G'Day From Downunder

Grab the kettle and let's have another cup of tea while the pot's still hot.

I'm probably flogging myself to death by making the following comment, but at least I'm being up front and honest: I reckon I've drank in more Pubs than Errol Flynn bedded leading ladies and, of all the pubs, clubs and watering holes or whatever you would like to call them, nothing I've seen anywhere in the whole wide world matches the 'Hi B'.

Well, you may ask, what is the 'Hi B' and where is it?

This little one room bar of mystery and wonder is located on the first floor of 108 Oliver Plunket Street in my city of birth, Cork.

I dropped in to have a quick chat with the owner and proprietor Brian O'Donnell (whose age is one of the mysteries) on my recent trip to Ireland.

Did I say a quick chat? Yea, that's what I thought I said. Well this quick chat lasted two days and a bit. I'll tell you about the 'bit' at the end of this report.

Brian is without doubt one of the most amazing people you will every meet, a brilliant artist who etched portraits of Einstein, The Agar Khan, The King of Norway, The Duke of Windsor, Alexander Fleming, Cecil B De Mille and many more, all signed by his subjects and displayed for all patrons to see in this magic of magic little places, the 'Hi B'.

Brian's talent is not limited to his art. He is a master wordsmith and a gifted storyteller with few equals.

In past years I have spent time with some of Ireland's best storytellers, John B Keane in his own nest in Listowel, Kruger in Dunqueen, The Pecker Dunn in Ballybunnion, Finbar Furey and more recently Neil Tobine in Dublin.

They were all wonderful storytellers. But, were they race horses, my money would be on Brian O'Donnell - his wit is sharper than any barber's blade.

Brian guards his domain like an Irish wolfhound guards his beloved bone.

If Brian doesn't like the look of you or suspects you may not complement his establishment, you are out the door quicker than you came in.

Yet in speaking with Brian he displays none of that side of his character.

In essence he is a very soft spoken, gentle-mannered gentleman with a constant smile, an opinion on everything and always humorous.

In his younger day he was doing medicine as a subject in school and discovered he had a blood phobia (just as I do) and so that was the end of his medical career before it even started!

Brian's dad who had been an electrical engineer with a Tram company in Cork took over the 'Hi B' in 1923.

It was then a hotel, but in 1929 the hotel section was separated from the bar due to licensing laws.

In 1959 Brian's dad passed away and so Brian took over the business.

When I asked him if it was a huge change for him to go into the bar business he replied "not really, you see all medicine is observation, all bar business is observation, as is all life"

I asked him what makes this place so special other than the fact the décor and furniture are as it was way back in the beginning.

With his never-ending smile and soft spoken voice he said "you see its only one room and you can't hide from anyone. It's intimate and at any time of any given day you may see a politician having a drink with a council worker or a Bishop having a drink with a pop star there is no class distinction here.

"Mike," he said, "one of the nicest things a patron told me was you don't feel alone if you are the only person in the 'Hi B'."

My observation of the 'Hi B' is that patrons come in to observe, to have a quite drink and to feel what it was like many years ago to be in a kitchen-style country pub.

They come in out of curiosity to see which famous person may be having a quiet drink in the corner.

But most of all, I have no doubt, the intellectuals who come in, come to do intellectual joust with the maestro of wit himself, Brian O'Donnell.

If any of you are planning a trip to Ireland make sure you drop in and have a chat and a pint at Brian's 'Hi B' for if you don't you will have missed one of the great opportunities to listen to one of life's master storytellers, who is always good for a quote or for one liners like, "A promise made is a debit unpaid" or "punctuality is the politeness of Princes," or ask him about human interaction and he will tell you we are progressing backwards.

Don't be shy to ask him how wealthy he is and he will tell you he two notes short of what you might think he has.

While you're quizzing the master ask him what's the difference between bribery and corruption and he will glowingly tell you, "bribery is one brown envelope and corruption is two brown envelopes."

What ever you do be warned. Don't take a mobile phone into the 'Hi B' for it is frowned upon.

I have spent lots of time interviewing people from all walks of life over the years but rarely do I get to spend time with someone like Brian.

He is certainly one out of the box, an absolute pleasure and privilege to debate with.

