Keane’s, Maam, Galway. Pub No 4

I used the fact that my daughter was in the Connemara Gaeltacht as an excuse to head west and tick another pub off the list. Yeah, probably a bit of a cheap trick, but I was looking forward to seeing her, and checking she was being adequately fed! It’s called time management, OK?

The morning is warm and bright, but by the time Yvonne and I have chatted and lunched, and had several cups of coffee, the sky has darkened, the clouds have moved in overhead and a dense mist has descended on the valley. We are dressed for a walk but frankly, I’m delighted the weather has taken a turn for the worst. Any excuse to avoid excercise! I’m tired after a few restless nights, and very little sleep. A few pints in a snug, good conversation or even the weekend newspapers and the odd packet of crisps, all sound perfect to me.

Inevitably, the sun breaks through the clouds as we drive towards the pub, so I stifle a moan, we park up the car and take a brisk stroll across the stunning scenery. It takes us a while to find the path but when we do, it quickly becomes calm and peaceful, as we literally walk between mountain ranges and feel the affect of the sheltered climate as the heat rises.

An hour and half later, and we head into Keane’s, our ultimate destination for the afternoon. It’s almost five and there’s a fair crowd of locals gathered at the bar. All men, unsurprisingly. I get chatting to a man sitting at the end of the bar. He was a bar man here for 25 years, but now only sits on ‘the expensive side’. He comes in regularly he tells me, enjoying the chat and always knowing someone to talk with. The conversation is mostly conducted in Irish, and even when some of them switch to English for our (my) benefit, Yvonne has to translate, the accent is so strong. We talk to one guy whose streaky face and grimy t shirt indicate he’s had a hard day on the land. He tells us about sheep and cattle and EU subsidies, but the images in my head are unsettling and hard to shift. I can’t work out whether I’m amused or concerned for the local wildlife. It’s kind of hard to do both!

It’s too nice to sit inside, so we take our pints to the seats outside, overlooking the Corrib River. The midges are a pain and my ankles are already bitten and itchy, but the view is worth it. Just as we take our first sip from our cool, golden pints, and take a deep breath to take in the scenery and the scent of real fresh air, a car screams over the bridge and screeches to a halt in the space directly before our table. We gesture to the driver to move; he’s blocking our view! Unexpectedly, he reverses out of the space and moves the car further over, where it can’t block our vista. The driver steps out, and we wave him over. It’s Sean, just arrived from Lucan, having got here in about 55 minutes – max!

A round of drinks is quickly acquired and we are just clinking cheers when one of the staff joins us. He is actually retired from working behind the bar, having completed a fifty year stint, but he comes back occasionally when they are short staffed. He has plenty of stories about the pub and doesn’t hesitate to share them with us. Over the next hours or so, we get to hear about how the house was built in 1888, originally the residence of a sottish landlord but becoming a family home and subsequently one of the oldest licenced premises in Ireland. We hear about local employment and building schedules; innovations in deterring mosquitoes, and fundraising events in the local school; river routes and recent weddings. He tells us about his own childhood and extended family; shares stories from behind the bar and recounts all the famous people who’ve supped here. In short, we sit looking at now empty glasses while he regales us with stories of his life and the locality, never pausing for breath or to engage us in conversation, apart from walking over to the river with Sean to point out some nearby developments, and taking long enough for Yvonne and I to roll our eyes and giggle, before putting our serious but interested faces back on.

Between the midges and the company, we don’t stay too long at Keane’s which is a pity, because it’s a beautiful building in an amazing setting, and I reckon we could have had a good laugh with the locals (plus translator!).