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St. Conleth's College 75 Year Quinquennial 2014

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St. Conleth's College

1939 - 2014

Paul Mullins and Peter Gallagher on an '80s class trip to Amsterdam

which looked like it hadn’t seen a safety certificate in a

decade. Reaching the hotel where my contact was staying,

I waited two days before being allowed to meet him, and

that was only because he was leaving the hotel with his

entourage of staff and I, literally, ‘met’ him on the steps of

the hotel before he stepped into his limousine. I politely

reintroduced myself and mentioned our meeting, about

which he had already forgotten, but somehow obtained his

approval, there and then, for what I needed. Our meeting,

which took five days to arrange, ended within five minutes.

He was in his limousine driving away and I was trying to

keep the dust cloud from his limousine from clogging my

lungs. But I had received the ‘go-ahead’ and my event

proceeded the following year in Tanzania as planned.

This kind of determination is partly as a result of this

‘strength of character’ that St. Conleth’s produces in its

pupils, and so for that I am sincerely grateful and would

have no hesitation in sending my children to St. Conleth’s,

if I were living in Dublin. I can already hear a sigh of relief

from Mr. Kelleher!

I would like to take this opportunity to dedicate this

article to a man whom I loved and had the privilege to

know as my uncle – Louis Feutren, who taught French at

St. Conleth’s for many years, and who consistently delivered

both outstanding academic results for the school and

memorable classes for his many students.

St. Conleth’s in the 1980s

– The USSR and Steve Jobs

Tomás Clancy, class of 1982

The train plunged on through the endless, dark, snowfilled

forest. Every thirty minutes or so, the train

screamed through a tiny station, a refugee from a

Chekhov play, illuminated by small intense lights. They

were all a blur of gold hammer and sickle, luscious red

banners and flags and impeccable flowerbeds. Standing

out in the cold Russian winter was a station guard, saluting.

The night train from a city that no longer exists to

the heart of the Soviet Empire was packed with workers

with endlessly checked transit visas, Soviet troops, hardworking

women pushing giant four-foot- high scalding

water canteens and … a mass of pupils from St. Conleth’s

and their teachers!

The Fall of the Wall, and the eventual collapse of the

Soviet Union, was nine years, and a totally unimaginable

distance into the future. Looking back now, I think

I am filled with increasing wonder and enormous admiration

for the decision-making at St. Conleth’s. Over

three decades on from the date, at the time of writing

this, the visit seems like an inspired dream, but it

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