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 "Noel," said Nancy, a firmness in her voice I hadn’t heard since she barged in at half-time in the four-in-a-row county final, and gave us a full, solid blinding and one of the best team-talks I have ever heard, outside of my own.
"We can’t say No. It would be a huge disappointment if we didn’t show our faces. There’s just no way the hall committee can publish a nude calendar without the two of us on it. We better just go along with it." And then, tenderly: "You know that yourself, love, better than anyone." She was right. I knew she was right. She knew she was right. She knew I knew she was right. Right so, I said, and, accordingly, Tuesday night, we shifted self-consciously on my feet in the Canon Con Concannon Memorial Hall – the first couple to be photographed. As luck would have it, the heating system was giving trouble, but the photographer was determined to press on. "Come, come, Noel," he started, "a little further out from behind the shrubbery. That’s better. Just lean your right elbow on that hurley stick thingy. Very good." It was positively chilly at this stage. I wasn’t warming to the whole enterprise. "Such a night to be at it," I remarked, "and all the fine evenings we had, and no nude photography sessions at all taking place. Typical." The photographer was un-moved. "Pout now, Noel. Curl that tash a bit more. Lovely. Oh, very good. Excellent, Noel. You’re a right little performer when you put your mind to it. "Turn your head this way {he had me in a very firm grip}, but face your eyes that way, and bend about 30 degrees forward. Lovely." I was far from comfortable with it all. Nancy, meanwhile, was arranged on an elegant chaise longue, her modesty preserved by a beach towel and the Feelgood section of the Irish Examiner. She was remarkably composed. "Nancy, Nancy, let’s have you biting harder on that rose. More attitude, Nancy. I hear you can be a real tough lady when you want. Do bitch, Nancy," he instructed. She never flinched. "Oh, lovely, Nance. You’ve nailed it, brilliant," continued Jon (no ‘h’ he emphasised when I said I would be giving The Bare All For Ballybore a mention in the local notes to help the fund-raising.) "Chin up you, Noel. Now, just once, pull up the braces again and tuck your thumbs inside. Not you, Nancy, just Noel. A little more chest, Noel. A little less, Nance. "Wonderful. That’s a wrap. Thank you so much. You’ve been such sweethearts." He kissed Nancy on the lips and made towards me, too, but I left him in no doubt that, where I come from, photography is a non-contact sport. "I don’t know why people said I should treat you gingerly – you were both perfect darlings," he concluded. We waited the rest of the evening to give the others a morale boost. Miriam O’Callaghan cancelled at the last moment in solidarity with the Cork hurlers, and so he had to pair Trevor Welch with Cormac McConnell. "They’ll do for October, a dour old month" said the photographer, "and we’ll let Liz Howard carry June on her own. That’s a busy time for the Camogie girls, isn’t it?" There was a frisson of tension when the running order confused Jan O’Sullivan with Jimmo for July, while the adventurous March effort – Tony Doran with a calf under each arm, and another wrapped around his neck like a cravat – only came together after some frantic herding. At my suggestion, the Parish Priest and the local Church of Ireland rector were pencilled in for December. "We have to move with the times," I said. All in all, it was a marvellous success, despite my early misgivings. They want me to launch it on my radio programme in a couple of weeks, and we will be doing signings at selected swimming pools around the county. "It was a mighty night, Noel," said Nancy, as we did a bit of free-taking practice out the back before retiring, "it really brought the community together. Broke down barriers, you know." And, with a glint in her eye I hadn’t seen shine quite so brightly since the night of the four-in-a-row county final, she added: "And, you know what Noel, it reminded me all over again why I fell in love with you in the first place, all those years ago. You’re still a fine cut of a man." I blushed. "And so are you, Nancy," I replied, "so are you." She can still melt me with her charm when she puts her mind to it. Noel always win his own duel. If only everyone did he same. Email him at
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