Cabra History.Com

‘And there I was strolling along Fassaugh Avenue, minding my own business with a Batch Loaf in one hand and a half pound of Margarine in the other when I heard almighty screaming and shouting. As I turned around our corner onto Killala Road I could see at least fifty young lads playing a game of football in the roundabout. Well the roars and screams out of them as they all chased after a burst football around the field was almighty, sure Dalymount Park had nothing on them. Across the road I saw Tango Flood talking to Marie Keegan while Ambrose and Noelie O’Shea were playing marbles outside their own gate. And there was Ould Mister and Misses Casey sitting in their car, he was having a read of the paper while she sat there clanking away with her knitting needles. Davey Paget was sitting on his gate with a cigarette butt in the corner of his mouth talking to Sandra Boyle whose mother had a shop van. Out in the middle of the road there was a gang of Young Ones playing skipping…’Look at whose coming down the street…’. They were all lined up in a queue waiting their turn to run in and do a double rope skip. One of them had her hair in wringlets while most of them had great big ribbons in their hair. ‘It’s her turn on the rope…’. Down past Mrs Merton’s house and she selling seaside rock out of her parlour window. Behind me I could hear Mister Hanley playing the piano in his parlour and he singing ‘The Laughing Policeman’. Across the road and sitting on the roundabout wall drinking mugs of tea was Mrs Geoghan and Mrs Sherry. Good old Mrs Byrne was busy cleaning her windows as she whistled away to her hearts content while her husband Joe looked on. And sure theres young Leo Lalor and Austin Douglas having a game of wrestling right on the footpath in front of me. ‘Let me step around you there lads’. On the far side of the roundabout I could see Mrs Norton holding a baby in her arms as she sat on the wall talking with Lottie Farrell and Mrs O’Leary. And there’s ould Granny McCormac out sweeping down her footpath. ‘Get down to your own gate young Coffey’ she snarls at me. There was good ould Jemmy Hayes fixing the chain on a young lads bike while a crowd of little fellas stood around watching. And there’s Phyllis White and Valerie Power pushing a pram with three little ones sitting in it under all of the messages. It’s then I notice Mrs Mahon from Lower Ratoath Road selling the fish outside our house. She has this great big basket on wheels full of Mackeral and Herrings. On top of the basket she has a breadboard as her worktop where she’s gutting the poor fish whose great big eyes are looking at me. ‘Here, don’t look at me, there’s nothing I can do for you..’ Finally I arrive home and the Ma’ says ‘Where did you go for the bread, was it off to Timbucktoo or what’? I went back out and sat on our gate mith my pal Willie Kavanagh to watch my sisters and their pals playing Piggy Beds. Then I woke up…but I tried my level best to go back to sleep and stay in that childhood world of family, friends and neighbours where I didn’t have a worry or a care…’