My mother ,God rest her soul, was Peggy Mc Cormack from the Curragh Boreen.She married Dave Stephens ,my father, a Welshman and they settled in Blanchardstown,where nine of us children lived in tough times.She kept hens and was a great woman to bake brown bread.She knew her hens and could tell to the hour when a hen was going to kick the bucket.Not that any hen got the grace of a natural death, She would have it butchered ,plucked and boiled before the the hen itself knew it was even sick.It could be boiled for two days until the consistency of leather was softened to edible status ,but mixed with carrots ,onions and spuds it made a welcome and tasty repast.At one stage also we were feasted on goat meat.This came about because the present Michael Callaghan used slaughter goats from a feral herd that ran in Conlons for their pelts.No one in Dunderry would eat the meat,a fact that my uncle Paddy ,who worked in Conlons told my mother.Well we did and were glad of it.Of course we told our neighbours it was lamb and no more than ourselves they couldn't tell the difference.My mother and my aunt Molly could cook anything to a palatable state including hare which is a tough son of a bitch.This would have been learned from their own mother,who reared a big family in really tough times.including the war years.
My mother and her siblings,particularly Molly,Joe and Tommy,neither of whom married and lived their lives in the home place.were very close as also were Jimmy and Paddy who did marry.
About twice a year she would cajole my father to drive her from Blanchardstown to the Curragh to visit them.My father was very fond of them also and this was never a barrier to the journey,but my mother was the worst person to travel ever born.Not only did she suffer from travel sickness after just a mile,but she was convinced that my father was the worst driver ever born.She was wrong in this.He must have been the best driver ever born,as with such a big family to support,he had successively the worst cars I have ever seen and only a genius could keep them on the road. They were only sporadically taxed and this added spice to any long journey.Those times gardai were local and bar you were a bowsie,the local gardai tended to turn a blind eye to minor transgressions like that.God be with days.Mammy would be mortified if they were stopped for tax.Local gardai liked nothing better than to summons a stranger to show respectable statistics.
Thus on the journey down,she would plonk herself on the back seat of the car in regal fashion,surrounded by every travel sickness pill known to man,with a rosary beads constantly on the go exhorting the DA to slow down from the thirty mines per hour that was the maximum speed on offer.
No wonder he smoked not only from the woodbine's but also from the ears.
Now Pat Rattigan lived next door to my people in the Curragh.a life long bachelor he was like one of them.He built a functional two room house,a bedroom and a kitchen joined by a corridor into which the front and only door opened.No jacks nor indoor water.A most perceptive and ecologically sound man.Well before his time.
His main passions in life were Meath football and horse racing.Instead of wallpaper his walls were covered with newspaper cuttings of football teams and racehorses.His cooking was done on either the open fire or on an electric heater turned upwards.He had an inbred cat with truncated front legs which he called Skippy .He used give the leftover bread to the uncle's horses and pet lambs,who would come to him on sight.In fact the lambs got so attached to him that they used run to meet him on his way home with provisions on his Honda fifty and eat any bread from the bike carrier.In the end he carried home the provisions tucked inside the breast pocket of his overcoat.
The Mac Cormack's bought the Irish Press and they all shared it.He bought the Evening Herald and they all shared it.He had no well and would be in every day for water and the craic.The were like one big happy family.( When he eventually died the fact that he hadn't called for a few days triggered the alarm,about which more anon.)
Pat loved a small gamble and was an authority on horse racing.In particular he loved a jockey called Johnny Roe,who was a top class jockey.Pat was one of the most prolific cursers I ever met.Every sentence had a curse word in it it and he himself wouldn't realise he was cursing.He meant no harm by it and everybody loved him.
Whenever my mother landed on visit Pat would be in ,sitting on the stairs and the best conversationalists in the business would let loose.No T.V. no radio blaring.Pure conversation.Plenty of argument ,even roaring but no rancour.
On one such visit the talk turned to horse racing.Pat was in his element.He said several times "Johnny Roe is the best F....in jockey that ever rode a horse."
Now this would be double dutch to my mother,who,unlike daddy had no interest in horses.had never smoked,was in a pub so rarely that it didn't register on the Richter scale and would have drank no more than a half dozen "drinks with the deer" i.e .babychams ,in her lifetime.
Well some months after the visit the DA landed home one Friday night with a few jars on board and in thundering form.He had just collected on a big nixer (without theses we would have starved),and after parting with my ma's share,still had a good wad left.He was going to the Park races (Phoenix Park to you )and wanted a companion.One by one we declined,Football or hurling or whatever,but the ma didn't let him down."If no one else goes with you I'll go Dave"says she,and the craic was on.
The next day they got the 39A bus from Blanch to the Park.He paid in for both,bought race cards ,gave the ma a score and pointed her towards the Tote,informing her that he was going to the ring and would be backing with the bookies.They would meet up afterwards at the exit and go home together.
Mammy hadn't a clue and hesitantly made her way to the Tote scrutinising the Race card.The only thing that made sense to her was Johnny F in Roe.She placed a half dollar (2s and 6pence)win on him.He obliged and she later told me she collected twenty seven pounds odd.on the ticket and scooped up the money and ran away in case the teller made a mistake.She backed Johnny Roe every time and as far as I know he had the best race meeting of his career that day winning all the races.
She met the DA at the exit as appointed and kept mum.He had lost the lot and hadn't even the bus fare home.She paid it and said nothing until they got home when she opened up ,asked him did he want the price of a pint and threw him one hundred and fifty pounds.And she had loads left for herself.
Good on ya Johnny Roe and Pat Rattigan.I pray that there is horseracing,gambling,conversation and Babychams in Heaven.
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