We had three aunts, three sisters of my father. In that time of big families, aunt Rosie had one son. Johnny Murray was one selfish, horrible little brat. His father died around the same time as our mother, so he was a mammie's pet. He had a big teddy, one day I pulled out the teddy's eyes, I was only playing with it, he beat me up. I reminded him of it when he visited us in London. He remembered, children have long memories. He grew up to be a nice decent man.
Aunt Bridget had one daughter. She lived about four miles away, about twice a year she descended on us. On the day of the visitation, Delia would be up at cock shout getting everything clean and tidy and making nice things to eat. Late morning she would arrive in a hired car. The driver would also have to be fed. She would be accompanied by her precarious darling, for whom she brought special food and fruit. Birdie had lovely long hair, she had lovely clothes and shoes and socks. We barefooted gypsies were not allowed to play with her in case we spoiled her clothes or dropped her in a puddle, which we would have done given half a chance, she brought nothing for us, a nice shop loaf or a pot of jam would have gone down a treat. We were glad when the visit was over, and we saw the back of them.
Then there was Aunt Ellen. She was a lovely warm auntie, who always had a big welcome for all of us. She fed us and loved us and no child ever left her house hungry. She had five children and didn't enjoy good health. On the day that word came to the school that she died in hospital, I was about eleven years old. Her oldest daughter Mary was a year older than me and had to leave school to help to bring up the family, there was no welfare or social service then, so families just got on with it. Near neighbours of theirs was a lovely Protestant family. On the day of the funeral, they took the children to their home and gave them a nice time. On a Sunday as we walked to mass in Kilconnell, they would pass us by, cycling to their own church in Aughrim. We were not allowed to visit their church. Thank God times have changed and people are more enlightened.
There is no comparison between the young people today and the same age group of a generation ago. Today kids still play football on the green and it's great, but they mostly hang around the shops and the tavern. They hang around the alley with mobile phones glued to their ears and designer gear. But they are still nice kids. I like young people. I've always been close to kids, so I know their language. On Saturday mornings when our kids were young teenagers, Michael, Patrick, Kevin and Myles would take off to do their own thing. Myles and his friend Michael Dempsey off fishing. They went by bus and train to Tonbridge, fished all day and came home, falling with hunger. Michael and Patrick off to the golf course to look for caddying jobs and search for lost golf balls. Only hunger brought them home. Kevin collected things. He couldn't pass by a bent nail on the pavement in case it might come in useful. His pockets were full of nails and coins, keys and screwdrivers. When he was about fifteen, there was an abandoned car just down the road. He was trying to get some old gadget off the dashboard when two policemen pulled him out of the car and took him to the police station. We were waiting for him to come in for dinner when a police sergeant knocked on the door and told me they had Kevin at the station, accused of possessing house breaking tools. I told him Kevin had no idea of house breaking. He wasn't convinced so I took him to see Kevin's shed. The shelves were full of all the stuff he found here and there. The sergeant said, come with me and we'll take him home.
When we were children, it was very exciting to go mushroom picking in the early morning. On an August morning when the early sun was clearing the dew off the fields, what a sight to see the lovely white mushrooms dotting the field. They were more plentiful on pasture land. We would choose several long rushers, tie a knot at the end of each and thread our mushrooms on the rushers. We would make our way home, garlanded with long strips of mushrooms, then law them out on the griddle or hot coals, with a little salt on each, and cook them and they were really tasty. In our green grocers they have fresh morning gathered mushrooms, but I wouldn't like to guess which morning they were gathered.
When we were married, we lived at 90 Upper Tulse Hill. It was a huge old house, there were acres of gardens and fields. Most people had moved out and the children had the freedom to roam. The whole place was being developed. There was a very old guarded mulberry tree in our garden. The children liked to climb it. We had six children in that old house. Mary was only three weeks old when we moved to our new house here in Downham, with a big back garden for the children to play and a green and lovely big tree just opposite our front windows. The school, church and shops were all near, I have been very happy here.
When we moved here, Myles started to work for British Rail. He worked night shifts on one week in four. He cycled to work at Hither Green. He had an old heavy bike. He worked an eight hour shift. All our children were young then, and I worried about him cycling home in the early hours. One morning at about 4am, my nightmare came true when the police knocked at the door, asked me if my husband rode a cycle. I described the like and asked them what it was about, I thought he had an accident. He was in the police station in Catford charged with being drunk in possession of a bike. They were two young chaps, I felt like belting them. I asked them why they should think he was drunk. He was riding his bike erratically. I said, you mean he was taking both sides of the road. I told them he had been working the night before and were tired and hungry, not drunk, they wouldn't ride a bike in a straight line. They looked at each other. They must have thought, "we have a night one here". They said we'll have him home in half an hour, Myles made them let him off at the end of the road, not to give a free show the neighbours.
The bike was stolen a few weeks later. I was glad to see the last of it.
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