Congratulations Leaving Certificate Students 2022.

This year’s Leaving Certificate results were issued on Friday last, September 2nd, 2022. Congratulations to all the pupils in Tipperary and nationwide who received their results. Sitting the Leaving Certificate exams, particularly at this time, is an enormous achievement in and of itself.

We at wish you every success for the future.

As is customary, pupils have been deservedly celebrating this milestone ahead of taking a new path; be it to work, an apprenticeship or college. Pubs and nightclubs have been busy all weekend playing the classic graduation songs in honour of our wonderful Leaving Certificate pupils.

Every graduation year has its own special song, but here at, to wish you all well for the weeks and years ahead, we’ve chosen the lesser known hit “My Wish for You” from the American Country music band Rascal Flatts.

My Wish
Composers Steve Robson & Jeffrey Steele.

I hope the days come easy and the moments pass slow
And each road leads you where you want to go
And if you’re faced with a choice, and you have to choose
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you
And if one door opens to another door closed
I hope you keep on walkin’ ’till you find the window
If it’s cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile
But more than anything, more than anything
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small
You never need to carry more than you can hold
And while you’re out there getting where you’re getting to
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too
Yeah, this, is my wish
I hope you never look back, but ya never forget
All the ones who love you, in the place you left
I hope you always forgive, and you never regret
And you help somebody every chance you get
Oh, you find God’s grace, in every mistake
And always give more than you take
But more than anything, yeah, more than anything
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small
You never need to carry more than you can hold
And while you’re out there getting where you’re getting to
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too
Yeah, this, is my wish. Yeah
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that want it to
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small
You never need to carry more than you can hold
And while you’re out there gettin’ where you’re gettin’ to
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too
Yeah, this is my wish (My wish for you)
This is my wish (My wish for you)
Hope you know somebody loves you (My wish for you)
May all your dreams come true (My wish for you)


Top Fifteen Graduation Songs for Leaving Cert Class of 2022

In honour of the Leaving Certificate Class of 2022, we’ve pulled together a Top Fifteen of Graduation songs, together with their links.
Enjoys these wise words and wishes!

From Wicked the Musical: For Good. [A big ‘Thank You‘ to our Teachers]
American Authors: Best Day of My Life.
Bill Withers: Lean on me.
Green Day: Time of Your Life.
Rascal Flatts: My Wish for You.
Tyrone Wells: Time of Our Lives.
Bruno Mars: Count on Me.
Phil Collins: I’m on My Way.
Lee Ann Womack: I Hope You Dance.
Take That: Greatest Day.
Joan Baez: Forever Young.
The Beatles: In My Life.
Joe Cocker: With a Little Help from My Friends.
Dusty Springfield: Goin’ Back.
Dolly Parton and Kenny Rodgers: You Can’t Make Old Friends.


St Patrick’s Day Update 2024 – Thurles Co. Tipperary.

Before we update details of our annual St Patrick’s day celebrations; note, today is Sunday March 10th 2024, and tonight the 96th Academy Awards Ceremony takes place at the Dolby Theatre, in Hollywood, Los Angeles.
In addition to reporting on who won what, magazines like ‘Vogue‘ and ‘Harper’s Bazaar‘ will be reporting on what the movie stars were wearing.
Designer gowns by ‘Fendi‘, ‘Valentino‘ and other famous Italian designers will, no doubt, top the best dressed lists. But do our readers realise that Liberty Square, Thurles, Co. Tipperary, has historical links to ‘Vogue’, ‘Harper’s Bazaar’, ‘Fendi’, ‘Valentino’, and the wider Italian fashion industry? No we will not be just talking about labels on existing garments.
So if you want to know more, tune in tomorrow, to read a fascinating piece of history, to add to Thurles Town’s already existing treasure trove of heritage.

Thurles St Patricks Day Parade Update.

A special thanks to Mr John Kenehan for his parade update.

