The story of the photograph of

Spring and Dad telling me not to pick all the flowers from the same plant but to pick one or two flowers from each plant. I came home from these drives with little treasures for the nature table in school: a bird’s feather, a shell, a pine cone or maybe a nice twig with berries on it.

On Sundays in the summer we went further afield for the day. We might go to Greystones, Kilcoole, Avoca or even as far as Arklow where there was an outdoor swimming pool with a seating area and café. You could sit watching the swimmers and have lemonade and a Club Milk after your own swim. Sometimes there was a funfair in Arklow with swinging boats, chairplanes, a helter skelter and other amusements.

My family sang in the car to pass the time and make the journey go quicker. I remember we sang ‘Daisy, Daisy,’ ‘I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles,’ and ‘When Irish Eyes Are Shining,’ to name a few. Although when my brother Brian was learning to drive we didn’t sing as he had to concentrate on driving safely. When I was younger I sometimes lay down on my sister’s lap in the back of the car coming home and she made up fairy stories to tell me. I would be tired and falling asleep. As I got older, it wasn’t fairy stories I loved listening to but all the latest pop songs on Radio Luxembourg. I’d hear the top twenty hits on Sunday evening as we were driving home, my face glowing after having been out in the air all day.

Sometimes my friend Frances came with us on the picnic. She

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was two days younger than me and she lived in the next block in the flats to us. Like me, she was the youngest child in the family. Our mothers introduced us when we were three years old and we have been friends ever since. Frances was my first friend and we played together all the time when we were young. Sometimes her mother would give us some money to have a treat on our day out. We’d buy comics and sweets in Enniskerry on the journey. Is it my imagination or was the sun always shining then?

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The Primus Stove Instructions

Amazingly, today I found the instructions for the primus stove in the photos among my father’s papers. I don’t know how old it is but I see that it is made in Sweden.

The history of the primus started in central Stockholm in 1892 when F.W. Lindqvist and J.V. Svenson created the world’s first soot-free kerosene stove. As it was the first, they decided to call it primus. The efficient primus stove quickly earned a reputation as a reliable and durable stove in everyday use and it performed well under adverse conditions.

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The Wardrobe

I’m looking back at black and white photos to a time when, as a young child, I didn’t pay too much attention to clothes. It’s only now, as an adult, that all the details fascinate me. At that time, good clothes were kept up for Sunday best and special occasions. I used to wear a hat and little gloves to Mass on Sundays. During the week, Mam would wear a pinny or apron over her everyday clothes. I remember kneeling on the floor of the bedroom as a young child and rooting around in my parents’ wardrobe. I used to play with a fox fur stole that my father had given my mother as a wedding present. She wore it as part of her wedding outfit over a dove grey suit and an ivory silk blouse which she had bought in Madame Nora’s on O’Connell Street. Sometimes, when I was playing with the fox fur, my fingers would catch in its mouth and get pinched. Ouch! I was a little afraid of its beaded eyes. Before she got married, my mam worked as a punch card operator in the E.S.B. and Dad worked in the P and T. She told me that they had saved and saved before the wedding. They bought new furniture for the flat they were going to be living in. They got married at half past six in the morning in St Andrew’s Church, Westland Row on the 22nd of September

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1937 and had their wedding celebration in my grandparents’ flat in Upper Mount Street. The wedding ceremony took place early in the morning as they were going to Blackpool on their honeymoon and they had to catch the mail boat later that morning.

In the wardrobe there were also some lovely dresses and a pair of silver sandals that my mother had worn to dress dances she went to with my father in the Shelbourne Hotel. My sister and brother would also attend these dances. Looking at the photos of these occasions, they all looked so glamorous. One time my sister had some sparkle spray in her hair and she wore a tiara – something truly magical in the eyes of a young child! I was minded by our next door neighbours, Mr and Mrs Parkes, and would sleep over in their flat. I’d be hoping that my family would bring me home some party hats and blowers with feathers attached from the dress dance and I was never disappointed!

As my sister was seventeen years older than me, I didn’t get hand me downs. I remember going into town on the bus with Mam to buy new summer clothes. One time we went to Bolgers in North Earl Street where we chose three new dresses. We lived near South Great Georges Street and also shopped in Cassidy’s and Colette Modes. The Silk Mills in Dorset Street was somewhere to go to buy a good outfit for First Communion or Confirmation. The day I made my Confirmation was the day that Nelson’s Pillar was blown up on the 8th of March 1966.

