Charles Street on a frosty morning in December 2024
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John O’Connell’s Christmas Memories
( as related to his wife, Noreen)
“In our house in Curraghatoosane ( Botharín Dubh), Christmas preparations started with white washing. Lime was mixed with water and a little bluestone added and this was painted on with a wide brush or sometimes the sweeping brush.
Red berried holly was picked up in the Hickeys and a few red or white candles were stuck in a turnip or a 2 pound jam crock filled with sand and decorated with a piece of red crepe paper if we had it.
The crib was set up on the wide window sill and decorated with holly or laurel.
On Christmas Eve I went off shopping with my mother on our ass and cart. My job was to hold the ass as mother leisurely shopped, in all the shops where she left her loyal custom throughout the year. Here she got a “Christmas box” as a present. This was usually a fruit cake wrapped in festive parchment with a lovely little shiny garland around it or a small box of biscuits.
There was no rush on mam, or no great worry about poor me in my short pants, patiently awaiting by his docile ass. Throughout the long shopping trek, I got a bottle of Nash’s red lemonade and a few thick ha’penny biscuits.
It was up Church street to Barretts shop and bar, Lena Mullalys, O Grady’s Arch store, to Guerins in Market Street, John Joe Kenny’s in the Square and many more smaller shops in town, for flour and meal, tea and sugar, jam, biscuits, jelly a cut of beef, lemonade, and lots of stout and a bottle or two of sherry.
Eventually with our cart laden with the provisions and the bottles rattling away in long wooden boxes ( which would be returned with the empties after Christmas), we set off home, poor Neddy and me, tired and cold but mother content and fulfilled and warmed by perhaps the drop of sherry or perhaps a little hot toddy she might have shared in a Snug with a friend she met on her shopping expedition!!
The last stop was at Jack Thornton’s for a few black jacks, and slab toffee which revived my drooping spirits. As we travelled home the homes were ablaze with lighted candles . It was a sight to behold, which I can still see as plain today as it was 70 years ago. There was very little traffic back then but I lit the way home with the torchlight for mam, me and Neddy . The “ Flight to Curraghatoosane”!
Next it was to untackle and feed and water our gentle, compliant ass, unload the messages and join my father and 3 brothers for a welcome bite. I was the 2nd eldest of four boys and felt high and mighty to be chosen to chaperone my mother. “Mother’s pet,” says Noreen!!
Next morning we were awake at cock crow to open our purties. (These were sometimes hidden in the meal bin and one year we were informed of this by an older neighbouring boyo and when the coast was clear one day, we searched and found the hidden cache.We were smart enough to remain silent so nobody spilled the beans. ) We walked, fasting, down to 7 a.m Convent Mass. Then home to play with and maybe dismantle a purty to investigate its workings.
The stuffed goose was roasting in the bastible. What a glorious smell . I loved the delightful brown gravy, carrots, turnips and pandy, all from our own garden. As well as supplying milk in town, we had a fine market garden and so we had plenty of fresh vegetables. The trifle dessert was such a treat.
Next day –St Stephens day was gambling day in our house, when the neighbours congregated to play 110 which could last for days, even into weeks. Plenty porter was gratefully accepted and savoured as well as tea and cake.
As I got older St Stephen’s day was the day for the wran (wren). We started getting ready early in the day and it was the day that the fancy cake garland that came around the “Christmas box” cakes, were recycled and transformed into part of the” wran “head dress. We had a fantastic wrenboy group, known as the Dirrha wrenboys, captained by the well -known Sonny Canavan. A wren dance followed in a few weeks, hosted often in our home and was the event of the year with music, song and dance and 2 half tierces, and attended by locals and visitors and denounced from the pulpit by the parish priest, if he came to hear of it.”
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Small Taste of the Marvellous Tractor Run
John B. Keane Road on Sunday December 8 2024
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A Poem and a Memory
Johnny Joy shared this lovely memory on Facebook.
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Woodford Pottery
Pat has been so busy this year that he didn’t have enough stock to do the Christmas craft fairs. So the mountain had to come to Mohammed. Woodford pottery pots are absolutely beautiful. His lovely shop is well worth a visit for a hand crafted special present. He sells online now too, if you can’t make it to Woodford or to one of the many shops he supplies.
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A Lovely Door deserves a Lovely wreath
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A Timely Poem for Christmas 2024
SILENT NIGHT
by Mary McElligott
Please Santa, will you help us,
Wake the world for all to see
What has happened to my home
And all the ones here ‘round me?
I search the sky with my stinging eyes
Hoping to see your sleigh
But bombs and rockets just keep falling
And will frighten ye away.
Our new house has just 3 walls
And carpet for the door.
There’s loads of us which keeps us warm
As we’re squashed down on the floor.
I miss my nan and mom I do
As we all here just moved on.
I don’t believe my dad no more,
I’m worried that they’re gone.
I don’t want toys at all this year,
Just bring lots of food like bread
And rice and flour and coats and shoes,
Just stuff like that instead.
When you’re up around the stars
Can bombs be turned around?
Maybe you can stop them
Before they hit the ground.
Why are we here like this?
What did we all do wrong?
I hate to go to sleep at night.
I hope you won’t be long
‘Cause Santa can you bring us peace
And oil too for our light?
I’m tired now, I hope I sleep.
I’d love a silent night.
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A Fact
Ice age people used human skulls as cups
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