Jun 17 2015
‘Are you going up to the Baths…’
‘Sure isn’t this the time of year when gangs of kids used to converge on the Cabra Baths. And there’d they’d be all walking and laughing going over Broombridge with a piece of the Da’s shirt or maybe a bit of an oul bedsheet tucked under their arm and wrapped around their swimming knicks, if they were lucky enough to have such things. Others had nothing and would often jump off Broomer into the canal in their nude and run up and down the towpath to get themselves dry. And there’d be all the girls galloping across the fields to see who would be first into the Silver Spoon.
Some of them would bring up a lemonade bottle full of water and a few slices of Batch Loaf bread with homemade jam on it. The lads would sometimes wear their S Belt around their knicks so that it wouldn’t be robbed. Sure you could hear the roars of them a mile away and the smell of the old disinfectant was everywhere and burning the eyes out of you. But wasn’t it great all the same.
We’d stay there all day getting in and out of the water, playing chasing and things. ‘Here, you’re on it…’ Splash, Splash, dive, dive…’Here, can you do the submarine…’ and on it would go all day long. And a Young One in the Silver Spoon would scream if a Minnow swam in between her toes…’Carmel there’s a Minnow at me toe’…’Catch him with your stockin’ and bring him home why don’t you…’ ? Sure the craic was priceless and the cost was free. Sure where would you get it…?