Nostalgia

By Anne Gillen


My daughter called on me today
With a huge big bunch of dahlia
In a beautiful basket all covered with bows.
It brought on a bout of nostalgia. 

In the middle of the nineties
Flower arranging hadn’t come in
So we displayed our flowers
In a jam jar or a tin. 

We had daffodils from Crawleys
And chrysanths from Delia and George.
We had everlasting grass and bent
And dog daisies from Redmond Johns 

We had lovely branches off the trees
In the chapel avenue
And down below the Watchouse
Beautiful wild roses grew. 

There was nothing quite so lovely
As a spray of white bog cotton
Mid a vase of purple bluebells
From the woods at Ballyweelin. 

There were harebells and wild woodbine
And celandine and honeysuckle.
But do not bring the blackthorn in
Because it is unlucky. 

We had lily of the valley
Growing wild on our Bowmore
And primroses and buttercups out Yonder
And plants in dozens by the shore. 

The first of May was primrose day
We picked them for the knockers
But us, we eat the half of them.
Nowadays primrose oil is expensive! 

Easter time was a huge event
In our simple calendar
We studied the strokes of Ewing and Carr
Who played in the West of Ireland 

At Hallowe’en we enjoyed the craic
With nuts and apples and bairin breac
But best of all was when late that night
We’d hide people’s gates and give old ladies a fright. 

I remember well my Communion day
I was all down in the dumps
A friend just spoiled the day for me
And Sean and RoseMary had the mumps. 

School days were a happy time
Though teachers they were tough.
They’d use a cane or pull your ears
But it made us learn our stuff. 

Michael Jordan was the principal
Miss Tiernan taught the infants.
They both were “way before their time”
In the subjects that they taught us. 

We did sketching and did painting
And we went collecting shells.
We went on outings and  to Feiseanna
And still learned 3Rs as well. 

We roared and cried when Jordan left
There was a great big party.
Then later Mr.Kneafsey came
And we started learning Shakespeare. 

Does anyone remember when
Before Sligo Champion ads.
Ned Kelly rang a great big bell
On O Connell Street in town?

Hear ye    Hear ye  You’d hear him shout
With hat and placard and big top boots
The dance is on. The dance is on
In the Town Hall tomorrow night. 

Woolworth’s was our favourite shop
Whenever we had money.
The pulley on the ceiling for the change
Was very funny. 

The buses they were not like now
They had ladders on the back
For loading up your bicycles
Or luggage or potatoes in a sack. 

When sisters came on holidays
They brought you to the Ritz
For pastries or Peach Melba
Tea or coffee or banana splits. 

We didn’t have any plastic bags
But string and strong brown paper.
You didn’t hear of recycling then
‘Cause everything was necessary. 

We had bread and buns from Macarthur’s van
And coffee cake from Curries
And ”half a dozen pastries”
When Tighe’s van called on paydays. 

The greens we used for dinner
And we eat them.  Come what may!
They were everlasting cabbage
That you wouldn’t see today. 

The carbide for the whitewash
Was got from Josie Haran
And the gravel for the sidewalk
Was found at Jackson’s Pier. 

The seaweed for the garden
Was manure to grow the flowers
And the refuse on the shoreline
It surely wasn’t ours. 

The beastings after calvings
It was brought from the Lower Rosses
And the mearach that my mother made from cockles
Was delicious. 

The shore we searched for driftwood
To keep the fire burning
And dripping was the polish used
For the range that was called a Burnall. 

Paraffin kept the lino strong
And Ronuk put the shine on
Vim and Harpic cleaned the loo
And newspaper cleaned the windows. 

We washed blankets in a bathtub.
They were kneaded with our feet.
And hot coals were doused at bedtime
To help conserve the heat. 

The bleach we used was the round full moon
And the dew upon the lawn.
Linen spread on the grass at night
Was taken in at dawn. 

In summer we picked blackberries
And sloes, for jam and jelly
We’d walk for miles and visit friends
‘Cause then we had no telly. 

The mushrooms on the thrawneens (traithnins)
We sold to Aubrey Ewing
Sure McArdles got the better ones
‘Cause they paid an extra shilling. 

In Winter when the snow would come
And we didn’t have a sleigh
We’d find a sheet of galvanize
Turn up the front, and Hip Hooray! 

On Sunday mornings after Mass
With everyone still fasting
We’d have rashers and sausages and lovely mincemeat
And liver and tasty black pudding

And to finish it off
We’d have lashings of grease
And gorgeous dipped bread.
Nowadays it’s all about dieting. 

Boiling fowl was fairly cheap
From Flynn’s shop in John Street
The heart and neck and gizzard
Were included for our treat. 

Sunday dinner was sirloin steak
That was purchased from O Hara’s
He called on Fridays from house to house
Wearing white coat and with a hop along driver. 

We bought lettuce and onions from Peter’s
And cabbage and spuds from John Monaghan
Mrs. Devins was famous for boxty
We had leftovers from Rosie and Lizzie. 

Oh the cockles and the mussels
The razor fish and peri winkles
The Pollock and the mackerel
And the herrings and the dilisk. 

The bairneach for the eels and crabs
That we fished at Jackson’s Pier
And the slough for Auntie Bee
That was brought from Coney Island. 

When Trish came home on holiday
She made lovely fudge and cake
She coloured them pink with cochineal
And gave us the plates to scrape. 

Our mothers sent us for Green Shield stamps
To Willie Kilgallon’s shop.
He had a great big golden tooth
And called you “Honeybunch” 

We played football at the Watchouse
We played rounders on Wee Green
We played golf ad.lib.on the golf course
And there wasn’t any fee. 

We often sat in Dargan’s field
Awaving at the sailors
And often nearly burst ourselves
Pushing cars round Jontie’s corner. 

One day Georgie Bruen
Rolled up his trouser legs
Pulled on a football jersey
And cycled round the village. 

There were mouths wide open and eyes agog
And holy women prayerful
‘Cause Georgie said he had nothing on
And we just roared with laughter. 

The Golf Links Hotel I remember well
My sister Mary worked there
We pestered her for half a crown
To go up in Murray’s aeroplane. 

We stole apples from priest’s avenue
And told fibs about our mission
And got three hail Mary’s and the long “Ego”
When we told it in confession. 

We always searched the beach at night
Where lovers had been courting
We’d find a shilling or half a crown
And spend it down in Ewing’s. 

We went swimming when we wanted,
Took out  boats without permission
We ran errands for our neighbours
And oft went barefoot to our lessons. 

People came from miles around
To hear about our cures.
We had spraining threads from Gillens
We had goose grease for the flu.

There were gooseberry thorns
For sties on eyes
And the foul mouth cure
From Lily Bruen.

Seawater from the diving board
Was our cure for worms
And bread in boiling water
Makes a poultice you just learned. 

A spoonful of syrup of figs
Was a cure for a pain in the belly
And Parish’s food and cod liver oil
And carrageen moss in a jelly

Kept us healthy and strong
So that all our lives long
We’d remember our coastline so shelly
Where we grew up and played
In the Greenlands and glade
And never spent money on telly. 

My memory may not serve me well
On this I could be questioned.
In Kearns, Rock House I swear I saw
A mermaid in a bottle. 

But best of all my memories
Is of paddling on the strand
Watching sunset out ‘tween Raughley
And our lovely Coney Island. 

Now I waken from my reverie
Not feeling very sad
But thinking how the Point prepared me
For the simple but full life I have had. 

So here I am with my flowers now
Still talking with my daughter.
I hope, she says, that I like you
Will recall my life with pleasure.

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