AFTER three idyllic years working at the Towers Hotel trekking centre in Glenbeigh, Monica Flanagan had a phonecall out of the blue. It was from an American lady named Vikkie Genêt, who she had worked for at her racing yard back home in Sligo.

“She said ‘Would you consider working in Italy?’ I said I would.” The following day Monica drove to Roscommon Races to meet an Italian gentleman who owned several Irish broodmares in the south of Italy.

“His name was Corrado Strada and he was Professor of Radiology at the University of Bari. The interview went like this: ‘You come, you like, you stay. You come, you no like, I pay you go home again’. I was told, and told repeatedly, not to go. Bari, I was told, was the arsehole of Italy. So I went.”

First, there was a stopover in London in September 1972 to see The Dubliners in the play Richard’s Cork Leg. “Its run was short-lived but Ronnie [Drew] and the boys put their hearts and souls into it just like they did with all of their gigs.”

Monica flew to Bari, via Rome, where she was met by Vikkie, her daughter Mimi and the Professor. “We stayed overnight in Bari and in the morning, the Professor and I set out for Marina di Ginosa which is down on the Ionian Sea. It was then a tiny little town.

“The farm consisted of one very large field, grass all dried-up, 10 newly-built stables and a house under construction. I was told I would be staying in my boss’s hotel in the town until the house was finished.

“The stock were dejected, all of them. Five in-foal mares, two foals, a three-year-old and a two-year-old, all lovely old Irish lines. Welcome to Centro Ippico La Noria! And me without a word of Italian and a little Fiat Cinque Cento, with mares and foals pictured on either side of it, to drive.

‘I can’t shoot’

“When I did get to move into my house, I remember standing outside that first night, revolving 360 degrees and realising there wasn’t a light to be seen.

There was no phone, no vet on call but I was given a box full of bandages, medicines, syringes and a thermometer. And a gun for my protection.

“I was also given a Belgian sheepdog called Nero, who was chained to a pole and had a sheet of galvanise to shade him from the sun. I was told he was not to be unchained so I unchained him. He was divine and he protected me. Besides, I can’t shoot.”

Monica set about improving the farm by filling in a stagnant pond, dividing the field into six paddocks and fashioning a makeshift roller from an old cement mixer for the horses’ oats.

“I also fed them a sort of grass mixture until I could get horse feed from Rome. The horses were stabled during the heat and let out at night. They began to buck and play in the paddocks, put on weight and were joyful.”

So much for the horses’ improved conditions but how did Monica cope with the move? “I found a person to teach me Italian but I was disgustingly homesick. I had been in Italy for three whole weeks before a letter arrived from my mother.

“Once the letters started an even flow, I felt better. I considered going home but knew my mother would put me on the next plane with the instructions ‘Give it a proper try – six months at least.’”

Before the digital era, she found another way to keep updated on the home scene. “[Editor] Val Lamb sent me a copy of The Irish Field each week and I got to read it three weeks later!”

La Dolce Vita

Returning back to Italy in the New Year, after her generous boss gave her a plane ticket home for Christmas, Monica settled in to her new life. “I began to feel truly happy with my lot. I cared for my mares and their foaling, took them to the stud in Foggia to be covered and broke a young mare called Umbra.”

Another breakthrough was a new instructor. “Umbra and I were taught by Nino Binetti. He was an amazing teacher who swore by the Caprilli method. I adapted quickly and learned more in those few months than ever before, Umbra did the same. It all made such sense.”

The goal that year for Monica and Umbra was Il Premio Allevamento. “Or the ‘Breeders Prize’. Prospective jumpers foaled in Italy were eligible for this national competition held near Rome each November. Horses then could not jump in competitions until they were five.”

Having jumped hors concours at one show in preparation, the pair were ready. “She was just lovely,” Monica said, recalling their trial run. The truck, with Umbra and the little Fiat run around on board, set off towards Rome to nearby Tor di Quinto, the site of the famous Italian cavalry school where the Il Premio Allevamento was held.

“I was scared and Corrado was so worried about me that he asked Nino to take his gear with him, so he could compete if I lost my cool. That settled me. The competition was run in two sections; how the horse rode and how they jumped.