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Marie, Brian and a smiling Ann on a boat to England

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Stylish Marie in 1955

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Welcome home letter

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On the envelope

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Ballet Photograph

This is a picture of my sister Marie, who was 18 years old when the photo was taken. The photo is in an old album belonging to Marie along with some newspaper cuttings and memorabilia connected with ballet. The title beside the photo reads, “Last Show, Dagg Hall, January 1957.” The Dagg Hall was in Westland Row, in the Royal Irish Academy of Music. Marie was a member of the Dublin Academy of Dance in Parnell Square, founded and run by Desmond Domican, who was himself a ballet dancer and actor. As a teenager, Marie went to ballet lessons with her friend Mairead and they both took part in many shows. Sometimes the ballet school joined forces with the Masque Theatre, of which their friend Sheila was a member, to put on musicals. After the last performance of one of these musicals – Oklahoma – the two groups had a big party to celebrate. At weekends in the summer, their group of friends would go out to Killiney for the day and have fun, sometimes even practising their dancing on the beach. There are lovely photographs in the album of these happy times! Marie really enjoyed dancing. In her leisure time she liked to go to the cinema or to a dance or

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sometimes to a céilí in the Mansion House on a Sunday evening.

At home we listened to music a lot and had a great collection of records including some old 78s. My family had a record club. We each put in sixpence every week and when enough money was saved, we took turns to buy a record. We ended up having a great mix of records, from musicals to Gilbert and Sullivan, the Beatles to the Dubliners and James Last to classical music and ballet. I used to play records at lunchtime when I came home from school and I would walk back to school with all kinds of music playing in my head.

At different times, both my father and my brother Brian played musical instruments in the Post Office Workers Band. In fact, my mother told me that she once attended a concert in the park that the band had been playing at and that was how she met my father! I remember Dad teaching me to play ‘Jingle Bells’ on my xylophone when I was young and I learned how to play the cello at national school. Marie and my mother both had good singing voices and sang at parties and family occasions. Marie’s party piece was ‘Honey Bun’ from South Pacific and ‘Sisters’ when she’d be singing with her friend Mairead. Marie was also in a folk dancing group. I loved dressing up in her costume especially at Halloween. It consisted of a brightly coloured skirt, a black velvet bodice with a white blouse underneath and black ballet pumps. Years later, I went to see Marie dancing yet again in a show in her local ladies’ club. A group of them did a tap-dancing routine complete with top hats and

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canes and were a big hit on the night.

As a child, I followed in Marie’s footsteps and attended Desmond Domican’s for ballet lessons. I remember going up the stairs of the house in Parnell Square on Saturday afternoons. I can even remember the smell of the polished furniture. For the lessons, the junior girls wore white tunics with blue sashes. I was excited to wear a pink tutu and pink ballet shoes for one of the shows I was in. Desmond played the piano to accompany us at the lessons. He also played a record called ‘Intermezzo’ from ‘Cavalleria Rusticana’ by Pietro Mascagni. It was a beautiful piece of music that we would cool down to at the end of the lesson. If I ever hear it played nowadays, it brings me right back to those special times.

The room where the ballet classes took place had a big mirror and a barre that we held when doing our practice. Desmond, playing the piano, would put us through our paces. First position, second position, third, fourth and fifth, plié, jeté and arabesque and finally ending with stretching to the music of ‘Cavalleria Rusticana Intermezzo’ to wind down at the end of our lesson.

A few years ago, I drove to County Meath to visit my cousins. I had some old photos to give them that I had inherited. The photos were of their own family from years ago that I thought they would like to keep. One of my cousins was home on holiday from England. She was the same age as Marie and they had been friends. I felt a bit sad driving there on my own and thinking about my sister who was no

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longer here. She would have enjoyed the family occasion: meeting our cousins to reminisce and talk about old times. Marie was really in my thoughts when, to my surprise, ‘Cavalleria Rusticana Intermezzo’ was played on the radio. It instantly brought me back to those ballet classes and Marie. It was such a coincidence that it played at that moment. I like to think it was her way of letting me know that she was with me anyway. I may have shed a few tears, but I was also smiling on the inside and my heart felt happy.

Marie used to bring me to see ballets in the Olympia Theatre when I was young. Our seats were in the Gods; we climbed many steps to get to the rows at the top of the theatre. I still love going to the ballet and I have a cherished collection of ballet programmes from shows I have been to. I especially love to see Ballet Ireland and the Irish National Youth Ballet performing. When I look at this photograph of Marie, I think of all the enjoyment that ballet has brought us. I really admire her for all the activities she took part in, for all the places she brought me to and for introducing me to the joy and beauty of dance.

