Personal Recollections of a Dublin long since gone

[Bridget x]

Recollections,    1938..   Chalk and Cheese


 Spitting on the old flat iron until the familiar sizzle appeared the now cold spare iron was put onto the back jet of the black leaded gas cooker. The freshly ironed clothes already covered two chairs in two neat piles with as much again ready to be ironed, but, finally it was finished at last.. The woman removed the “pipe cleaners” from the ends of her hair; they preceded the silver clip type curlers which would later become fashionable. Combing the hair through and patting it into place she then removed the cross over apron and carefully folded it before placing it in the drawer that held the clean tea towels. The Ponds empty tin was removed from the cupboard and the now shiny powder puff it contained was lightly brushed over the face, her only concession to vanity. Two brown paper bags were removed from the old dresser drawer and into each of these were placed one orange, one slim bar of Cadburys chocolate and a bar of nougat. After a few whispered words with an old lady, (her mother) she took the small chubby toddler by the hand and left the house. It was a long walk and the child lagged behind pulling at its mother’s hand. She would stop and lift the child all the while trying to protect the two brown paper bags containing the precious treats. So she proceeded, lifting and carrying the child until she was forced by the weight to put her down again. This went on until; finally they reached the bus stop. It was such a big step to board the bus, but with mummy’s help the child managed it. They soon settled down on what seemed a very long journey. Alighting from the bus they again walked but only a short walk this time. Tall black railings appeared with a gate set into the middle. No drive and almost immediately beyond the gate four deep concrete steps led to a huge wooden door with black studs placed down its full length a large black door knocker in it’s centre. Lifting the heavy knocker the woman let it fall twice and stepped back a pace. Even through the thickness of the door a bell could be heard clanging from within and finally, it opened. The person looking out was dressed from head to toe in black, a veil covering the hair completely with just the face showing. The child pulled back frightened, cowering behind the woman’s skirt. Words were exchanged and the woman and child were invited inside and then directed to a room. The woman later left the room, her heels making a clacking sound as she crossed the highly polished floor of the hall. The two brown paper bags now lay in the fold of her arm. The toddler was left, for a short time in the care of the lady in black. The woman returned, minus the bags and wiping her eyes,

[Bridget x]

