May 29 2016
‘Thank’s Lads…’
‘The guitar on the wall belonged to the brother who got it from Santy. I somehow managed to figure out how to play “These Boots are made for Walkin” on one string of that guitar, I was 13 years old at the time. One time on my way home from the shops for the Ma’ I saw a group of lads standing on the corner of Fassaugh Avenue and Killala Road and they all had guitars. I stood near them and listened as they played ‘”The House of the Rising Sun”. I can tell you now that I was hooked straightaway and knew that I wanted to be able to play the brother’s guitar like these lads. One of them called me over “Here Coffeyer, did you ever see one of these before”? I told him I had one and that I could play it. He sent me home to get it and that was the beginning of a life-long love affair with me and music. The lads took me in as one of their own and taught me how to play chords and how to tune the guitar. It was a whole new world for me and especially when I was standing in front of our Dressing-table mirror thinking I was Cliff Richard. Eventually I got my first guitar in Clery’s for 5 pounds which I had borrowed from the newly formed Cabra West Credit Union at 2/6d a week. I used to love playing the brother’s records on his new record player up in our bedroom with the cord being plugged into the light socket because we had no proper electrical sockets up stairs. I’d be trying to figure out what chords the band was playing and that and then try them out on my own guitar. Sure even when I went to Finbar’s Hall on a Friday night I always brought a pencil and paper with me and I’d be watching to see what way the group were playing various songs and then I’d scribble it down for later on when I got home. Sometimes I used to bring the guitar into the toilet and sit there practising, it was the only room in the house where I could get time to myself. So now, fifty years on and I’m still standing in front of the mirror playing my guitar but it’s not Cliff Richard or Elvis Presley that I see looking out at me but some “Oul Fella” staring back at me. Now, he looks familiar but I’m not too sure who he is. I’ll have to ask the brother…’