An Irishman's Diary

'WELCOME to Tipperary," proclaims a large roadside sign, "You've Come a Long Way!".

No-one with a sense of history, or any appreciation of popular culture, can approach Tipperary town without a keen feeling of anticipation. It is a journey about which millions of people throughout these islands have been singing ever since that song seeped out of Edwardian music halls and was adopted by soldiers marching off to the first World War. Yet few who belt out the words can have any idea of what really lies there. Home to "the sweetest girl I know", for generations of Britons it has been a fabulous, mythical place to which Tommies dreamt of returning after the horrors of the trenches. Most never came back.

Yet despite the song's indelible associations with the British army there is nowhere more quintessentially Irish.

Unlike other towns which share their name with that of the county, Tipperary isn't the "capital". It's tucked away in the south-east of the old South Riding (as the administrative area of South Tipperary County Council was formerly known) and plays second fiddle to Clonmel.

On a grey winter morning the place is really only stirring at 10am. There's no Starbuck's, or any other fancy coffee house, visible. At Daly's "Stop Shop", the woman behind the counter greeted a builder. "How's it going?" she asked. "Ah, tippin' away," he replied; "that was a grand oul' breakfast." His recommendation was more convincing than a review from the Michelin man. And, sure enough, tucked away behind the racks of newspapers and groceries was a homely little café.

This, decidedly, isn't "skinny latte" country. Commercial life is solidly, unapologetically, proudly provincial. There's not a Dublin - let alone, a British - "retail multiple" in sight.

The shops are old-fashioned, which means they're full of things people actually need. "O'Dwyer Bros. Electrical — Estb 1940" boasts that it is "here to serve", while Kinnane's across the street sells "Men's, Youths and Boys Wear". Each item in its jam-packed window carries a hand-written price tag: "Great Value Men's Long Johns €5.99"; and a "Tweed Overcoat €149.99". Pairs of Wellington boots are displayed on the footpath.

The Fitzgerald Photovision Tourist Centre sells Tipperary souvenirs: a biography of former county hurling manager Michael "Babs" Keating; a DVD to "teach yourself line-dancing"; a little framed picture of Slievenamon. Quinlan's lounge is advertising music for Saturday night with a band called "Reverse the Hearse". And Noel Ryan's pub has a poster at the entrance for the "Belturbet Matchmaking Weekend". Now that really would be a long way to go.

And there are some lovely old shopfronts: "O'Connor Bros Hardware - Estb 1937" at 36 Main Street; "Fitzpatrick's Printers and Stationers" on Davis Street; and "Ronan" at 4, Bank Place Upper which sadly sports a planning notice. A clock-face is painted on the wall above Power's hardware shop on Church Street - its hands frozen forever at three o'clock — with the words: "On Strike".

Even the fast-food joints are local ("Big Mac" and "American Stars") with not a sign of the "golden arches" or the whiskery, bow-tied Colonel Saunders.

At the outdoor market, business isn't brisk, but a stallholder selling vegetables has a stoical, "Dig for Victory" attitude: "We're surviving the recession,", he says cheerfully. "Sure people have to eat".

An eclectic stall run by Mark Hearne features an A4 poster for "Pure Natural Himalayan Rock Salt Licks to stop your animals eating the fencing posts or chewing dirt". A box of 12 costs €60, which he says is "very good value". But his best-selling items are "the fairies" - resin figurines of the "little people" which "a lot of people collect". The most popular model is "Scarlet", a very grown-up looking, 9-inch, winged "doll" provocatively posing in racy black basque, stockings and suspenders. Mr Hearne says: "She's the perfect woman; she looks great and says nothing." Most of his customers are women, but "fellas buy them as well".

The traffic is relentless. Main Street is actually part of the Waterford to Limerick road. "We badly need a bypass," says a local man, "but we've missed the boat." Overlooking it all is Charles Kickham, splendid in bronze. The inscription on the plinth beneath remembers the 19th-century Tipperary novelist, poet and "above all, patriot". Through gaps in the streetscape, you can glimpse the wooded hillsides and the Galtee mountain peaks in the surrounding countryside.

Just yards from the thundering lorries is the calm oasis of St Mary's. The church (C of I) is locked, but a lovely graveyard is well-kept and strangely inviting. The gravestones are leaning over from sheer, worn-out, centuries-old age - most of the names lost for ever through weathering.

But where is the "The Maid of Erin" who once stood proudly on a pedestal at the end of Main Street? The famous monument was originally unveiled in 1907 to commemorate the "Manchester Martyrs" - Allen, Larkin and O'Brien - the Fenian prisoners hanged in England in 1867.

A passer-by, Joe O'Sullivan, explains that "she was moved after she got the odd belt of a truck" swerving round the corner towards Oola and beyond. She's not so visible now: the statues is sheltering in a railed, pebble-dashed alcove opposite Kitty's Barber Shop and Noel's Butchers.

Joe is 80 and retired as a plumber three years ago. "I had a good life," he says. "It was a good old town." He smiles as he recalls dancing in the Tower Ballroom. But there's plenty of life in him yet. He's "had both knees done" and, although his ballroom of romance may have closed years ago, he and his wife have found a new venue. They now go dancing "every Sunday night in a small hotel up towards the mountains".

It may be a long way to Tipperary. But the heart of old Ireland lies there.

And it's beating still.