My cousin Barack
I’ve now done hundreds of interviews. I tried to keep count the day of President Obama’s visit, but by 9am I had already done 15, and I lost track after that. I’d hang up the phone and it would be hopping again. After the president left, I was ambushed by journalists asking me what he’d said.
People were calling me Henry the Eighth even before the visit, virtually since it became known that I was Obama’s eighth cousin. The name doesn’t bother me. Actually, it’s sort of funny the way the president heard that people had given me the name, and put it into his speech at College Green. The name is going to stick now, so I’ll have to like it.
I don’t mind the media attention, either. It’s been good for Moneygall, and highlighted the country in a brilliant way. We’ve had enough bad news for a number of years, so it was brilliant to be in the middle of a good-news story for a change.
Plumb job
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It’s gradually slowing down media wise, but Moneygall itself is still a hive of activity. There’s a constant flow of people visiting and retracing the steps of the president. At weekends it really takes off. Even midweek you have a few tour buses calling.
I don’t think I’m treated any differently by the people of Moneygall. I still work for a local plumbing company, doing the accounts. I wouldn’t be a qualified accountant, mind you, more of a glorified accountant. I start work at half eight in the morning and go right through to five. There’d be some interruptions because of the Obama connection.
Last week, I met with the American embassy staff. They had a gift from the president: a leather-bound notebook with a gold presidential seal on the front. Also, in the past few weeks, we’ve been planning a festival for this weekend, as tomorrow is Independence Day.
Quiet one down the local
Whenever I walk into my local, Ollie Hayes, there are always strangers in there and they’ll call me over for a photograph or to sign an autograph. Back before the president’s visit, the pub opened at 6pm; now they’re open from half past 10 in the morning. It feels surreal going into my local and having people look for your autograph. I can’t even sit down and watch a hurling match on the television and be left alone. In fact, since Obama’s visit, I’ve yet to sit down in the pub and watch a match with my friends and not be pulled away.
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Sometimes it’s annoying. I live next door to the pub, and I’d be walking out my front door and people just walk up to me asking: “Could you stand in front of the pub for a photograph?” In a sense, I’m being pushed out of my local. If I want a quiet drink with my friends, I have to go to the village nearby.
When I’m out of Moneygall, people don’t come up to me; they are not as brave outside the village. But I often hear them whisper “there’s Henry the Eighth” or something. Look, I don’t mind, it’s good fun and I smile for every photograph, but at times you want to be left alone.
Yes, we can — and we do
I’m hugely involved in the soccer club in Moneygall. I’m chairman of the club, so I’m all the time plotting and planning, and fundraising with the committee. We’re organising for next season, getting players and managers. Mind you, the annual meeting is coming up so I might not be doing anything after that; they might get rid of me.
To relax, I’ve started to read a lot. I’m currently enjoying Christy O’Connor’s The Club, and Carole Coleman sent me over her book, The Battle for the White House.
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When things slow down, I’ll be happy to get back to normal life. But I hope it doesn’t calm down for the village because everybody is on such a high. The place is buzzing. People have nearly forgotten there’s a recession. They come out on the street meeting with others and they’re curious about who’s coming around — we’ve even had celebrities dropping by.
The village has become more social with locals mixing a lot more. In short, President Obama has brought back a real sense of community to Moneygall.