Bridge kennedy was the owner of the most remarkable dwelling house in the area.It was known as ‘The Coffin house and shop’
What can be said about this remarkable dwelling house, shop and its wonderful inhabitants? It was a fairy tale thatched cottage that captured all children’s imagination. John and Eileen Veale lived in the coffin-shaped house with their two sons Jack and Mike. Eileen’s mother Bridgie Kennedy first occupied the dwelling. No one ever offered an explanation as to why the dwelling was shaped in such a manner. The outhouse was also shaped in this fashion. The ground area that it was constructed within was of such a small and unusual shape that perhaps this was the only way that it could have been built. Whatever the reason for its shape it held great fascination for us all. A whitewashed wall fronted it and a great Palm tree stood to the left of it, this tree was a great joy for us because it was so easy to climb. The tree continues to stand on the spot, but the dwelling is no longer there! It was here that we purchase three sweets for a penny. The usual household items were also available, candles, bread etc. It was easy to get to the coffin-house; we would go in through the gates that led to the Landers dwelling house, past the house, and follow the path that had evolved over the years by constant use through Johnny Landers field. Such were the times. Johnny or Mary Landers never objected to this invasion of privacy, or indeed of making a public thoroughfare their land.
Eileen Veale was ever known as Eileen Kennedy, she was a woman of extraordinary patience, never a cross word. Her husband John was known as, “The long puck-out”As we got older, we would go up there during the winter nights to play cards. The small open fire would be blazing; the big silver “Tilly lamp” that stood on the windowsill would be turned up, casting shadows around the room. The radio that was operated by wet battery would be turned down and we would all sit down to play forty-five. Most times John Veale would sit by the fire with the radio turned down low and engage in conversation with Mike Moore while fists rattled on the table. After a few rubbers, Mrs Veale would prepare the Tea and the cards would have to stop as she set the table, cups and saucers and side plates would be put out and cake cut. When this was wolfed down, gambling for a few coppers would resume. Sometime, if we were short a player, John would be asked to sit in. “Ach, Go away with yer selves” he would say, “Sure what do any of ye know about cards?” “C’mon Dad” son Mike would say, “sure can’t you make up the six?” John would reluctantly take his place at the table. There was no time for fooling during those rare occasions; any mistake would be severely criticised by him. Any time that he would be dealt a five or a knave, he would send it crashing to the table with such force, he would make us jump. This practice of slamming a strong trump card on the table to win a “trick” during the playing of “Rubbers” was a regular occurrence; indeed, the more knuckle cracking impact between bone and wood, the greater the game. Often a player who held the winning card would stand up to make a more powerful delivery. Not all households tolerated this practice because of the noise, but it was however the norm. It was at the Coffin-house we all gathered to listen to the now famous all-Ireland final of September 1959, when Waterford and Kilkenny drew in the senior hurling. We were there again for the replay on October fourth when the Blues finally crushed the Cats. Several people were crowded into the house and more listening outside. This was a memorable occasion. That night, a bonfire was lit at Ballinroad Cross. Different times...better times!