Following many months of preparation the Thurles St Patrick’s Day Parade Committee has confirmed that the annual event is shaping up to be a good one, and they are praying for good weather on the day for the viewing public and the participants

We remind the public and visitors that the Thurles St Patrick’s Day Parade 2024, will take place on Sunday 17th March 2024, beginning at 2.30pm sharp in Liberty Square, Thurles.

This year’s theme is “Youth: Our hopes for the Future’.
Our special “Guest of honour”, will reflect this theme, with CBS Secondary School pupil and twin category Young Scientist Award winner (2024), Luke Blackwell in attendance.

The continued success of the parade, over past years, is based largely on the generous sponsorship of local businesses, groups and Tipperary County Council.

The quality of entries and effort by clubs and organisations also ensure this annual level of success and we look forward to viewing this year’s presentation.

Note: Entry forms are still available from or direct from the Tourist Office, Slievenamon Road, Thurles.

Live Music in Liberty Square will begin from 1:00pm with face painting and side attractions.

In keeping with the national day of celebration the Parade Committee are asking that all shops and businesses dress up their display windows and business fronts in green and national colours to signify our special day of celebration.
Note: There will be awards for the Best dressed Window and runner-up and best Traditional Window and runner-up.

We look forward to fair weather for this most enjoyable of national holidays, and we look forward to meeting with you at the Parade on Sunday 17th March next

The committee would like to thank the people of Thurles, Upperchurch/Drombane, Holycross/Ballycahill and Moyne for their generous support to our annual fundraising appeal.

We would also like to thank also our local business sponsors for their generous support again this year:

Business Sponsors.

The Anner Hotel, Thurles Lions Club, Hanna Curtains & Blinds Ltd, The Thurles Irish Countrywomans Association, Linnane Carry-Out, Sammons Pharmacy, Vale Oil Company Ltd, Lyons Tyre Services, Denis Kinnane Motors, EuroGiant Thurles, Tipperary County Council, Barry’s SuperValu Thurles, SHE Boutique Thurles, Ronayne’s Hardware, Air Impact Ltd, Premier Surgery, Supermacs’ Thurles, O’Dwyer Transport, The Premier Credit Union, The Mall Curios, Hanafin’s Furniture & Flooring, Tim Looby Accountants, Thomas Murphy & Sons Machinery Ltd, Londis The Square, Thurles info, Butler & Young Tyres, Stakelum’s Home & Hardware, Dinan’s Timber, E. Cleary Motors Ltd, Ryans Cleaning, Hugh Ryan’s Funeral Directors, Centenary Thurles Co-op, Michael’s Jewellers, Noel Ryans Pub, Michael Lowry T.D., Pat Brennan’s Bar Thurles Ltd, Flowers R Us, Jackie Cahill T.D., Jennings Opticians, Bowe Travel, Tipp FM, Kings Mobile, Kennedys County Bar, Hickey’s Pharmacy, Mobile Tek, Kambo Chinese Restaurant, Q Mobile Thurles, The Tipperary Star, Tipperary Live, Thurles Tourist Office and Thurles Chamber of Commerce.


Home For The Christmas

Home For The Christmas – A short story from the pen of Thurles Co. Tipperary, poet and author Tom Ryan.

Home For The Christmas ©

It was just a small town in a small country, but in that town beat ten thousand hearts, each with his own book to write; each unique, with thoughts, feelings, doubts, hopes, frustrations, dreams and dreams shattered. On this Christmas Eve, like many other Irish towns, it was like a picture postcard; with its wide, spacious, traffic-jammed main street, and its monuments to dead heroes, lying covered with a thick mantle of snow and ice.

The bells in the little church were summoning the populace from the Christian community, to a Christmas Carol Service. Last-minute shoppers were slipping and slithering from cosy, brightly lit, damp-floored shops, latter packed with hardy rural folk, almost contemptuous of the weather, and urban townsfolk, all excited and exchanging seasonal greetings with one another.