My mother brought me to the Olympia Theatre as well to see The Jack Cruise Show which would be on at Christmas and in the summer holidays and at Easter too as far as I can remember. We climbed up the stairs to the Gods again to see the variety show which comprised of comedy sketches, music, singing and dancing. It was always very entertaining, and we would be laughing at the slapstick comedy and singing along with the music. The well-

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known tenor Joseph Locke sang in the shows. For his finale he would sing ‘Goodbye’ and everyone would be singing along with him and would give him a great round of applause at the end of the show. We always came out of the theatre in great form after having been well entertained.

On the Sunday in September that I was born, Marie was out for the day in Killiney with her friends from dancing. I arrived five weeks early so Marie was oblivious to what was happening at home that day. My dad and one of our neighbours linked arms with my mother as they walked her up to the old Coombe Hospital nearby where I came into the world at 5:45 in the evening weighing 5 lbs. They named me Ann Geraldine. My mother told me I was named after a doll called Baby Ann that Marie had when she was young. Some of my cousins used to call me by this pet name when they’d be home visiting from England. I recently found a lovely letter that my mother received while we were still in the Coombe Hospital. It was from our neighbour Mrs Laurence who had helped my mother walk to hospital, congratulating her and wishing us both well. She addressed my mother as Mrs Donohoe, the formal way that people did in those days. Almost 30 years later, the same lady crocheted the Christening shawl for my first child.

While I only went to ballet classes for a year or so when I was a young child, I took it up again when I was about ten for a couple

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of terms. This time the ballet school was in Henry Street and the classes took place on a Saturday afternoon. What I really remember about that time was not the dancing so much as coming home after class with my brother Brian. At that time Brian worked as a post office clerk on the counter in the GPO in O’Connell Street. When my class was finished, I would walk down the street to meet him to go home together. I would be too early so I would check to see which counter he was working on, then queue up behind the people who wanted to buy stamps and surprise him when I got to the top of the queue. We would walk home and when we arrived at our block in the flats, there was an unspoken challenge to race each other up the stairs to see who could get to our door on the third floor the quickest. I would be laughing so much that I could not run quick enough to beat him so Brian always won!

It was a lovely thing and great fun to have an older brother and sister. I looked up to them and thought they were wonderful. I wasn’t spoiled but I felt so loved and cared for. Marie brought me out with her sometimes. Occasionally we visited a friend of hers who always had a little bunch of grapes for me. She told me she had a little tree in her kitchen that they grew on and, being a child, I believed her, although I never saw the tree in question. One time we went out to Howth after Christmas for a walk. I was in heaven as Marie had bought me a comic to read on the bus and it was lovely to be going on an outing with her. Years later, Marie used to bring my own children and nephews on outings too and they also loved it. When she came home from work, I would ask her to play skipping

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with me in our hall after tea and she would say, “I’ll just wait until my tea goes down.”

Everyone at home gave me a little pocket money each week which was nice. Sometimes on a Saturday I would go around to a small gift shop near us in Patrick Street and buy something. I remember one time buying an ornament for my mother and a big felt marker for myself. I can still remember the sound of the marker on the paper I drew on. Occasionally Brian gave my friend Frances and myself some money to buy a “feast” for ourselves in Mealys, a local shop. Depending on how much money we got, we would buy crisps, lemonade, chocolate or sometimes ice cream. My favourite chocolate bar at that time was called Milk Tray. It was a small bar with four sections, each a different flavour. Strawberry, orange, vanilla and coffee. It was delicious! When you bit into the bar you did not know what flavour you were going to get first. At that time, you could drink the little bottles of lemonade in the shop and it was cheaper, or else you took the lemonade home, and it was dearer, but you got some money back when you returned the bottle to the shop.

Marie was very good at dress making. She made lovely dresses for herself and for me sometimes for my birthday parties. In 1969 she even made her own wedding dress and her two bridesmaids’ dresses. I was thirteen when she got married and was one of her bridesmaids. I remember getting up early on the morning of the wedding which was due to take place at eleven. The son of our neighbour had a hairdressing salon which he opened early for us.

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Marie and the chief bridesmaid, her friend Mairead, both had short hair and so they had little hair pieces added to give height on the crown and they looked fabulous. I had longer hair and had my hair styled in a deep fringe and a flick. I do not know how the flick stayed in place all day, but it did, and it caught and retained some confetti that was thrown at the wedding party. In those days in Dublin, it was a wedding custom to have a Grushee where coins were thrown to the children waiting to see the wedding party leaving the house. The word can be spelt in different ways: Grushie, Grushy, and Grushee. It comes from Scots Gaelic meaning good health and fortune. My mother did the Grushee for Marie’s wedding when we came down the stairs to get into the wedding cars. It was such goodnatured fun and a great start to the wedding festivities.

