The mouths of babes...

On the last day of August, the day after Seamus Heaney died, I was at hurling training.

There were 100 people there, from five-year-olds to teenagers, and parents and mentors. Nobody mentioned Heaney’s name. There was talk of the club lotto, All-Ireland hurling tickets, the weather, attire; a seven-year-old wanted to know when the emigrant free-taker was returning. Patrick Kavanagh wrote: “Gods make their own importance.”

Joseph Mackey