“Umbra rode very sweetly for me and jumped a lovely clear round. There were over 200 competitors and we came 14th, I think. People stared as us in amazement because it was a fact that no young jumping horses ever came from the Puglia region,” Monica said about her mare from the so-called backwater.

An added bonus was meeting an iconic figure. “Piero D’Inzeo knew Nino well and came to see us afterwards, he was such a gentleman and so complimentary.

“I was always given the month of August off because it was just too hot to work. Corrado hired people to look after the horses in my absence and Nino and his son came to Ireland and went to the Dublin Horse Show. He was thrilled, especially with the pony jumping.”

Back in Italy, Monica travelled the circuit “along the beautiful south going from show to show,” before a sequence of sad events. “Umbra got sold and then in January, Nino died very quickly from cancer. He was 42.”

In 1975, she moved to a new job north of Rome. “I hunted with the Rome Foxhounds and prepared young horses for the Premio Allevamento. Being close to Rome was a big change. I met loads of new and interesting people, could speak Italian well and felt very much at home,” she said about her Italian ‘Glenbeigh’.

Then a letter arrived from her sister, “telling me that I would have to come home and look after my mother who wasn’t well. It was thought she wouldn’t survive but she did and lived to be 92.”

Next stop, Galway

Monica turned down a job outside Milan to stay in Ireland and instead went to work at Rockmount Riding Centre for John Moore.

“I was there during Tony Cox’s reign and worked with Mirka Urbanc and Orla Dwyer and had the pleasure of teaching people like David Moore, Paul Duffy and Charles and Cormac Hanley senior. My real enjoyment lay in teaching adult beginners because I knew that I knew more than they did!

“It was at Rockmount that I first Brid and the late Paul Duffy senior, the two people who really made my time in Galway.

"The phone call would come in the evening and Brid would ask if I had food ready for myself and if I hadn’t, up to Briarhill, eat my fill and enjoy the company of the two Pauls, Brid, Audrey, Brendan and Mark.

“When the children had gone to bed, we would sit up until all hours talking horses and show jumping.”

Even having her appendix removed didn’t deter her from going AWOL from hospital to watch Paul junior compete at Millstreet. “Paul won and in the evening, set out on the trip back to Galway. We hit a bump in the road at speed and I had to go back to hospital to get my stitches mended.

“I left Rockmount to marry Ollie in 1977. I had known him slightly when I started going to shows. My friends and I used to call him Brian Boru because of his beard. I re-met him at a horse sales in Galway during my time in Rockmount and things moved swiftly on from there.”

First lady

Having settled in Crossmolina, Monica became involved with Show Jumping Ireland, or the SJAI as it was then. “In 1984, I became the first woman to chair the Connaught Region show jumping committee. There was quite a mixed reaction and a bit of horror.

“Cormac Hanley Snr was my secretary. For a few years the late Sean Campbell and I played musical chairs with the position. I am of the belief that rules should be adhered to and I got a lot of unpleasant stick for that.

“I occasionally read through the letters I got which were not nice. It’s a grounding thing! I had a great fondness for Lord Lowry, who was my champion throughout. His letters and his belief in me helped me through.”

Later, as her children grew up and on the recommendation of her friend Cherie Devaney, she took a summer job running a trekking centre in Bundoran for Pat Geagan.

“I came home on Saturday nights and returned again on Tuesday mornings early. I was never there on Sundays so I assumed no one knew what faith I was.”

Until her fondness for live music unmasked her. “I asked Pat if she’d come with me to the local and very famous IRA pub. I love Irish rebel songs with a passion and knew I could be assured of some if I went there. The place was packed to capacity and the walls were hung with violence-inducing t-shirt inscriptions. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before, the music and singing was fantastic.”

With an early start the following morning, Monica passed a song request for A Nation Once Again through the crowd to the Master of Ceremonies.

“He took a look at the piece of paper and then explained that song was always played at the end of the night. However, because it was I who had requested it and because so many Protestants, like Wolfe Tone and Robert Emmett, had been so important to the IRA he was prepared to have it sung early.

“I slithered down in my chair as people turned to take full stock of me – but they sang A Nation Once Again with such power that I will never forget it!”

Another testing time lay ahead. “I think it was in 2000 I broke my back – last thorax and first lumbar down the centre – in a fall off a lovely thoroughbred mare of Ollie’s. She was a quiet, gentle saint of a mare. Then one morning Ollie legged me up onto her and she exploded in the yard.