Speaking of coins, my Irish dancing career started and finished on the day when the thrupenny bit for my first lesson disappeared down between the cracks in the floorboards in the hall where the Irish dancing lessons were taking place. I was mortified and was too afraid to tell the lady taking the money what had happened, and I went home disappointed. I am sure she would have let me take part in the lesson but in a child’s eye this was a disaster. I can only wonder now what might have been.

In Christmas 1968, a couple of months before Marie’s wedding, I won a three-month black kitten at a sale of work in my friend’s

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school. To win the kitten, you had to guess its name. Before I left home to go to the sale of work, I asked my mother what names she thought I should guess at the competition. She suggested Lulu and Pearl. As it turned out, the kitten’s name was Black Pearl and I won him having had the nearest correct answer. I suppose the names Sooty and Blackie would have been popular entries in the competition.

My friend and I brought Pearl home on the bus through town in a basket. He received a great welcome at our house and settled in well. We changed his name to Pussy Wee after a toy cat that I owned. Pussy Wee was a frisky kitten at that time and loved to play. He loved running up the hall and jumping onto one bed and bouncing over to the other one. Sometimes he scratched my hands playfully with his back legs as he was so young. Coming up to the wedding, Dad had freshly decorated our home with new wallpaper and paint, and everything looked great until one morning, when we got up to find that Pussy Wee had scratched a lot of the wallpaper in the hall with his claws and it was in shreds on the floor! There was nothing for it but to re-paper the hall. This time Dad covered the bottom part of the walls with clear plastic until just before the wedding, so it was safe from the claws of Pussy Wee!

It was a custom at that time, before a wedding, to invite women neighbours into the house to see the wedding presents which were set out on display. Refreshments of sandwiches, cakes and tea were prepared and a lovely evening of laughter and chat was had by

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all. My mother invited our neighbours in one evening before the wedding. That afternoon, the wedding dress and the bridesmaids’ dresses were laid out on the bed to be admired along with the display of wedding presents that the bride and groom to be had received. Of course, Pussy Wee decided to do his usual trick and take a run up the hall and jump up onto the bed and land on the bride’s dress. Thankfully though, no damage was done but the bedroom door was kept shut firmly after this!

One time, my friend Frances and I decided to bring Pussy Wee for a walk in St Stephen’s Green on a lead. He was having none of that though and he had to be carried home as he got there, in a shopping bag. After about two years of living with us in our flat, it was decided it would be kinder to let him live with my sister and husband in their new house in Balally which had a nice long garden for him to play in. I missed him a lot at home, but I knew he was happy in his new home. Black Pearl lived a long happy life and he died, aged 19, a much-loved member of our family.

In September 1965, Marie and Brian went on a cruise with a group of their friends. The cruise took them to Tangier, Cadiz, and Santander among other exotic ports of call. Their ship, the Devonia, departed from Dublin Port. A taxi came to take them to the ship. I was devastated that they were both going to be away for two weeks and leaving me behind. In tears, I ran after the taxi as far as the gates of our flats.

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Later, when Dad came home from work, he drove my mother and myself out to the South Bull Wall, or Shelly Banks as we called it, so we could see the Devonia departing Dublin Port. I waved and waved as the ship sailed by, tears all gone and hoping that Marie and Brian could see us. It was exciting seeing the ship sailing out to sea. They had a wonderful holiday with their friends and brought home lovely souvenirs and presents from their travels. One precious memento of their cruise that I still have is a telegram they sent me from the ship for my tenth birthday. Brian went on to enjoy some more cruising holidays after that.

In 1975, ten years after I tearfully followed the taxi carrying Marie and Brian, I went on a Mediterranean cruise with Brian. This time our ship was called the Canberra and it sailed out of Southampton Port. Aunty Maura and Uncle Colin, who lived near Southampton, came to wave us off from the quayside as a brass band played. A second and longer cruise was to West Africa and Brazil. On this cruise, at a ceremony crossing the Equator, we saw King Neptune but that is another story!

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Covid

This time last year hailed the start of a lovely Spring and early summer as we headed into our first lockdown due to the arrival of Covid-19 in Ireland. We had to stay in our own area and could not visit our loved ones or meet up with friends. We stuck to the rules as best we could to “flatten the curve” of Covid-19. We felt sorry for the people who were ill or in hospital with it and for those that the virus took and for their families. We prayed that the situation would improve by everyone doing what was needed to be done. We made the best of things and kept in touch with friends and family by phone or text, usually ending the conversations with the words “Stay safe”. We looked for things to occupy us at home. For my part, I really enjoyed pottering in my garden during the lovely weather. I planted, divided, took cuttings, and moved plants around and enjoyed sitting in the garden with a cup of tea watching the garden come to life. I repainted garden furniture with leftover wood paint as the hardware shops were closed. I read, knitted, and had meals in the garden. It was some consolation for being restricted by Covid-19 that the weather was so good

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and being able to enjoy the outdoors. I rediscovered the walks in my area within the 2-kilometre limit. The Dodder Valley Park was there to be explored along with the Bohernabreena Reservoir and Kiltipper Park.

