murty took to farming shortly after Covid touched down.
Unable to fly planes any longer due to lockdowns and restrictions, he filled his time with me here on the farm castrating bulls and dealing with scouring calves.
‘Twas a far cry from his flying days, but similar too, for no occupation is without its fair share of hardship.
Anyhow he worked long days for money that wouldn't take a pilot very far.
But he loved the work and so long as he was able to have a few pints at the end of the week, he didn't give a hoot.
"The farming keeps me grounded," the short-haul pilot said to me one day as he whitewashed a crumbling wall.
Murty eventually became so fond of the farming that when the call came to return to the air, he point blank refused to go.
And it was only after my intervention that he decided to return.
"There's no future for you here," says I to Murty one day as he piked dung into the transport box.
Then I pointed up to the sky and asked: "Wouldn't you much prefer to be up there, rather than down here picking dung?"
"Yerra," says he, "Piloting jet planes isn't all it's cracked up to be.
"It's up and down, down and up.
"Whereas, here on the farm, every day brings a new adventure."
Then I dropped the bombshell that the airline he worked for would shortly be going out of business if pilots of Murty's calibre didn't return.
Of course, ‘twas a tissue of lies I told him, for I don't know the first thing about the aviation business. But Murty was always gullible and I knew the right place for him was up in the air.
"But who will take the sow to the boar, if I'm gone?" he asked.
"Don't be worried about the sow Murty," I stressed. "I'll walk her back the road myself.
"Go find your pilot's cap and get back to where you belong. You leave the sow to me."
And with his cap back on his head, Murty left the farm and returned to the sky.
He is now flying in and out of most airports you care to mention.
Look out for him if you are travelling abroad this summer.
He's a stocky lad who wears his pilot's hat tilted to one side.
He's busier than ever at present for he's now one of the greatest pilots the country has ever seen.
His time spent with me on the farm served him well.
And the few tricks he picked up here dealing with cattle he can put to good use on unruly passengers.
The trouble we had when dealing with a tractor that occasionally stalls, serves him well when an aircraft is misbehaving.
His time on the ground has made him a force to be reckoned with up above.
Bon Voyage Murty.
