Getting up on a cold Sunday morning, racing to mass, praying to God that the priest would fly through the sermon, racing back to the house past the canal with all things possible dumped in it. Gathering old clothes, dumping them into a bag then heading down to Seville place. The old club was located in a building where every now and then the high tide filled the small hall with water. We played everything in the tiny hall, table tennis, basketball, and gymnastics, the hall was also used to store canoes and Mirror dinghies. On those Sunday mornings, we loaded canoes onto a trailer, and a bunch of us headed out to the Wren’s Nest located on the river Liffey.