O’Rourke plays James Anthony Lowry, an Offaly farmer and part-time council worker, who is here to talk to his dead son, the occupant of the older grave. It’s clear the boy died as a teenager; the last hurling match he played was at under-14s level. And soon we learn that the newer grave is that of the boy’s mother, Rose. We also learn that James has two daughters, who are still in secondary school. The grief, like the mother’s grave, is fresh.

O’Rourke unspools his story expertly, rationing out information to keep the audience hooked. He is a fine performer, and well within his skill set with this stuttery, unpolished but emotionally tuned-in farmer. The world of the village, with its ladies’ groups and quirky neighbours, is convincingly conjured into life. The careful setting with the rough headstones suggests that the graves are not in a graveyard and, as James Anthony’s tale unfolds, we learn the offbeat reason for this.

The unorthodox burials create a rich picture of the complex impulses of humans and what brings them comfort in times of grief. The deaths were as a result of pure misfortune, healthwise and accident-wise, and the play captures the bitter banality of ordinary tragedy. Unlucky men bury their teenage sons and their mid-life wives.

O’Rourke makes this his world feel utterly real. There is enough humour and quirkiness to counteract the morose subject matter, and the ending makes a big pull at the heart strings. However, playing with sentimentality is like playing with fire, and the mawkish finale left this cynical viewer feeling a bit singed, if not entirely burned.