On the way back from the Rolling Sun book festival in Westport on Tuesday morning, I had to drop a friend to Knock airport in time to catch the 9.40am flight to Alicante. They said in Westport that an hour before the flight would be plenty of time to arrive, or enough anyway. But after a late night, we were cutting it fine even for that.
It was 8.47am and getting sweaty when the first sight of airport lights loomed up ahead. And yet, never having seen the airport before, I had to marvel briefly at its location, on a hilltop bog halfway between Charlestown and nowhere.
The weather was damp and overcast, which reminded me that when Msgr James Horan first unveiled plans for the project in the early 19
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