1949 

I had only ever known my mum to “fall out” with two women, one, the lady who pawned her crocodile handbag, the one my Dad had sent her from Italy during the war. (Thread, Recollections, the unwanted Gift) and the other, well, while not a “falling out” I was aware she did not like the old lady who lived across the road from us. I have to be honest and say not a lot of people liked old Mrs T. Despite having a large family, children and grandchildren they did not often visit. I had just started to go dancing and Oh! How I loved this new world that was opening to me. Pencil skirts and little jersey tops, flat black pumps for jiving and of course, “bubble perms” I never gave the old lady across the road a second thought. Saturday night dances were my favourite despite strict orders from my Dad to be home by 10.00. Sunday morning would find us rushing to Mass at the last minute and sneaking into the back of the crowded church hoping our parish priest would not notice us latecomers! I swear that man had eyes in the back of his head! Without even turning around he would bellow out “Will all you young people who are crowding around the back of the church please come forward, there are plenty of seats down the centre aisle” Was he not aware we wanted to make a quick get away so we could discuss what boy had asked us to dance and who had walked us home the previous night? The silly man. On one such Sunday morning I found myself standing next to two girls. I did not know them but when the usual call blasted out to “Please come forward” we set off giggling and could not stop. After Mass I found myself walking along with the two girls and chatting away as if we had known each other all our lives. This then was my introduction to Julia and Christine the latter always called Tina. Imagine my surprise when reaching my street they too turned and entered it with me! At first I thought they were visiting but no, they informed me they had come to live there with their grandmother who happened to be old Mrs T. A year separated the girls, one would never know they were sisters; they shared neither looks nor personality, as different as chalk and cheese. Julia the older had a soft beauty, her blonde hair falling in deep natural waves around a serious face..
Even way back then I knew she would never make a decision without giving it a lot of thought, a bright dependable girl who did not make friends easily but when she did it would be for life. Her sister Tina was slightly smaller in height and frame her short brown curly hair framing an elfin mischievous face, a cheeky grin never far off. Soon the three of us were inseparable When we could manage to save and afford them even their choice in clothes could not be more different! Where Julia went for tailored skirts and nice blouses, Tina would opt for bright colours with beads galore. Looking back I am amazed that the three of us could form such a firm friendship, we differed in so many ways. Sometimes I likened us to a stew! So many different ingredients going into a big pot and yet, the end result a perfect taste to the pallet. Tina and I loved dancing, Julia did not and yet she would fall in with whatever we wanted to do and us, Tina and me with her. Somehow I expected to be “piggy in the middle” but that never happened, they were like night and day, hot and cold and yet, I found myself blending into this mixture as easily as eating or drinking. We all worked as machinists but not in the same place. Sadly, our lovely giddy times together came at a cost! As soon as I finished work, wolfed down my tea, I would dash across the road to see the girls. I was never invited in, but one or other of them would slip out on to the landing and inform me they were not allowed to come out until they had prepared dinner, washed up and done a load of housework. They did everything in the home and on top of this the grandmother Mrs T would take their wages from them and give them back coppers. The buying of clothes which I mentioned above would come later when they rebelled! We yearned to go swimming but did not have a swimming costume between us! Mum arrived home one day and told me “Guiney’s” department store had a great sale on and she had noticed they had bathing costumes for 4/6 “ I could not wait to tell the girls, but where were they going to get the four shillings and six pence ? I myself had ten shillings every week from my wages so knew I could manage it if I cut out the dancing for a week. Shock, shock, while I would have expected it of Tina the quiet Julia came to the fore and informed grandma that from now on they would be taking ten shillings a week from their wages and she could have the rest!!! I stayed well out of the way for several weeks not wanting to feel the wrath of Mrs T in case she thought it was my doing!

[Bridget x]

We could not wait to get to the shop, worried in case they (the bathing costumes) were all sold out. Drat! They did have the elasticised ones but only in a canary yellow shade. Desperate, we bought three, one each. Julia, always the sensible one suggested we should embroider our initials to one side, no easy task on elasticised material! A dab hand with the needle she elected to do the work. My first “grown up bathing costume” and with my very own initial on the side. I preened and posed in front of my nanas full length mirror, Esther Williams eat your heart out! The following Sunday found us out in Dollymount, our nearest seaside. The road leading to the beach is long, the drop to the left hand side leading to sandy beaches and popular with families with young children. We opted for the right hand side where one had to clamber down over huge boulders to reach the waters edge, it was more private. Finding a secluded place we changed into our costumes and were soon splashing around in the sea. What a sight we must have looked, three yellow figures bobbing up and down in the waves. An hour or so later, we decided we would go and sunbathe on the rocks. Tina led the way with me close behind. A sudden shriek from Julia stopped us in our tracks! We turned to see her frantically pointing at us both, “In heavens’ name, what’s the matter” I asked Tina. It soon became apparent! Our now wet costumes had become see through! everything showed through, nothing left to the imagination!!! To make matters worse a group of lads had positioned themselves on the rocks during our swim calling out to us. Diving back into the safety and coverage of the waves we swam around and around hoping the lads would get fed up with the lack of response from the three yellow canaries and go away. They did eventually move off but not before our skin had shrivelled to a prune like texture and we staggered out of the sea, exhausted. Ahhh, so much for our bargain swimsuits!
Our halcyon days continued throughout that lovely summer, dancing, cycling and yes, even long walks while we awaited our next pay day. Tina, especially lived life to the full, living each day as if there was no tomorrow. Like a caged bird set free she wanted to taste and experience everything defying anyone to stop or get in her way! Soon, she was not prepared to accept the ground rules laid down by grandma, harsh though they were and returned from dances when she wanted to and not before. Julia would point out to her the sensible way to get around things but our headstrong little butterfly was not prepared to listen. Our lovely friendship continued only breaking up when romance entered our young lives. Julia, older than us by one year was the first to break away. She would meet and years later marry John, a young carpenter, her first and only love. I am told they had a wonderful and happy marriage eventually moving and setting up home in London. My itchy feet would take me far away to pastures green leaving Tina still living life to the full. We were never to meet again, although I was to learn later Tina’s eventual marriage was not a happy one. Violence and alcohol played a big part in the marriage. I wondered did they stay together and overcome the demons. I hoped so, or had the wings of our little butterfly become crushed and damaged along life’s way?