On rainy days, I cleaned out presses, sorting things that needed to be sorted in the house and feeling a nice sense of achievement when it was done. I kept thinking that I should finally get around to sorting my old photographs but kept putting it on the long finger. As summer wore on and Autumn approached, I noticed that South Dublin Libraries were advertising some interesting classes and talks. These events would be taking place online via Zoom, something I had never heard of before last year. As my own laptop was old and slow, I needed to borrow my husband’s laptop, which had Zoom installed, to take part in these classes.

I have been a member of the library since I was a young child and have liked nothing better than to come home from the library with a pile of books to read, encouraging my children to become library members also. I have taken part in language classes and been a member of two book clubs in the County Library in Tallaght, always appreciating the effort that the staff of the library go to facilitating these events taking place. But never more so than in the last year. It has been wonderful to be able learn how to crochet, to paint a picture of a yacht, brush up on my Irish skills, write down the memories in my old family photos in Silver Threads, make a Christmas wreath, listen to some talks on art, join an online book club, research family history on the genealogy course, take part in quizzes, get tips from gardening talks, learn about the

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benefits of drawing Mandalas and finding out the secrets in Dublin Pub names. In the dark days we have gone through in the last year, these classes have been a beacon of light and a great focus to concentrate the mind. Some of the classes have been entertaining and others engrossing. I do not think I can thank South Dublin Libraries enough for all the effort they have gone through to provide these sources of learning and community. In the beginning, I felt a bit shy taking part online and looking at myself on the screen, but I soon forgot my shyness as I was drawn into whatever course I was doing. A nice surprise for me at Christmas was receiving a present of a lovely new laptop from my family. It is neater and much quicker than my old one and is very much appreciated. There is no stopping me now!

Taking part in the Silver Thread’s course has been a great journey for me, a real trip down memory lane. Under Cathy’s prompting and encouragement, Rita, Pat, Brian, and I have shared and written about memories and family events from the past. We have pored over our old photographs, writing down the memories that have come flooding back, one memory rekindling another. It has been a great use of my inheritance of family photos to relive life with my family when I was young. This has given me great joy. Thank you so much Cathy and Kevin for your encouragement and guidance on this journey. It had been such a pleasure to meet you and my fellow participants in our online group and to hear all the wonderful stories that they have to tell about family life and family history.

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Ann ready for the limelight

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Marie, Brian and Ann in front of the Iveagh Flats

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Dress dance in the Shelbourne Hotel

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The bridesmaids

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Black Pearl the kitten

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Meeting Santa Claus circa 1960 outside McBirney’s Department Store on Aston Quay in Dublin

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Birthday greetings from a ship

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Marie, Mairead, Sheila and Ann in St Stephen’s Green

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Parents’ Wedding Day

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Pat Jacob

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This is a childhood memory with my cousins and siblings enjoying posing for a photo on our donkey.

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The Donkey

This photograph was taken sometime around the summer of 1962. I was born and grew up in the country, in County Meath. I still call it home at times, although maybe home-home is the affectionate name I use when I talk about that house, that place.

Photos and memories are very important to me. In 2001, my dad, who wasn’t very well at the time, came to live with me. We took all our family photos to Dublin for safe keeping. They had been stored in a sideboard in envelopes and plastic bags, and some were even in covers we got back from the chemist’s when they were developed. The price tags went from five shillings and five pence to eight shillings.

As I look at this photo over and over again, all I see and feel are more and more memories from that time of my life. My dad did not farm full time, which meant that we were in a lucky position to have had a steady income coming in every month. All our cousins lived in towns or in London so our house was the favourite to

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visit during the summer holidays, even if we had to sleep tops and tails in our beds so there was room for everybody. The freedom we experienced back then, of running through fields, getting our legs stung by nettles and making up new games, really makes the photos come alive. My mind keeps jumping from one thing to another, I keep saying to myself “oh remember!” so this is how I’m going to continue.

I remember some of the games we played and created for ourselves back then. We used empty bean cans with a string joining them and thought we had the best phone system ever. We used to hide behind a hedge with a string tied to a parcel on the road – of course there were very few cars on the road back then – and when the driver would get out we tugged at the string and ran away like mad in case we were caught.

