In the mid-forties I had been appointed Area Public Assistance Manager for one of the most deprived and impoverished regions of the six counties, that is, West Tyrone.
There, with a team of home visitors, I collected a vast library of case histories reflecting every agony suffered by a proud and downtrodden rural community in the bad old days.
For generations, the old, sick, blind, disabled and workless, had been left at the mercy of local 'Scrooges', termed Poor Law Guardians, who offered only the hospitality of the Poor House or a miserly few pence a week of Poor Law Relief, as a lifeline to those in dire need. (Which meant in reality the bulk of the population).
The Assistance Board empowered me to phase out the Poor Houses and Outdoor Relief, and provide a modest but permanent state allowance. Needless to say, most recipients were over the moon.
I was not a visiting officer, but when I read the appalling case histories of the worst examples of need imaginable, I made a point of personally calling on the clients to see for myself. And what an education that was.
Having grown up on a family farm and, as a boy, made mental notes of the fireside debate which took place on a winter's night, I left the social service with a deep knowledge of what makes Ulster folk tick, plus an appetite for local lore.
So much so that I set out with pen and tape to interview all the colourful local characters to be found around Lough Neagh's shore when I returned.
When I published my findings in a local paper I was swamped with feedback, and impelled to write a book immediately. The few publishers that I approached did not respond with any alacrity, so I determined to self-publish - a writer with fire in his belly.
The task I had set myself turned out to be daunting, but not unrealisable, and within months I was able to launch 'Memories of Old Lurgan', as my first title.
I personally wrote it, promoted it, and marketed it. Self-publishing is a very different ball game than writing, which I find fun. Very different skills and knowledge are needed. Happily I had developed these in the upper ranks of the Ministry of Commerce.
The media and the public were most receptive, enabling me to launch six books: 'Memories of Old Lurgan' (1987); 'Fireside Gleanings' (1988); 'Osier Culture and Basketmaking' (1991); 'Cregganconroe' (1995); 'Whipping The Cat' (1993); and 'Fly Men' (1998) 7000 copies all told.
On the way, since I reached the age of 70, I have amassed a significant collection of favourable reviews and made many friends. Commendations from Ben Kiely, Seamus Heaney, Michael Longley, Dr Bill Crawford, the late Cardinal O'Fiaich and Willie O'Kane, are but a few which adorn my 'VIP file'.
Willie O'Kane of 'Irish World', himself an author, summed me up in a blurb which he wrote for 'Fly Men':
"Pat Smyth chronicles the history and characters he has known in a long life lived around Lough Neagh's edge in Southwest Antrim. His eye and ear are tuned in to the richness of local speech, and he knows the fine points of a community where agriculture had played such an intimate role in people's lives.
This new collection of stories draws on his observation and his interest in the doings of others. Peopled by eccentrics, rogues and the occasional decent soul, the stories are brought to life by Pat's ability to put flesh on such characters.
Peppered with the dialect of Mid-Ulster, and replete with his knowledge of the customs and beliefs of his community, Pat Smyth's stories will enrapture all readers who value a trip down memory lane.
At times touching, there are also moments of unrestrained hilarity, as when the miserly Flyn May gets his comeuppance, or the snooty major pushes people too far. And for devotees of animal husbandry, 'The Goat's Kiss Of Life' will ensure that they look at this humble animal in an entirely new light.
So rejoice in Pat Smyth's industry and be thankful that his skills are still used in the service of local literature."
As a hobby and therapy I can highly recommend writing. I am still at it as a columnist, at the age of 85 years, and BBC Radio Ulster in particular has been a most valuable outlet.
My sole rule has been no four-letter words and no sex!
Patrick Smyth, Co. Armargh, 2002
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