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7 1 13 20110224 13 KILDARE TOWN, CURRAGH RACE WEEK, C.1770: ‘When we got to the cabin we roused the peo- ple, and by a handsome reward, procured a man to conduct us to Kildare, … and we reached the town at about three in the morn- ing. As it was so late, nobody was up in the town but some bucks, some gentlemen gam- blers, who were fleecing each other. Not a bed to be got, all the taverns full, and every private house engaged. … … Our gentleman had been searching the town over for beds, but not one could be got. How- ever, Farrell the piper, who they found playing in one of the taverns, had given them the key of his lodgings, which he offered for our accept- ance. We hastened to it; but of all the wretched habitations that I had ever seen, this was by far the worst. The curtains were of ten different colours, and the bed most miserable. However, necessity urged, and we lay down in our cloaths for about three hours, and then got our breakfasts from the tavern.’ Memoirs of Mrs. Margaret Leeson, written by her- self … vols. I and II (Dublin, 1795), vol. III (Dublin, 1797). Edited with an introduction and notes by Mary Lyons as The memoirs of Mrs. Lee- son, Madam, 1727–1797 (Dublin, 1995), p. 52. BALLINASLOE, CO. GALWAY, 6 OCTOBER 1792: ‘…victuals bad, wine poisonous, bed execrable – generally badly off. Fall asleep in spite of ten thousand noises – wish the Gentlemen over my head would leave off the Bagpipes, and the Gentlemen who are drinking in the next room would leave off singing, and the two Gentle- men who are in bed together in the closet would leave off snoring. Sad! sad! All quiet at last, and be hanged!’ 7 October: ‘… dull as ten thousand devils! Dismal! Dreary! Bed at nine o’clock, in a crib about five feet square. Damn those bagpipes!’ T.W. Moody, R.B. McDowell and C.J. Woods (eds.), The writings of Theobald Wolfe Tone, vol. I … (Oxford, 1998), pp 307–8. 22 JULY 1830, THOMASTOWN, CO. KILKENNY: ‘I and my son retired to a fine feather-bed with a pair of clean white sheets, and every other comfort, but the bagpiper, Coltannach, was playing, and cursing, and wrangling with drunkards. They kept me from sleeping. I got up with my son and we went to Mangan’s where we slept heavily until six in the morn- ing.’ Tomás de Bhaldraithe (ed.), The diary of Humphrey O’Sullivan 1827–1835: a translation of CÍN LAE AMHLAOIBH (Dublin and Cork, 1979), pp 89–90. ‘THURSDAY MARCH 17TH [1983] ST PATRICK’S DAY … – 2 a.m. Can’t sleep for the noise of Irish bag- pipes leaking out of the O’Learys’ house. 4 a.m. Just woken up by the sound of breaking glass. 6 a.m. A police car has just left the O’Learys’ house taking Sean O’Leary with it. Sean looked quite cheerful, in fact he was singing a song about Forty Shades of Green.’ Sue Townsend, The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole (London, 1984), p. 162. – Compiled by Seán Donnelly ~ SEANCHAS ~ SLEEPLESS NIGHTS

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