A lost family photograph of ours evokes a particular memory for me. I was about four years of age standing next to my grandfather who was standing next to his donkey which had baskets on either side full of turf. It looked for all the world like a John Hinde postcard depicting an over romanticised view of Ireland, which if it ever existed certainly doesn’t exist now. My grandfather would have cut turf by hand. Cutting just enough as was needed at a rate that allowed the bog to replenish. That Ireland is certainly is gone. By Dan Boyle.