Cabra History.Com

‘Will we ever forget the happy days we spent as young children running up and down on Dollymount Strand in our nude to get ourselves dry? We hadn’t a care in the world and we were totally unaware of the cares and worries of our poor Ma’ and Da’ who did their best to provide for us in every way that they could. Splashing in the pools of water left behind by the Tide that was always miles away, jumping up and down to see who could make the biggest splash of all. And we all had a role to play in getting there, the poor Ma’ and Da’ carried the bulk of the stuff we needed, a teapot, papers and sticks for the fire, Lemonade bottles of water, tons of sambos with onions out of our garden in them, soggy tomatoes and black bananas, a blanket off the Ma’s bed to sit on and of course, a packet of Fags for the Da’ to smoke. And do you know the Da’ always wore his Sunday Suit, complete with collar and tie and the Ma’ with her lipstick on. We used to get a bus into town and then we’d have to walk out to Dollymount and passed all them big posh houses on Clontarf and the Da’ would always tell us a story about the German’s bombing the North Strand and how his Uncle was able to throw one of the bombs back up at the planes and knock them out of the sky. The Ma’ would tell us of when Fairview Park was once a part of the sea and how her Da’ and his pals used to go fishing there for sharks. Sure the stories were great and kept us entertained for ages and in next to no time at all sure we’d see off in the distance the old wooden bridge at Dollyer. And then there’d be this unmerciful roar out of the older brothers as they galloped off to see who would be first to reach the bridge and the Ma’ shouting after them to stop running in case they fell and hurt themselves. I’d always be last because I’d have to stop running to keep pulling up me stockings that kept slipping down me spindly little legs. You’d be afraid of your life crossing the wooden bridge in case you slipped and fell down between the timbers and was washed out to sea and was never seen again. But once we arrived on the beach we were home, that’s what the Da’ used to say, “We’re home at last”. And I can still see the older brothers running out to the water, if the Tide was still in that is, in their nude and splashing and screaming without a care in the world. The sun was always shining and the breeze was always cold and I’d be shivering trying to put my vest back on while I was taking off me older sister’s nickers that I had to wear instead of swimming nicks, the Ma’ used to twist them round my skinny little waist and secure them with a nappy pin to hold them up. Now, I can tell you that if I had that Time Machine that your man had in the Pictures years ago I’d be gone like a flash back to them days out on Dollymount Strand with the fambliy, I’d probably go back every Sunday because that’s when we used to be brought out after going to Mass. Dollyer, lost in a time of innocence…’