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Spud Sunday: Father’s Spuds

My Da never had much truck with Father’s Day.

And yet I wish, as this year’s Father’s Day rolls around – and as I have wished every day for the past two months – that he were here, even if all he were to do was give out, in his characteristically forthright way, about what is, after all, a makey-uppy date on the Hallmark calendar.

I’ll mark the day by having my first taste of those spuds, planted in the greenhouse by neighbour John’O, and whose progress the Da had keenly followed. They’ll be enjoyed in the best way possible – steamed, served with butter and salt, and eaten with family – which is just how he liked them.

Big John Wires Spuds

A sign helpfully added to the greenhouse by my niece Emma,
alerting all and sundry (including the Da above) to the fact that
these are, in fact, our neighbour's spuds,
he being the affectionately named Big John Wire

Garden fork at the ready

The garden fork, primed and ready to lift

Potato harvest

A haul of freshly dug Duke of Yorks, a sight my Da would have relished


  1. brian@irelandfavorites

    Thanks for the piece, As we remember our dad we always end up laughing at some unique expressions he would use to “motivate” us, “pigs ass” being his favorite. He was a grower of annuals and would be giving Big John a pat on the back for this crop of spuds, hope you enjoyed the day,

  2. Daily Spud

    Thanks for the little insight into your dad, Brian – there are so many ways, big and small, in which we remember those who have gone before us, and all the better when those memories make us smile or laugh at the thought of those who meant so much.

  3. Ange

    God bless ‘phonetic’ spelling! :)))

  4. Daily Spud

    God bless it indeed Ange & God bless John Wire and his spuds!

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