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AN IRISH COUNTRY DOCTOR by Patrick Taylor The time is the early 1960s. The place is a tiny village in Northern Ireland. And the tale is pure magic. Newly minted physician Barry Laverty is looking for a job-and love, if he can find it. Lucky for him he finds his way to little Ballybucklebo, where a blustery country GP will take him under his intimidating wing, and romance is waiting just a train stop away. A heartwarming story reminiscent of the best of James Herriot. |
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Excerpt from Select Editions' AN IRISH COUNTRY DOCTOR
Most of his graduating classmates from the medical school of the Queen's University of Belfast had clear plans for their careers. But he hadn't a clue. General practice? Specialize? And if so, which specialty? Barry shrugged. He was twenty-four, single, no responsibilities. He knew he had all the time in the world to think about his medical future, but his immediate prospects might not be bright if he were late for his five-o'clock appointment. And though finding a direction for his life might be important, his most pressing need was to earn enough to pay off the loan on the car. He scowled at the map and retraced the road he had traveled from Belfast. The Six Road Ends lay near the margin of the paper. No Ballybucklebo in sight. What to do? He looked up, and as he did, he glimpsed himself in the rearview mirror. Blue eyes looked back at him from a clean-shaven oval face. His tie was askew. He understood the importance of first impressions and did not want to look scruffy. He tugged the tie back into place, then tried to smooth down the cowlick on the crown of his fair hair, but up it popped. He shrugged. It would just have to stay that way. At least his hair was cut short, not like the style affected by that new musical group, the Beatles. Perhaps, he thought, there would be a signpost at the junction. He got out of the vehicle, and the springs creaked. Brunhilde, as he called his car, was protesting about the weight of his worldly goods: two suitcases-one with his meager wardrobe, the other crammed with medical texts; a doctor's medical bag tucked under the VW's hood; and a fly rod, creel, and hip waders lying in the backseat. He walked to the junction and looked around to find a grave deficiency of signposts. Maybe Ballybucklebo is like Brigadoon, he thought, and only appears for one day every hundred years. He walked back to the car in the warmth of the Ulster afternoon, breathing in the gorse's perfume from the fields at either side of the road. He heard the liquid notes of a blackbird hiding in the fuchsia that grew wild in the hedgerow, the flowers drooping purple and scarlet in the summer air. Barry savored the moment. He might be unclear about what his future held, but one thing was certain. Nothing could ever persuade him that there was anywhere he would choose to live other than here in Northern Ireland. |
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PATRICK Taylor, MD, was born
and raised in Northern Ireland.
An Irish Country Doctor is based
on journals he kept of his early
days as a doctor in rural Ireland.
In 1970, he and his family left Ireland
for Canada, where he still resides,
though he is contemplating
a return to his native County
Down. Now retired, Dr. Taylor
devotes his time to writing, sailing,
and enjoying Irish cuisine.We recently interviewed Dr. Taylor about his life and career. SELECT EDITIONS: How did your career as a doctor begin? PATRICK TAYLOR: I graduated in Belfast in 1964 and, after a year as a houseman [intern], studied anatomy while working weekends, evenings, and holidays as a supply doctor in rural practices to make ends meet. I loved general practice and applied for a job in England. Unfortunately, they were looking for someone with experience in midwifery, so I went to Glasgow to get the experience, fell in love with obstetrics, and went back to Ireland to train in obstetrics and gynecology. I continued to make ends meet by "moonlighting" as a rural GP- and those were the years that inspired An Irish Country Doctor. SE: Do you miss Ireland? PT: I miss the Ireland I knew, that's why I try to re-create it. It was a simpler, quieter place than it is now. SE: Tell us about Ballybucklebo, the setting of your novel. PT: The setting is a fictional village, the name of which came from my high-school French teacher who, enraged by my inability to conjugate irregular verbs, yelled, "Taylor, you're stupid enough to come from Ballybucklebo." Bally (Irish, b a i l e) is a townland, Buachaill means "boy," and bo is a cow. In Bailebuchaillbo, or Ballybucklebo-the townland of the boy's cow-time and place are as skewed as they are in Brigadoon. SE: What do you do to relax? PT: There's a pub on the island where I live that's small and cozy. When I finish work each day at about 3 p.m., I walk the mile and a half downhill to the pub to meet the same coterie of people, so there's always good conversation to be had. Then I walk the mile and a half uphill back home. The exercise just about negates the beer calories and stops me getting too tall around! 
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