I can remember a good friend of mine - The late Dave Smith, of Wheal Gorland fame - telling me tales of when he worked a ta barite mine somewhere in Southern? Ireland. The name sounded like Conner Kilty but is probably spelled, and pronounced, very differently.
One occasion they had boarded the cage ready to start the morning shift, rang the signal and got nothing. Repeating it several times didn't change things. Dave went over to the winder house to find no driver. A search of the mine showed he had not clocked on and so a delegation went off into the village to find him. He had been out on the tiles the night before and had over slept. Banging on the door of his cottage they still couldn't raise him. Borrowing a ladder they climbed in through his bedroom window and turfed him out of bed. Needless to say they were greeted with a hail of abuse as he was manhandled, still dressed from the previous night, down the stairs and outside much to the neighbours amusement.
More trouble ensued some weeks later at the end of the shift with all in the cage, and again the bell signal wasn't acknowledged. Dave climbed the ladderway to the surface and marched into the winder house to find the winder driver out cold on the floor and reeking of whiskey. Efforts to revive him came to nothing and Dave ended up busking the controls to get the guys up to surface. True or apocryphal, these stories were certainly entertaining.
I just wish I could remember some of the other tales he had about that place.
It would be nice to hear from our Irish explorers and what they are up to.
"You Chinese think of everything!"
"But I''m not Chinese!"
"Then you must have forgotten something!"