Nov 16 2019

‘A little walk and a talk…’

Published by at 4:20 pm under News

‘I took a walk up along the canal and had a great chat with meself…’

we talked endlessly about all the pals we remembered from over the years, the teachers we had in school, the food we ate, what we drank as kids, the games we played, the neighbours we had, the dogs we had, what we wore, the kind of house we lived in, all our brothers and sisters, the second-hand shoes we wore, the hand-me-down clothes we wore, people who died, the neighbours out fighting, the da’ fixing a bicycle puncture in the kitchen, the ma’ hanging out the washing, the clubs we joined, our days spent up in the phoenix park, robbing orchards, telling lies in Confession, women hanging over the railings having a chat, picking blackberries, help the halloween party, what did you get for christmas, bent nails and rusty screws, two dogs stuck together, the cattle market, funerals on our road, the ragman, the slop man, new babies, people going to england to work, the milkman, the priests in our parish, the holy nun’s in school, making slides in winter, collecting turf, the may procession, the corpus christi parade, schoolbags, mitching, kittens in a sack, dead dogs, the sister’s dolls and pram, smoking behind the da’s shed, collecting jam jars and old newspapers, swimming in the canal, throwing stones at the trains, bonfires, how many easter eggs did you get, the stew house, bicycles with no tyres, me granny, scutting on lorries, playing nick nack on doors, where babies came from, girls playing skipping and piggy beds, the sisters playing shop with the broken chainie, going to the picture, my pal who broke his leg in the playground, venetian blinds, net curtains, coats on the bed, christmas pudding hanging up in a pillow case, washing clothes in the bath, the pawn shop, holy communion, going to mass, hoppers in the bed, making toast at the fire, wearing stockings in bed, a plate of coddle, a bowl of stew, cloth nappies boiling on the gas stove, babies soothers, syrup of figs, the young one with the patch on one side of her glasses, our birthday, the sunshine home in balbriggan, a day in dollymount, dodging our bus fare, chasing girls, playing cowboys and indians, a burst football, playing football on the road, hoola hoops, making our own swords for a fight, making a snowman, pushing each other on a trolley with real ball bearing wheels, going to see someone laid out dead, getting slapped in school, sodality, getting knocked down by a car, going into woolworth’s, santy clause, the playground, playing conkers, first holy communion, a boil on our neck, getting washed in the kitchen sink, getting a chase, red rover red rover, fights with other kids, bread and jam, piggy beds, going out to bray on the train, stingers in a field, silver paper for the black babies, the moving crib…

Now these are just a few of the things I talk to meself about when I’m on a walk on me own…’

This is me at three years of age. Taken in our back yard in Cabra West. This was around the time that I was taken into hospital for a “Little Boy’s” operation. I remember standing in our kitchen with my mother holding my hand, my sister Vera standing next to me holding a “Potty” out for me to try and pee into. My other sister, Chrissie was standing on a chair by the kitchen sink with the water tap on trying to encourage me to pee. My father brought me to Temple Street Hospital on the cross-bar of his bike to have it sorte out.

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