I remember when dad would come home from work and still have to milk maybe two cows he always put a wooden box beside his stool for me to sit on. I was no help but kept him company. On nights if it was too late for me to join him I listened from my bedroom to Dad singing out loud as he milked the cows and I drifted off to sleep so full of contentment. Milk had to go through a separator the following day and I still have no idea how the cream and skimmed milk came out two different spouts. This was quite a complicated-looking machine operated by turning a handle which we all took turns to do.

I remember having three lambs. Dad sold one to a neighbour about two miles away and much to our surprise the following summer

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this lamb appeared walking in our lane with two little lambs. I remember a goat we also had which we were not allowed go too close to so she was tied to a tree on a long leash. I had asthma as a child and was put on a diet of goat milk. One day this poor animal wrapped herself around the tree too many times and got strangled. I don’t drink milk to this day and don’t have asthma either so maybe we never needed her.

I remember Curls the pure bred Kerry blue dog we had who looked out for us. I don’t remember him ever being replaced as he was adored by us all.

I remember we were never allowed to have chickens as Mam thought they were “dirty auld things” around a house. She didn’t want them restricted in a run either so that was the end of that request.

And of course I remember the donkey in the photo, how special he was to us, feeding him skins and butts of apples from Mam’s baking. When he died in the upper fields Dad did not tell us for four days as he was so upset. I saw my Dad cry then for the first time.

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Our Kitchen Dresser

Our kitchen dresser was the busiest piece of furniture in our house. It had so many functions and held a variety of things. My dad made it long before I can remember so to me it was always there. It was painted many colours from blues to purples along with the kitchen chairs and table legs and the door of the built-in press in the corner of the room. The presses underneath the shelves stored our food in the earlier years and the mismatched delph was stored neatly with cups and saucers on the lower shelf and various sizes of plates on the other two. The top shelf was kept for two large willow-pattern serving dishes that came down to hold the turkey and ham at Christmas.

This top shelf also held a variety of objects. I remember a scissors was kept there out of our reach, and a brush, comb and a small mirror. Dad’s pocket watch was also there and never used but worked perfectly keeping time and we were allowed turns to wind it up. Pens, sellotape, odd coins and goodness knows what else. Nothing mattered up there as they were mostly hidden from

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the eye but we had to keep the rest of it tidy. At the top there were two circles cut out – no function, pure decorative – but on Palm Sunday we got blessed palm at mass and there was a piece put into each circle until they dried out and fell down.

There were two drawers: one held everyday cutlery in neat rows but the other was a dream drawer for a good root around. It held screwdrivers, nails, bolts, a puncture repair kit, glue, rulers, and anything else that was left lying around to be put out of sight. During the week, if a trip in the afternoon was necessary to the local shop for bread or something for tea, we would buy one bar of chocolate if there was enough change left over. There were four of us at home so that meant two squares each so we took it in turns to leave dad a square on the dresser for after work.

We also stored numerous items in the very top of the dresser: a bicycle pump, for example, and several tin boxes, one of which held needles and thread, and another which had a kangaroo and the name Katie on the front and held spare buttons. There was also playing cards, marbles and other games, and a selection of butter spades which my mam used while making butter.

Now 60 years later the dresser is still standing and is painted white, I’m happy to say, as we still laugh about mam’s choice of colours at times. It has become a precious piece of furniture after the new kitchen was built years ago at the back. The drawers are still full of lots of redundant bits and pieces but sadly nobody is there to use them. The lower presses store old items that will never be thrown out in my time: the Irish Press daily paper, and a hand-

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made wooden case, made by dad, which he used as his lunch box.

All the upper shelves now proudly hold a full set of willow-pattern dishes, plates, cups and saucers that belonged to my late husband Kevin’s family. When their house was cleared out nobody had a need for these so I willingly took them to my childhood home to store and they certainly enhance our forever loved and treasured dresser which stands taller than ever, proudly joining two special parts of my life together forever.

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Then...

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Irish Dancing Friends Then and Now

In the 60s our family life in the country was full of fun with parents who gave us the opportunity to try whatever classes and hobbies were available to us. Irish dancing was my favourite. I probably started learning around eight years old as part of the Tormey School of Irish Dancing. We had our class on Saturday mornings in a huge cold hall which was built by the Agricultural Show Society and is still known as the Show Hall today. It was used for lots of functions and was our local dance hall in our late teens during the showband era.

