“Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now”
Bob
Today , ( your yesterday), I was in the Chester Beatty museum/library and spent a while in their new ‘Manuscripts & The Mind’ exhibition , which has the tasty strapline “ How we read and respond…”. It wouldn’t be everyone’s ‘cup of tea’, much like the museum itself, but I loved the exhibition, and generally like the Chester Beatty regular exhibits.
On one of the navigational/explanatory signs in the exhibition it mentioned in passing, while explaining format and design of the written page :
“Even a blank page communicates something: a beginning, an ending, or both.”
It stopped me in my tracks… but we’ll get back to that.
Since we’ve last met I have had the incredible honour and privilege of jogging around the fine avenues, market squares, greens, and byways of my birthplace, Dundalk. My Soulmate, our deadliest daughter , Robyn, and her partner in crime, Dundalk John, and his glorious sister, Kimberley, all took part in the Dundalk Half Marathon , last Sunday.
I was born in Dundalk in 1967, and lived there until I was 9 ,when we moved to Monaghan. Monaghan is definitely home, but there are still threads that pull occasionally towards Dundalk…affectionately known as ‘The Town’.
In every run/race , every participant is running their own run. Not against anyone, not to beat anyone, not to beat a previous time….Oh wait , sorry, lots of people are trying to do that. I’m not. Not really. Almost as soon as we started, Dundalk John tore off , Eileen and Robyn started chatting, and I gradually fell a little behind and reminisced…
We started on Francis St., ran up Park St. turned into The Demense and two memories struck me , firstly , I remembered as a kid walking along there with Granny Bond, whom everyone called Nanny, on our way up to the Louth Hospital, after we’d been playing in our cousins , the Muckians, garden and were having piggy back rides and I was carrying our Stephen, who was three at the time, and he started kicking me , like he’d seen jockeys do, and I threw him off and he broke his collar bone. In the mayhem afterwards older cousins were blamed, ( sorry Sheila and Jackie ), Mam and Dad whizzed off in the car with Stephen, and Nanny , John and I walked after them to the hospital. I was 8 and devastated. I thought he was going to die. And my mood was not helped by John, aged 5, asking Nanny “Is Paul going to jail for killing Stephen ?” and “Can I have a room of my own now ?”. Nanny , who had always acted more like a big sister to us, taught me a prayer on that walk that I’ve never forgotten, and , to this day recite for others :
“Our Lady , Our Mother, and, Our Queen , in the name of Jesus, and for the love of Jesus, I implore you to…” and then you mention what you’re hoping/wishing for. Strangely , as I’ve just written it out my main concern has been that my favourite Presbyterian, Richard, won’t challenge me on misplaced Oxford Commas.
Stephen lived.
John did not get his own bedroom.
Further along The Demense, on our left , was the old Magnet Cinema. I only ever went there once. It was a traumatic experience. I’ll pit the whole story in the P.Psss, but let’s just say that I’d finally , actually , got a date with a girl..and not just any girl, she was amazing. We were going to see an over 15’s movie and we were 15-ish…for younger readers this was a long, long time ago, and holding hands in public was telegraphed to your parents before you’d even got home, even if you were over 18 and working. We were chatting nervously in the queue to get in, and someone shone a light in our faces and said, loudly “You’re not 15!”… it was my Uncle Brian. He marched us past the ticket desk, so we got in for free, and then marched us up to the back row, gave me a wink and left. I can’t think immediately of what the opposite of an aphrodisiac is…but that was it.
As a child I remember all of the giant Elm trees being cut down in The Demense because of Dutch Elm Disease…maybe that’s a good name for your Uncle Brian escorting you and the girl of your dreams to the back row of the cinema.
Anyway, we then ran up along Market Square, which I remember as just being full of buses when we lived there, turned left on to Clanbrassil St.
We ran past the shop that Nanny bought me and all of my cousins our weekly comics, The Topper, Jack &Jill, and others that escape me now. We ran past the old Top Style shoe shop, owned by Felim, who was at our wedding, and was the person who convinced me, 30 years ago , to take a chance and grab the Skechers agency for Ireland..which I did, and which changed the direction of my life.
