‘I’ve found happiness only in recent years, after a protracted battle with alcoholism’

I would consider myself very understanding and very agreeable. It would take a great deal to upset that demeanour of agreeability.
My middle name is Noel. I was christened Edward Noel Cunningham. Alas, when I went to national school, I unfortunately was in the position of having my name abbreviated. I suddenly became Ted or Ed – anything but Edward. So being the diva that I am – even in those early days – I came home and asked my mother if she would kindly go to Master Breslin to change the roll in the school, so that I could henceforth be called Noel.
In the past, local people from my area did a pilgrimage to the peak of Slieve League. They walked up the pilgrim’s path, fasting from midnight. There, they heard Mass at the ruins of the old church, and afterwards they walked back down the mountain, maybe not reaching their homes until two or three in the afternoon. That’s my favourite place because when I walk that pilgrim’s path, as I do regularly, I can almost hear those people reciting the holy rosary as they would have all those years ago. It’s an intensely spiritual place.
Kind, generous, tetchy.
I probably never get really angry, and if I do it’s a very controlled anger. I suppose what causes a certain anger at this point in my life is man’s inhumanity to man. And the awful almost-acceptance of the despots who are bringing such misery to so many poor people, men, women and children, in places like Gaza, Ukraine and elsewhere. And yet we stand back and are almost immune to it.
If I could just have 24 hours with my beloved sister Marie who was tragically killed in a car accident with her beloved husband, I would be the happiest man on earth. Just 24 hours together to go back and say things that I should have said before she was so cruelly taken.
Getting up very early in the morning and going on the mail van to a certain point after which we would walk to my uncle’s house and spend a few hours there before strolling down to school with my cousins. My mother took my late sister Marie and I out of our local school because she wanted us to be immersed in a Gaeltacht school.
I’m in the middle and I always felt a little bit hard done by. I felt that my older sister Marie and my older brother Jimmy, who is also deceased, got a better hearing. I felt somehow neglected. Looking back, I realise it’s probably because my mother and father thought it probably wasn’t a good idea to wear pink taffeta to primary school.
I have absolutely no doubt, having lived, at times, tormented by the perceived notion that being gay is both sinful and evil, that my God is a forgiving loving God. And when I arrive at those gates, I will be embraced warmly and taken through and I will meet my beloved family and friends again. And it will be a place of immense peace and contentment. I will walk in a beautiful garden.
I am only finding happiness in recent years, since I got the gift of sobriety after a long, protracted battle with alcoholism. I am a recovering alcoholic and I can probably say, for the first time in 55 years, that I am now at my happiest, in sobriety, on a programme and full of gratitude for getting my life back. That came perilously close to not happening.
Probably Colin Farrell. They can do marvellous things with ageing people now.
As part of my programme and for my peace of mind, I made a conscious decision to no longer consider regrets, because I can absolutely do nothing about them. The many regrets that are a result of drinking, or as a result of bad decisions, or as a result of being overlooked because I was gay, could very much consume me. So, I had to make a decision to park those and not consider them any longer.
I’m a bit quirky in terms of the house and I find myself doing things that I used to be critical of my mother doing. Things like straightening cushions, and lining up my shoes in the correct way, and having a certain style in terms of dress that I adhere to.