Friends were a very important part of growing up in a small community so we made lots of new friends from nearby schools. At first we wore a light cotton blue skirt with a red top until we were invited to wear the class costume which was embroidered with Celtic designs. There was no definite pattern we needed to use so that was exciting – being able to express ourselves with colour. It was also nice when we learnt the hard hornpipe dances in hard shoes with taps on. The exhibitions and competitions we took part in were at local sports days and fleadh rince and fleadh ceoil which were very popular around

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the country back then. On St Patrick’s Day for the local town parade it was always a problem to decide between marching with the girl guides and dancing on a colourful float. The photograph above was taken with us dancing on the trailer of a lorry. Each Friday and Sunday night during Lent there were variety concerts held in every parish hall and we would be invited to take part in and really enjoyed it.

There was a competitive side to it too, so we would compete at lots of feiseanna. These were held all around the county. We loved it if we were lucky enough to come home with a few medals each time. My sister and I became well known for our two hand reel so we were often invited to dance it during our teenage years at local functions even though our dancing school had finished up due to the death of our teacher.

Competition certainly was nothing as materialistic or pressurised as it is now. Obviously there was no requirement back then for curly wigs, sequins, make up, fake tan and even glue to keep your socks up which are widely used now. I don’t think that competitive side was there so it was more about learning a new skill, making new friends and having lots of fun. Margaret, Camilla and I are in the second photo, taken two years ago – still the same three of us. When I look at this photo I feel such deep gratitude towards and love of this special friendship that has lasted over 60 years from the first day we met at school, with hopefully many more years to come. We have never lost touch since our school days and have lived through good times, great times, amazing times and sad times together which make a great friendship even better. * * *

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While writing about my Irish dancing photograph taken around early 60’s so many memories came flooding back. My mam was like most women back then and could turn her hands to anything that needed to be done. The word homemaker comes to mind, as so few women worked outside the home then. When my official dancing school costume was bought it needed to be embroidered. We were supplied with the Celtic patterns which you stitched on securely before getting down to the real work. There were no set rules about how it was done. I remember sitting with my mam and lots of coloured threads to choose from. When the decisions were made I would sit comfortably next to her by the open range with the dress spread over both our knees, watching every chain stitch going along the dotted line. The work continued for days, when time allowed along with all the other chores. Of course she let me do some stitches as she watched carefully, keeping a check that the tension was perfect. When it was finished I felt a million dollars wearing it as I had helped to make it. Embroidery was not a big thing in our house as Mam would have seen knitting and dressmaking more beneficial. I have a treasured photo taken on the mail boat, as it was called then, to Holyhead with Mam, my sister and me wearing similar homemade pink dresses with a white binding around the large collar and hemline. Now I can only think of the emoji of the little monkey covering his face being appropriate as it is something you would definitely not see now. We looked great!

It was on the open range we sat at sewing that Mam cooked her first sponge cake. Of course back then there was no temperature gauge and probably no weighing scales for ingredients either. It’s no wonder I used to tell her that I’d never know how to bake as everything

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was a fistful of this and a fistful of that and I always thought that her fists were bigger than mine. No doubt the cakes were all turned out to perfection. Mam went on to bake all through her life and was a prize-winner at all the local agricultural shows. At our local show in Oldcastle there is a perpetual trophy in her honour for the highest points gained in the baking section. I have to add in here that back about twelve years ago I proudly displayed the trophy on my sideboard for a year. It did take me three years to win it but with love and determination I came from third place to second place and the next year it was mine. I had my maiden name engraved on it and was so proud. I still enter a few cakes each year to keep up the tradition and am secretly proud when I win a few prizes.

It was also at that open range – which is still there today – that we took turns sitting and warming our feet, with Mam rubbing them, coming in from the cold. We also toasted bread at the fire there by holding it on a knife and sometimes it would fall into the ashes. Back then there were not lots of spare slices either. I was the tea drinker at home with my mam, still am, so after dinner when we came home from school the table was tidied and the cup of tea was made for both of us to take back to the range. That continued when I came to work in Dublin and arrived home every Friday evening, having taken the bus or hitched – another common way of travel back then now best forgotten. With a quiet house and everybody gone to bed we again drank our tea and watched the coal turn to cinders and some nights even ashes having the best catch ups ever.

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... and now

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Simple Christmas

Christmas preparations started in our house around mid December. The puddings and cake were first to be done. Each of us took turns to mix the puddings as this was for luck and a good year to follow. I came from an alcohol-free household so we thought that it was great when two bottles of stout were purchased. We remembered the smell from the previous year. They were boiled in muslin for hours but I never forget the taste. I still make puddings each year. The cake was always nicely decorated with real almond and white icing made from egg whites and sugar, no marzipan or instant icing back then.

The same decorations came out from year to year. The paper chains made from different coloured paper tore very easily so there was always need for sticky tape. They went from corner to corner and dipped in the middle under the light. The tree was not as important then as now so I can’t remember if we had one every year.

