Celt, I am deeply grateful for your post because even in time of bereavement, you thought of us. There is much to convey in return for the great respect and goodwill shown over the friendships made here.



This is how I will always remember Poppie. For those who have not had the opportunity to meet her, Po is exactly as you see in the photo whenever we met. Happy. And, the two of us were, in Po’s words, “mad as a box of frogs” whenever and wherever we were together.

Poppie and I arranged to meet in person for the very first time at Liverpool Street Station when she travelled to London from Belfast for an interview at the university she was to attend. The immediate aftermath of the interview called for a pint of Guinness with others who had similar results. When she finally made it to LSS, we celebrated in what was drab in comparison because we had tricolore salad instead before she boarded the train which took her to the airport and headed off to Belfast.

A few months thereafter, Poppie returned to London to start her course and settled into student’s accommodation. Our long conversations on the phone from Belfast to London and vice versa, was now replaced by East London to Greenwich, and vice versa. The duration of our evening phone calls depended entirely on the battery life of Poppie’s mobile phone. Simply put, it finished when it ran low bat. We talked at great length over serious matters as well as those which are worldly. Nothing under the sun was barred. A reflection perhaps of the sense of comfort we both found within a friendship nurtured. We shared the same sense of humour being that we were both Monty Python fans, a tad with music taste and discovered that we were similar in many ways with past concocted mischief as cradle Catholic schoolgirls educated by Irish nuns. “Aye, a chara. Mad as a box of frogs were we.” Po would say with a laugh. We’d disagree, too. A few of those which were of a superficial note was that I was not too crazy over Mary Coughlan and she was not over Tina Turner. While I am not averse to a Big Mac, Po detested them and moaned and whinged for Ireland against MacD. We’d overdose on caffeine instead. And over the course of many cups of coffee, by a vote of an overwhelming majority of two, we had approved of red Converse and settled global ills. Then we'd make our way to the tube station on cold winter days with her bare hand tucked under my armpit for warmth. We always giggled that she always seem to misplace a glove whenever we met. As London had become Poppie’s second home because of uni, the opportunity to meet on a few more occasions presented itself. Po and I attended Mass, as well as visited Westminster Cathedral together. In 2008, we had the pleasure of visiting the Cathedral with Anno and Dennis.

As Anno stated, Poppie had a big heart. But, more importantly, when people come and go, only a few leave footprints in the heart. Poppie did. I will always miss Po. But in her own words, she now sleeps soft.

Celt, in the way I nurtured my friendship with Po, I continue to nurture yours and carry you and Lucien in thoughts and prayers, as I do Bert and all those Poppie held close to her heart. But most importantly Celt, I would wish the sadness away if I could.