The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

Sunday, November 01, 2026

the banners rising



Bright clear October morning.

I am driving across the Curragh of Kildare.

The Curragh is a plain in the heartland of Ireland, I mean a plain in the Irish sense, that is to say there are lots of little hills on it.

Sheep are allowed to roam free here as part of an ancient tradition so you've to be careful as you drive.

It is Halloween.

I negotiate my way past a noisy and demonstrative trick or treating herd of sheep who have chosen to cross the road just as I hove into view.

I get through and top the rise.

Now I encounter a different sort of sheep.

It is my first fright of Halloween.

For spread out on the plain are the massed ranks of leftie demonstrators and useful idiots who call themselves the Ireland Palestinian Solidarity Campaign.

They have a few tent like booths set up on the grass, some flags accusing Israel of genocide, and a flag showing a dove of peace.

A pleasant faced middle aged woman in the black attire known as the burka is waving a large flag of Palestine.

I have not seen the flag of Palestine fluttering over the heartland before and it produces a peculiar sensation in my spirit.

Some children are flying kites.

Massed ranks indeed.

There might be a little over fifty people here but the day is young yet.

The event itself I learn later is styled Kites Not Frights.

I cannot help wondering how this collection of wilful quislings and their children would have fared at the Nova Music Festival in Israel had they been there when the Gazans attacked it, torture murdering anyone they could get their hands on.

I scan the present group and pick out a few hardy looking Muslim men on the approach roads and the periphery who I would guess are the real masters of this shenanigans.

I slow my vehicle.

My mind is sifting through what I have to say.

My little dog Mollie senses something and puts her head on my arm.

It is a most quaint gesture considering I have given her no conscious signal to convey my mood.

"It's okay Mollie," I tell her and we drive on without any detour into public advocacy.