Toys and presents were bought quietly behind the scenes and hid-

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den away. They were all bought locally as there was very little transport to travel to larger towns. I can remember lorries, cars and a particular transporter which I think the girls got. There were also dolls, one which was a rag doll I named Sputnick, so that must have been 1957 or 1958, when I was three years old. Our needs and wants were very little back then so we were happy with anything.

The food shop included the turkey, ham and lemonade. It was probably the only time in the year we had lemonade. The few bottles were put in the attic using the trap door so there was no chance we would drink it before the 25th. The turkey was left hanging on the back door knob outside to keep cold for the night. The ham was cooked on Christmas eve before we went to late mass. Candles were lit in all our windows until we left for mass to keep the spirits away. The local brass and reed band paraded up town after mass so we all marched behind them to the centre of the town flagged by four men carrying balls of fire. I’ve no idea the significance of it.

We couldn’t wait to get home to bed and snuggle under the blankets for our surprises the next day. We always had a family day that was so simple compared to now. We lit an extra fire in one of the bedrooms and moved the beds together and used it like a living room for the day. We had a mid-day dinner with all the trimmings and eventually got to open the lemonade. Mid-afternoon our parents always had a present for us. It was always a comic annual which we treasured.

Life was so simple for us back then. We all went to bed happy and tired and ready to face the next day.

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Covid

In early March 2020 I was picking up my granddaughter from playschool 30 minutes after the announcement of our first lockdown following the outbreak of Covid-19. The confusion and uncertainty for everyone there was overwhelming. I will never forget it. We had no idea what lay ahead for us all. As the next few days went by we tried to get our heads around what was happening. We all became totally obsessed with radio, TV, news from anywhere we could get it day and night, most of which we could not even process at that time.

We then settled into a new phase of acceptance that this was how it would be for a few weeks. Jobs left on the long finger for months got done, drawers, presses, wardrobes got cleared out and the paint came out. Gardens were attended to earlier than ever that year. We all felt we were making good use of our spare time. As the weeks went on we realised that we had more time on our hands than we wanted so pastimes and new hobbies were thought about. New recipes, jigsaws, more books, crafts and making masks became

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the order of the day. I was learning how to play the ukulele at the time but I found I was not in the mood for singing with it but I will take it up again as I was really enjoying it.

So many things that we considered normal were suddenly taken away from us. As we lived through the summer months and things eased a little we had time to reflect on the situation we were in and totally appreciated the work of the doctors, nurses and all frontline people who carried on their work and should never again be taken for granted. We also got used to hearing words like masks, sanitisers, handwashing, germs, hugs, zoom, social distancing, social bubbles and pandemic taking – words that took on a whole new meaning. Two metres apart, for most of us who never left yards, feet and inches, felt like miles away while out walking when eye contact was even missing. I listened to so many podcasts when I needed a diversion from more Covid news and the worldwide doom and gloom and uncertainty. The different emotions I have experienced throughout the year have been overwhelming at times and could change from hour to hour. Conversations changed so much with family and friends. No matter how hard we tried not to discuss Covid the chat always reverted back to it.

It was a great time to try new courses online, especially through the libraries, which were a great distraction as the winter months set in and we learned how to negotiate our way through Zoom. I did quite a few: genealogy, advanced knitting, meditation, quilting and virtual tours of the Botanical Gardens. I had a book I’d wanted to complete for about two years with extracts of my life for my grandchildren which was left on the long finger. When I saw

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the photo memoir course online with Silver Thread in October I signed up. Firstly it made me take out all my old photos and photos belonging to my parents which I had in boxes. I have totally enjoyed every minute of that, especially sharing them with family and friends. When it came to choosing some for the writing course it was difficult as each one had lots of memories, tears, smiles and laughs but reminded me of the journey I took to get to where I am today. At first I thought we would write a few lines with each photo but it turned out a little more work was needed but I’m so glad I survived the odd “OMG I can’t do this” moment. While looking at a photo the expression “look at the bigger picture” took on a total new meaning for me and I hope to continue looking at the bigger picture in life. Each week I looked forward to our zoom meeting with Cathy and to listening to the other participants’ stories which were so interesting. I think that this year has been so different in every way that there is no such thing as “normal” anymore.

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Pat’s sharply dressed family in the sun

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Pat’s fancy footwork

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Farm photo: out standing in their field

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Irish dancing embroidery – sent by Rita

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Brian McKeown

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This photograph of my great-grandmother Catherine Mc Donald was taken around 1913 when she was about 77 years old. I want to write down her story.

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