Dear Father Simon and gathered brethren,

It has been many years since my last confession and it is only now that I feel as I approach the autumn of my life that I should offload a deed done in my youth.

The year was 1976 and for those of an age they will certainly remember that the summer of that year was one of glorious sunshine when day after day the sky was blue and the temperatures were an encouragement to be clothed in as few garments as possible – and lightweight ones at that - the significance of which will become apparent later.

The place was in a very remote part of Ireland which at the time was home for me. Along that coast line there were some very secluded beaches formed of small pieces of coral. We never really understood how these beaches were formed or happened to be where they were other than being told it was due to the warm Gulf Stream that lapped those shores. But we knew they were unique and very much off the tourist route.

I remember the actual day in question very well; it was a Sunday, a day which was, at that place and time, taken literally as a day of rest. My school friend Daniel and I had been fishing off the rocks with little success because the clear blue sea and belting sunshine meant the fish were nowhere to be seen. We were walking home empty handed and our journey took us past one of these secluded Coral beaches. Imagine our surprise when we saw lying stark naked on the beach a man and a women.

Being youthful inquisitive lads not quite into our teens we ventured closer in a stealth like manner, as we had seen in the Westerns, to get a better view, while keeping our profile low to avoid detection.

Having never seen a naked lady before, not even in picture form, I am sure you can imagine our excitement at our first encounter with what we believed to be an angel. It was only when the man stood up we were brought back to reality because up to that point we had forgotten he was there. We then recognised that they were people on holiday from America who were renting a cottage just a mile or so from the beach. They had not made a good impression on the locals being very vocal and loud on how small and backward everything was in Ireland. On many occasions they talked of how they could fit one of the local Irish cars into the “trunk” of their second car they had at home in America that they use only for going to “The Mall”.

The man took the lady’s hand and they made their way down to the sea for what I know now to be a skinny dip. Daniel and I looked at each other and without a word we each knew what we were going to do next. We also knew we would have to be quick because Gulf Stream or not, the sea along that coast is freezing and the couples’ venture into the water would not be a long one. When they were a safe distance away we popped over the fence to the point they’d been lying, and picked up the handful of clothes, which weren’t many, together with their sandals and put them in the carrier bag we had for the fish - which of course was empty.

Desperately trying not to giggle, we popped back over the fence and made our way through to the adjacent field with the intent to drop their clothes in the middle where they could be seen. It was then that our blaggarding took a twisted turn. In this field was a donkey fitted with a collar which is used when pulling a cart. We tied the bag of clothes to this collar. I should say at this point that the bag was a simple clear plastic bag so the contents were clearly visible. We then made off and hid behind some bushes.

As we had thought the couple didn’t stay in the sea for too long and soon returned to the place they had been sunbathing to find it empty of their belongings. We then heard a series of expletives - some of which were new to us. We heard the woman screaming at the man and the man swearing that he “would get” whoever had taken their clothes.

The man spotted the donkey in the next field and saw the bag on its collar and that their clothes were in the bag. He then gingerly made his way into the field and approached the donkey. However anyone who knows that part of Ireland will know that the fields are generally not pristine meadows but fields of rock, bog and gorse bushes. Despite his best efforts every so often the man stepped on one of these bushes and screeched and swore which made the donkey move even further away. My lasting memory is watching this naked man following the donkey around the field being shouted and screeched at by his wife.

Daniel and I couldn’t contain ourselves and our sides were sore from laughter which made me have a little accident. The man by this time had clocked us and waved his fist and further expletives in our direction telling us what he would do once he got his clothes back. We decided at this point to take our leave.

I seek forgiveness... not from the loud mouthed tourists who had everything bigger and better in their home in America ..... they gave me one of the most entertaining days I’ve had in my life and one I will continue to treasure....no, I seek forgiveness for the stress and anxiety that we must have put that poor donkey through.

Mike