[Bridget x]

Sometime in the 1960s

My younger sister had bought a new house and invited us over to Dublin see it. I was not familiar with the area where she now lived never having gone there before. Driving from the car ferry we made our way in what I hoped was the right direction. Arriving at a T junction and a set of traffic lights we stopped on the red light. Talk about Déjà Vu Turning to my husband I said “I’m sure I was in this place before” He replied, you probably were when you lived in Dublin many years ago” yet I could not recall having been in that part of the city. The large grey building directly opposite us was surrounded by black railings with a gate in its center. Just beyond the gate four deep concrete steps led up to a large wooden door. I just had time to notice a brass plaque on the wall and could just make out the word 'Convent'before we had to drive off.

Mum and I were such good pals, we would sit and talk for hours recalling our old street and neighbours back in Ireland. Curious, I asked about Mrs T and mum’s dislike of her. It emerged the daughter of the old lady (one of eight) was mum’s best friend.
Connie and mum went dancing together and eventually they both married and lived in the same street. Connie gave birth to two children but sadly died of tuberculosis at a very young age. Billy the young husband tried to struggle on but found it impossible to cope. The two girls were put into an orphanage
This really upset mum no end. No one knew what became of Billy. She always felt the grandmother or one of the now seven sisters of Connie should have stepped in and taken the girls, forecasting the grandmother would soon have them when they were grown up and wage earning. How right she was! I had always thought I could only remember back from the age of seven years but, hearing this story sent me flying back to something long since forgotten, a memory was emerging. I felt compelled to ask mum did she ever visit the children. Yes, she replied but not very often, She could not afford to drag her brood on to busses and travel across the city. I told mum I was sure she had taken me along on one of her visits describing what I could remember. Mum could not remember. How vividly I remember the oranges and the nuns in their black habits. I can place the year because there would soon be no oranges only those on the black market and mum could certainly not afford those! I must have been about four years old. How strange that I would unknowingly become friends with two girls who were the daughters of mum’s late friend. Of course mum must have known who they were when they came to live in our street but why had she never told me then? Was this why she was always so kind to them? Who knows, so many questions left unanswered? As Julia was a year older than Tina she could have left the convent when she was sixteen. Was her love for her sister so deep she elected to stay there another year until they could both leave together? Her unofficial protector, And darling Tina, let loose into a world that was oh so strange and new to her, who then could blame her for her lust for life, free at last from the restrictions and rules of convent life. The caged birds were free to soar at last.
Bridget x

[PrueM]

 
You're not the only one Bridget, he's a bit of a hit with the ladies here on Rootschat!

[Bridget x]

The sands of time have swiftly flowing through the hour glass and with it our trials and tribulations!  Our family have growing up and  are scattered with children of their own.  I have jumped forward through the years and my now aged parents have long since left Dublin and living near me in a City in England.
 Older Recollections.  The day I robbed a Bank!!