“I hit a high concrete wall before I hit the ground. She lay down and died about a week later. I bear her no ill will. It happened and it was not her fault but I knew my current life was over.”

Developing a talent

During her six months spent in plaster, Monica came up with a Plan B. “Positivity is a fine thing and I considered photography, because I knew I wouldn’t ride any more.

“So I kept my friends, my show-going and my acquaintance with horses by taking photographs. The Irish Field and local Connaught newspapers used them, they also used my reports on the Connaught League and I had a website where I sold photographs.

“To put my share in the money pot I did lots of jobs while the children were growing up, including collecting money for Rehab. I’ve now retired from everything and love it. Every day is full.”

And she is back in the saddle, thanks to a 70th birthday gift from Liz Hodgins of a Connemara pony. “She asked me if I would ride him. I truthfully replied that I didn’t know. He’s called Jack. A few weeks went by while Jack and I weighed each other up, then I gingerly climbed aboard and away we went hacking.

“His reverse was excellent and he would carry on reversing in a straight line for yards. One day I decided that I would reverse him all the way home. He begged me to stop but I was relentless. I didn’t have to do that twice. He gave in, said ‘Sorry’ and we’ve been friends ever since.

“My granddaughter Rhia and I share him now. When it came to cantering, I decided I would ask Philip Scott for help. He made the two of us sit up and away we cantered in the gentlest way possible. Philip made our equestrian lives complete!”

At 72 years young, Monica returned to education when she enrolled at Westport College of Further Education to do a Level 6 Photography course. It was an experience she describes as “hilarious and lovely to work surrounded by a great group of young people who accepted me and helped me along.

“I was lonely to leave them at the end. My graduation made me realise I’d been a total fool that I didn’t go back to Trinity and start a solely English degree.

“My work camera got too heavy for me to carry so I changed to a mirrorless Fuji camera with many assorted lenses. I don’t concentrate solely on equine photography anymore but anything that takes my fancy.

“A year ago I joined a Camera Club which meets once a month. Sadly, that is a little curtailed at present but that too will pass and we continue our meetings with Zoom.”

Travel bug

Travel is grounded too with Covid-19 although with her optimistic nature, there are future plans. “I stayed firmly in Mayo for 12 years before taking my first foreign holiday. Then I got adventurous and visited Mirka, [ex-Rockmount] in South Africa twice, China, Mexico with my friend Maureen Dowling and her two children, Tunisia, the Canaries, Morocco, Germany, Denmark, Hungary, Czech Republic, Romania and Transylvania.

“I also took a few trips to California to visit my friend George O’Malley, who was working there,” she said, recalling visits where she was met at LAX airport by George, with her suitcase then squashed into the back seat of his Ford Mustang before they went exploring the Golden State’s scenery and architecture.

“I love to travel and seriously want to go to the Galapagos Islands – I even allow myself to dream of returning to Monterrey and the Pacific Highway with George!”

As in any authentic story, there’s both light and shade in her recollections, such as the time she returned to southern Italy. “I did go back once to see Corrado but it was very depressing and his head was not in a good place. He gave me a book of short stories he had written and one of them was about me. I never saw him again. Some years later, all the La Noria horses were stolen and were never seen again. I was told it was a Mafia job.”

Family life is centremost. “We have two sons, John-Luke and Henry; two lovely daughters-in-law; Samara and Aishling and blessed with four much-loved grandchildren; Donnacha (7) and Kyna (5), then Rhia (11) and Odhran (7).

“I am proud of our sons, who are good, kind men like their father and are close to us. Ollie has let me forge ahead with my life and I really appreciate that. We’ve a divine view of Nephin mountain from our front door, great neighbours and loads to look forward to. We’ve far too many horses, (but still continue breeding them!), too many dogs and too many cats.”

Did Sligo-born Monica watch Normal People, recently shown on RTE? “Yes, loved it,” she replied instantly. And what did she think of the ambiguous ending for its main characters, Connell and Marianne?

“They were very good for one another but would they have stayed together? No, they had run their course and would move on, just as life does,” added this extraordinary and far-seeing character, whose own life story could well be another bestseller.