I promised Brian I would leave this interview/discussion open to be continued on my next trip to Ireland, for he and I have many more things to say before we join the heavenly choir!

Brian will be squirming with embarrassment over this shower of flattery.

I know (because he said so) that he would find it easier to deal with abuse than compliments.

I spent two spellbinding days with Brian and his wit.

Now let me tell you about 'the bit' I mentioned earlier.

During my time with Brian he asked me what I was doing on Saturday.

I told him I would be watching the European Cup Rugby Final, Munster versus Toulouse on TV.

Ah yes he says but that's not on till 5pm what are you doing at 12 noon?

I tell him I planned on doing a bit of shopping. He says "would you like to come to a memorial gathering?".

What could I say! He tells me it would be very intellectually stimulating and he was sure I would enjoy it. Again what could I say!

The rendezvous is firstly Brian's 'Hi B' at 11.55am.

Then all will meet outside the Imperial Hotel at 12 noon sharp.

It's a beautiful sunny day and with me being the 'punctual pain in the ass' that I am, I arrive spot on time.

Brian and I scuffle our way across Winthrop Street to the Imperial Hotel on South Mall just two minutes from the 'Hi B'

Now remember, I have no idea who the memorial is for or where we are going. Then the fun starts, a minibus is parked outside the hotel, some people have arrived and others are late; Brian tells me that the people present are artist and friends of the deceased John Bourke who was a wonderful sculptor.

As some people are running late one of the lads suggests that we should all go for a drink until the others arrive, then another says if we go for a drink there will be no getting out of the hotel until closing time.

Then Frances Lynch, the lady who organised the event, suggests she and her friend order a pint of cider each to be brought out to the bus so that no one went missing.

In a wonderful way it reminded me of my first day at school being scuffled around except now we are supposed to be adults yet it felt like a kindergarten for grown-ups.

Francis certainly had her hands full with this bus full (or nearly bus full by now) of John Bourke's friends.

As always, after the storm comes the calm, and so the last of the stragglers arrive and we are off to Watergrass Hill where John is buried. All fourteen of us including the driver.

Francis and her female companion, Glenys Casey, declare that all is well and a bottle each of Paddy's and Powers whiskey is on hand to drink to John's memory.

The journey takes about forty-five minutes amidst a chorus of Irish rebel songs and shouts of "raise the volume" and "turn the volume down".

On arrival at the graveyard we all dismount and sluggishly walk our way like ducks complaining of bad backs, legs and hangovers, to John's graveside.

Everyone appears to be restless and reluctant to form a ring around the graveside.

There is a lot of emotion in the air and I could tell all are fighting back tears.

After 10 minutes or so everyone is more composed and then each speaks of their love, respect and admiration for the artist John Bourke, RIP.

After a wonderful outpouring of affection it was time for another pouring.

Everyone was given a polystyrene cup only to have a decent drop of Powers or Paddy's whiskey to drink in John's memory.

I felt privileged to be among such a group of people who refused to let go of a friendship that was forged in life to continue after death.

Yet with the sadness of John's passing in 2007 in their eyes, he is still very much with them.

We all sipped our whiskey to John's memory then tipped the last of the cups and bottles over his grave so as he could share with us.

Then one of the lads said "he must be surely dead otherwise the bugger would have put his hand up and grabbed the bottle."

Sadly, this is a respect of friends for friends that we don't see enough of these days.

Everyone shuffles back to the bus, teary-eyed, including myself who never knew the deceased but couldn't help but be moved by the whole event.

Now it was back to the local pub in Watergrass Hill to have another drink for John's memory, then back Brian's 'Hi B' for another drink for John's memory.

When I queried why John was buried so far away I was told, "he was a stubborn bastard and got buried there to cause us all an inconvenience."

Then someone else had told me he wanted to be buried standing up facing his beloved Tipperary with his ass pointing at Cork.

Now tell me. Who would ever want to go to a wedding, a christening or a even comedy show when you can have all that emotion at John Bourke's memorial? Long may his friends pay homage to him!

Brian I thank you for inviting me to this very privileged occasion. To be continued. Until I talk to you again be good to those who love you!

Slainte from Downunder.