My dad and uncles banished to a car, radio blaring, their running commentary giving Micheal O'Muircheartaigh a run for his money. 'C'mon Down','Up Down', 'C'mon Meath', 'C'mon the wee county !' 'Ah Ref ! Ref, where's your glasses ?' The Bomber Liston, Nudie Hughes, Barney Rock - Giants of men,
Nana's raspberry jam filled rock buns, crunchy on the outside, coated with sugar crystals. The allysum rockery.
Mam and the aunties roaring with laughter in the kitchen. Talking over each other, one joke worse than the last. 'Cackling like hens', my Dad said.
Collecting fir cones, Iced Caramels, signing your name on Yucca leaves, nudie girls on the Sunday World, St Martin's magazine.
Darkie and Dino hiding under beds to stay out of children's paths, collecting blackcurrants and exchanging stamp collections, fresh floury curranty bread with butter.
Chubby fingers and skint knees, trees laden with cooking apples. Walking to Tenanty's shop. Wham bars crackling in your mouth
The Bellew boys playing music in the old house, rock stars to a 9 year old. When 'exotic' meant a visit from the Newry cousins.
Auntie Aine's red leather boxed record player. The good parlour. Brass ornaments. Souvenirs from Fr John. Telling tales
Blue eye shadow and cotton dresses. Pat and Betty's magical garden. Aine sunbathing with knickers on her head to protect her hair dye, slathered in sun tan lotion.
Politics, Fine Fail, Fine Gael, For Fucks Sake.
Crosswords, but no cross words.
Tea in china cups. Yellow roses and sucking bitter honey from fuschia by the gate. Willow pattern.
'Ah, Ref ! Ref !'
.................................
In memory of my uncle Pat and aunties Moira and Aine.
No comments:
Post a Comment