In the hotel on the main street, there in the cosy bar, one man drank alone.

This worst-case scenario was indeed quite a feat; for just about everybody drinks together or at least in smaller groups, in a small town on Christmas Eve. All troubles and daily problems are generally swept aside, like the icy, slushy snow outside, while that rare, but precious, Christmas warmth and conviviality, takes precedence over all else.

The man who drank alone was in his late sixties, a somewhat medium sized man, wearing silver-rimmed glasses; behind the lens of which were grey misty blue eyes that stared somewhat indifferently at a pint glass of Guinness. It was his first drink since he had alighted from the train that morning. He brushed a few remaining, now melting snowflakes from off his tweed overcoat, on the seat beside him.
He had thought about this trip home only about a week before after he had buried his wife, Biddy, back there in New York city. The loneliness swept over him now again, as he envisioned her as she had been when he had met her at a céili in a rural hall, not many miles from the warm setting, wherein he now sat. He clearly recalled that the year in question was 1944, just before D–Day, and it was around Christmas time, too.

That old man of hers had never approved of his darling daughter, Biddy; her being a farmer’s daughter, wishing to get hitched up with a scallywag of a farm labourer. It was after many rows, that they had decided to run away secretly, in order to get married. He smiled thinly now at the memory, but in that chosen new ‘Land of the free’, they had somehow made it, though never rising to massive heights in the dollars stakes. They continued to warm to one another and even more so, as the years came and went, although they were never blessed with children.

Thirty five years, God, how the old country had changed, he thought. So modern and alive; a modernity that made him feel a little out of touch. He noted the wall-to-wall carpets in the hotel bar, the television blaring and flashing to a heedless audience, and the screaming kids with their folks close-by. So brazen, these kids! You knew your place in his day, and you didn’t talk unless you were spoken to. You may not have had a great education, but in his day, you did learn manners and thanks to the school Master you did learn your three basic Rs.

Oh, what the hell was he doing in this town. It was a strange land to him after all these years, especially without his beloved Biddy. It was just a tale of two cities now that he no longer felt acquainted with. He had left New York to find reminders of a previous world; his and Biddy’s young world, and gardens where it seemed roses grew all year round cottage doors; where they kept on meeting at dances and where they had fallen in love and stormed wildly at the world. God-damn it; he felt suddenly embarrassed at the realisation, and he was now weeping, unable to conceal or hold back his tears.

“You all right, sir?” He became aware that the young voice, which carried the sound of true concern, came from that of a young woman of about twenty five years old and she had placed an arm on his shoulder. For some inexplicable reason, she seemed vaguely familiar to him.
“Oh, I was just remembering, thank you,” he sniffled.
“Yes, it is a time for remembering, isn’t it,” the girl said.

She was dark-haired, with eyes to match, a creamy skin, tall and well cut, wearing a black skirt with white blouse, and looking like a movie star, rather than an Irish small town girl. She carried a bright blue anorak on her arm.

“You from around here?” she asked, though, he felt, not in any idly, inquisitive tone.
He was composed now and grateful for the young woman’s interruption of his feelings and thoughts.
He grinned, “Funny, I’ve been figuring that, I just come in from New York”.
“An American?”, she volunteered.
“Yeah, I guess sort of, although I was born here, outside town. My wife, she was born here too. First time home in thirty five years.” He now found it odd that he should use that word ‘home’.
“Have a drink?” he said.
“No, thanks very much”, she replied, adding “I don’t drink. I’m just waiting for my mother to come out from the interdenominational Carol Service in the local church, so I can drive her home.”
“You’re a good girl.” he said and he meant it.
She laughed. “Try to tell that to my mum. She thinks… ”
The girl considered a moment before continuing, “Well, there’s no work around here, you know and I want to go to the States. I’d like to be a model. But mammy thinks it’s so far away. Kevin, my boyfriend, is not happy about it either; I mean it’s only a few hours away by airplane, but sure you must know that.”
“And what does your daddy think?” he queried.
A shadow came across her face. “He died last year. There’s only mum and me now.”
“You and your mother. You get on all right?” he further queried.
The young woman suddenly shook with laughter. “Oh, yes! Like a house on fire. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s the greatest mother in the world. I guess she’s sad after dad. She misses him terribly.”
The elderly man took another sip from his pint before declaring, “Loneliness is a terrible thing.”
“I suppose so, but she’s got so many friends: The ICA, the Drama Group, the Sodality, the Chess Club; she simply knows everybody”, she replied
Again, the elderly man thought there was something so familiar about the young woman’s face. He wished he could place it and then, suddenly in a flash, it came to him and he remembered.