I was hot and sweaty as I pulled /dragged the heavy Hoover from my house to mum’s. I muttered a few choice expletives under my breath and took great delight imagining the expression on my Dad’s face as I did so!! He never swore despite having worked as a docker and having spent some years in the army as a sergeant.   On the rare occasion he took the Lords name in vain he would immidetely apoligise. It appalled him to hear a woman swear. This “ritual” was carried out almost every other day and all down to Da’s refusal to buy mum a new Hoover! How could two people be so different and still be together after fifty odd years of marriage I asked myself? As mentioned in earlier “Recollections” my mum was the soul of generosity always willing to share what little she had with less fortunate neighbours in our street of tenement houses. My Da on the other hand was completely opposite. Mum’s love knew no bounds and she demonstrated this in a thousand ways while my dad ruled the home with a discipline more suited to an army barracks. All of our large family toed the line where dad was concerned, well, almost all! By the time I reached my late teens I rebelled and stood up to Da rebelling at what I saw as injustices to my beloved mum. I cannot honestly say he was mean with money but he lived in a world where he thought prices remained the same and the housekeeping allowance he gave mum remained the same for many years despite increases in rent and the cost of living. If for instance, Mum needed a new coat my brothers and sisters would get together muttering and arguing as to which one of us was going to approach Da and ask for it! Without fail I was always elected with the words “Let Bridget ask, she is not afraid to approch him” and this from my older siblings! After many hours of practicing my approach before entering the Lion’s den (and too young to have a drink to sustain me) I would venture forward into the arena flying the flag for mum and her new coat!! “Dad, don’t you think it’s about time mum had a new coat?” (Dad) Why? What’s wrong with the one she has? (Me) “Well, it is rather shabby and the last time that style was in vogue Mrs Simpson was wearing it” (Dad, now spluttering with shock) “I bought your mum a new coat when we went on holidays” I point out that famous one and only holiday to Germany took place some five years ago when we almost had to use thumb screws to outfit mum for the occasion! Reluctantly, I am given the go ahead to buy the coat. He is unaware I have already bought mum a new coat which is now secretly stashed away in my wardrobe and several days later I produce and bill him for the coat adding several pounds to the price. The cries of “HOW MUCH” can be heard in the neighbouring borough!!! I pacify him by telling him it should have cost a great deal more but, as I knew the girl in the shop I got a great discount! How delighted I was to be able to pass the money on to mum,  she never spent it on herself but would send it on to a younger sister who was struggling with a young family. I never had any qualms or feelings of guilt about this. Dad called at his local every evening for a couple of drinks and was not averse to buying all and sundry a drink. I reasoned it was better for mum to have it than his drinking cronies, I even encouraged mum to sneak a pound or two from his pockets when he came home the worse for wear! Honesty was the name of the game as far as mum was concerned; she would not steal a penny from dad no matter haw tipsy he got. Despite our differences, Da and I had a healthy respect for each other. I was always very upfront telling him in no uncertain way what I thought even if this resulted in an argument which it invariably did! While I abhorred his tightness with money I admired his courage and tenacity, also his brilliant work ethos. Having lost a leg on the 25th of January from an industrial accident he was back at work in March of the same year despite excruciating pain adjusting to the artificial leg. I did all I could to help mum and dad even down to decorating their 3 bed roomed house on my, own fitting it in while on shift work including nights. While mum was horrified and feeling guilty at this mammoth task, dad took it in his stride expecting it of me. He would never say “I wonder if you could possibly do this for me “but rather, “I want you to sort out “some problem or other. Both well into old age I was by now well versed in his ways and in a perverse sort of way felt that despite our many clashes over the years I was the one he turned to his, “port in a storm”

[Bridget x]