A wild teenager who had got up to devilment everywhere together with his love Biddy. What was her name? Gertie, Gertie McDonald. But she had gone to become a nun above in Dublin, at the time when he had left town. Surely …?”
He addressed the young woman; “I don’t think I got your name, Miss?”
“Margie, Margie Dwyer. No, not O’Dwyer, we o nothing to no one”, she laughed. “But they call me Margie McDonald, because I resemble my mother so much”, she continued.
Just then a stout, rather flushed, fur-coated, vivacious woman came into the bar, entering from the foyer. The years had not so changed her that he didn’t immediately recognise that swaggering, bold stride.
“Why if it isn’t Jack Ryan,” the girl’s mother whooped, after staring briefly at the elderly man in her daughter’s company.
“Gertie, I thought you were a nun in Dublin, a Mother Superior at least by now,” he quipped, as he rose to warmly shake her hand.
“Oh, after two years I discovered I had no vocationI suppose. But, Jack Ryan-after all these years. How are you at all?” she queried. Then, in a lower tone, “I am so sorry, Jack. I heard about poor Biddy.”
“I know,” he acknowledged the sympathy “and you had your own troubles too I’ve just learned”.
She nodded. “And what in God’s name brings you home after all these years. The auld sod must now be strange to you.”
“Oh, not really. I have found a kind, young friend here,” he smiled, patting the young woman’s arm.
“So, you have met Margie. What a coincidence, so where are you staying, Jack?”
“Here in the hotel, Gertie, up in Room 89″ he replied.
“Ah, now, Jack”, Gertie replied. “Not in a hotel room at Christmas. You’ll come out to the farm with Margie and me. At our age there will be no auld talk of scandal. You know me, Jack. Gertie knows her own kind and goes her own way, which or whether. Them that mind don’t matter and them that matter don’t mind.”

There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. An older Gertie had not changed a bit, he thought. Always, like his Biddy, pure independent. “Sure, we’ll go down memory lane and do some great tracing together. Maybe kill a few whiskies into the bargain.” She winked at him cheekily.
“You’re an awful woman,” he grinned.
“Now, Jack, you’ll be a guest in our home and welcome. Sure, you’re auld stock, an auld townie, one of our own and a neighbour.” She winked again: “And a little more, if you remember rightly, maybe.” He smiled at the recalling of a pleasant night he and Gertie had spent at a cross-roads platform dance one warm summer’s night, before he had first become acquainted with Biddy.

Throughout all this, young Margie Dwyer had remained dutifully silent, but visibly pleased to see her mother come alive again, like she had not been for some long, long time. Her modelling work in New York did not now have that same great urgency for her and she realised possibly for the first time an amazing fact; that work, though paramount, was not the only important thing in life, not when hearts were one, warm, kind and caring.
Right now the girl felt suddenly at home; yes, really at home again, and it was Christmas, and she would think of modelling and New York city at another time. Now where would she find boyfriend Kevin on a Christmas Eve? She wanted to tell him all about this.
Jack looked around him in the bar, as a hundred hands offered to help him with his suitcase.
“I’ll take you up on that offer, Gertie Dwyer, and grateful to you I am for it.” he said
The young woman, cheeks now glowing with great warmth, said: “Merry Christmas, Mr Ryan”.
Jack Ryan put one arm around the young woman’s shoulders and another around her mother’s waist, and, with great joy and a feeling that life was truly wonderful after all, he replied: “Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas.”


September Morn

September Morn.

Lyrics: Gilbert Francois Leopold Becaud, latter a French singer, composer, pianist and actor, known as “Monsieur 100,000 Volts”, because of his energetic performances and Neil Leslie Diamond [Neil Diamond] American singer-songwriter who has sold more than 130 million records worldwide.

Vocals: Singer-songwriter Neil Diamond.

It’s a sunny ‘September Morning’ here in Thurles, Co. Tipperary and we find ourselves, once again, in that month which begins our Autumn season, romanticised by the poet John Keats, who described this time of year as the ‘season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’.

This song, hereunder, on the other hand, attempts to romanticise a couple who have come back together after a break in their relationship. It’s an emotional moment, as the singer discusses his recollections and indeed his feelings, when they once both danced together on a certain September morning, previously. Since then they have grown apart, and he now hopes that their relationship has not become too distant, and that they can still remember those good times together.

September Morn.

September Morn.

Stay for just a while.
Stay and let me look at you.
It’s been so long, I hardly knew you,
Standing in the door.
Stay with me a while,
I only wanna talk to you.
We’ve travelled halfway round the world,
To find ourselves again.
September morn,
We danced until the night,
Became a brand new day.
Two lovers playing scenes,
From some romantic play.
September morning,
Still can make me feel that way.
Look at what you’ve done,
Why, you’ve become a grown-up girl.
I still can hear you crying,
In the corner of your room,
And look how far we’ve come,
So far from where we used to be,
But not so far that we’ve forgotten,
How it was before.
September morn,
Do you remember,
How we danced that night away.
Two lovers playing scenes,
From some romantic play.
September morning.
Still can make me feel that way.
September morn,
We danced until the night,
Became a brand new day.
Two lovers playing scenes,
From some romantic play.
September morning,
Still can make me feel that way.
September morn,
We danced until the night,
Became a brand new day.
Two lovers playing scenes,
From some romantic play.
September morning,
Still can make me feel that way.
September morning,
Still can make me feel that way.



New Guidelines Published for Parents on Children’s Data Protection Rights.

The Data Protection Commission (DPC) has recently published four short guides for parents on children’s data protection rights under General Data Protection Regulations (GDPR). These guides are intended to help parents to understand their children’s rights and to answer questions that can arise in typical situations where those rights apply.

Protecting children’s personal data is an important priority for the DPC, and is one of the five strategic goals of our 2022-2027 Regulatory Strategy. The DPC has also published our ‘Fundamentals’ guidance on children’s data protection rights to help organisations provide the special protection required when they process children’s personal data. These guides are part of the DPC’s work to give effect to the goals stated those documents.

My child’s data protection rights – the basics
The above link outlines some of the issues that can arise when a parent seeks to exercise data protection rights on behalf of their child.

Children’s data and parental consent
The above link looks at the meaning of the ‘digital age of consent’ and outlines when parents’ consent may be needed for processing their child’s personal data, and how parents can approach those cases.

Protecting my child’s data
The above link is intended to help parents understand the rights that they have in relation to their children’s data and gives some useful advice on how to protect their children’s rights.

Finally: Are there any limits on my child’s data protection rights?
This above link shown outlines some important limits to how and when children’s data protection rights may be exercised, whether by children themselves or by parents on their behalf. It outlines some common situations where these can arise and suggests ways in which parents can address them.

The DPC hopes that these guides will be useful not just to parents and guardians, but also to educators and anyone interested in children’s safety and wellbeing online.

If you have any questions about anything you read in these guides, you can email or call the DPC and they will be happy to answer your questions. You can find more information about how to contact the DPC HERE.