And yet another morning of lugging my Hoover around to mum’s to help with her cleaning. Always a fastidious woman and despite her age she still loved her home to be spick and span. On this particular morning we tackled all the downstairs area before venturing upstairs to change the bedding and clean the bedrooms. At this stage in their lives they each had their own bedroom, I suggested mum “do” her room while I did dads. As mentioned previously, dad had an artificial leg and also a spare one in case of emergencies! The “spare” stood in his bedroom complete with shoe and sock, (no! don’t even go there!) On entering dad’s bedroom I never could manage to suppress the laughter this sight evoked in me! Racing against the clock to make sure I was in time for my work shift I hurriedly set about my task and in doing so knocked over the spare leg!!! As long as I live I shall never forget the sight that met me as I bent to straighten it up!! There, tumbling from within it’s hollow capacity were large numbers of pound notes and five pound notes. I could not believe what I was seeing; my Da’s secret bank and I had stumbled upon it by accident! My hysterical laughter brought mum rushing in from her bedroom. She almost fainted with shock at the sight, and this belonged to a man who had complained he could not afford to buy a new Hoover! There must have been about five hundred pounds, a fortune in those far off days. After the shock came the anger, on my part at least, my mind recalling the many occasions I had to wheedle and cagole to get him to change or buy something for the house. Mum, a deeply religious lady even went as far as to utter the immortal words “Well, the tight old Bu—er” and believe me, that was something that creased me up so much I was hysterical with laughter! We both ended up on the floor laughing so much we were unable to talk, tears streaming down our eyes and holding our aching sides. “You see, I pointed out to mum, despite your prostrations I was right to add a pound here and there when I had to bill dad for something! The end justified the means. Mum almost fainted on the spot when I suggested we remove enough money to buy a new Hoover! I can hold my hand on my heart and honestly say I have NEVER done a dishonest act in my life. In this particular instance I looked at my wonderful little mum and like the trailer for an old black and white movie scenes flashed before my eyes. The farce we went through to get mum a new coat, the times we had asked for money towards the decorating with the usual reply “Where do you think I would get the money” So many little unpleasant memories which, when woven together formed a blanket of selfishness worthy of my Da’s selfish shoulders! No, I felt not one iota of shame as I calmly removed fifty pounds from his secret stash! Poor mum, was in a state of collapse at my audacity and despite her protest of “He will go mad, there will be murder” I smugly carried out my dastardly deed with I might add, much glee at the thought of a lot less pints at the local  bar.We, or should I say I, bided my time waiting for the roof to cave in and after a week, not a sound or a bellow!!! My dad had bluffed for so many years telling all who were prepared to listen that no matter how drunk he got he could tell if a penny was missing from his pocket!! Well, fifty pounds was now missing from his pocket, or should I say his leg (LOL) and he was not even aware of it!! I waited another week before going to the shop and buying mum a reconditioned Hoover which cost £25. As already stated, mum was such an honest and devout woman she could not live with the guilt of my dastardly act!! I have to admit I was angry when she confessed to putting the remaining £25 back in “The Leg” dad’s secret bank. The following year would see her donate a £1 in the church poor box until she had repaid the stolen £25 we had paid for the Hoover which, by the way was trouble from day one! Who, reading this believes in “Poetic Justice?  P. S. While dad and I did not "get on" all the time I really loved and admired him.

[M Duffy]

Hello Briget x.

I have a sister named Brigid, by the way.

I see your many stories and would ask you to visit

Link no longer working 2015

where my son, who published a book I wrote about my parents, has set up a site that has photos from the book and also two chapters to read for free from the book. If you check out the book - BARNEY AND MOLLY - on Amazon it also has a 'search inside' with the first chapter to read for free.

So you could read a chunk of my family recollections to compare with your own. Have you ever approached a publisher? My own book is a family effort and was a labour of love (for my parents) for me.


All the best,

Martin

[Bridget x]

Martin,  As I have a birthday coming up next week, this book is already on my "list".  Reading the extracts  is like reading a part of my own childhood!!  I can't wait to read it.   I have seen so many Molly's in the street where I grew up and have nothing but admiration for them and the struggles  they endured bringing up their families. Good luck and I hope the sales of the book is huge.   Bridget