We ran past Deery’s , which is now Guineys, where my Mum still loves to tell the tale that , as a 2 year old, I spotted Ladybird pyjamas with frogs on them and shouted out “Look ! Mammy ! F&cks !”.
We passed St.Nicholas’ church , where we’d go to mass with Granny McKenna.
We ran out the old Newry Road…
If you read the old post in the P.S.ss you’ll read about the night I walked out that way and out the Doylesfort Road , with my cousin Grainne, who nursed my broken heart.
We ran past the graveyard where Auntie Ann is buried.
And then we turned at the roundabout and ran back. My Soulmate and Robyn waited at the bridge on the way back for me to catch up.
“Go on !” I said to Eileen.
“Robyn doesn’t want you out there on your own.”
I did my best to keep up.
Back over the bridge someone called out my name. It was our Gerry, with his family ! I stopped and took a selfie with them.
“I have oranges , sweets here in the bag..”
“No, I’m grand.”
He smiled at me. Three days later, in the office, he mentioned SEVERAL times , how many oranges , Strawberries, and black seedless grapes he’d brought in for the race that I hadn’t eaten.
Then he said the worst thing you could ever say to any runner that’s just doing their best.
“You’re doing great to be on your second lap. Some of these numpties are still on their first.”
“This is my first lap.”
“Oh…Well, it’s cold, so we probably won’t be here on your next lap…will I leave this bag here, if you want an orange on the next lap ?”
I don’t like runs/races with loops.
At the start of the second loop I caught up with Robyn and Eileen , who were chatting to Elliott, who had come along to cheer us on ( least he could do ), while they waited for me.
We ran on.
The second loop wasn’t as nostalgic as the first.
But we finished in good spirits.
And then sought spirits…in Mo Chara.
We caught up with Dundalk John, Kimberley, and their folks, and made plans to meet up later for dinner.
The eight of us had a lovely meal and then a lovely evening in Tatas, which I remembered as Sextons, and my Dad remembered as Mother Maguires. It was opposite what was once our Uncle Johnnie’s shop on the corner of Market St. and Chapel St., where I had my first ever job, aged 3, filling the cigarette machine, and learning curse words.
It was all magical !
And then we go back to our day-to-day.
I generally rebel against the very notion of a ‘day-to-day’.
But it’s unavoidable sometimes.
I do my best to rebel against it.
Although that’s not true. I don’t consciously fight against anything really, I just seem to see ordinary wonder more often…that’s not fair either, really. I have the luxury of pottering about a lot, when others have to work. A luxury I don’t always appreciate.
Today, ( your yesterday ), I met a friend for coffee in the Chester Beatty. After a while he asked if I was tired… of things, as I seemed less ‘buoyant’ than usual. I was taken aback. I thought for a moment, and then tried to explain that I’d let a number of things that wouldn’t normally trouble me, trouble me.
And I hadn’t actually realised it until he shone a light on it.
But as soon as he said it I was immediately transported upstairs , in front of that info sign talking about a blank page.
And I smiled.
There are beginnings and endings, of chapters, of stories.
And we all have the luxury of deciding what we write on the next blank page…
Toodles,
Paul
P.S. This is funky, like you
P.P.S This is an audio of an old blog about the Devil…who is a small , white pony , called Humphrey.
P.P.P.S And this is a story of wasted love :
Wasted Love
I think it was in 1982…
That’s a lie.
It was absolutely in 1982 that it happened.
It happened at 9.35pm.
It happened in Evita’s nightclub in the Fairways Hotel in Dundalk. I think it’s a large SuperValu supermarket now, and somewhere in the rubble underneath are pieces of my shattered ‘First Love’ heart.
You sometimes see in old Brat Pack movies the uncool kid who when challenged about not having a girlfriend states unconvincingly “ I do have a girlfriend, but she lives in Canada, that’s why you’ve never seen her.”
I was that kid, sort of.
Sort of , in that I lived in Monaghan rather than Chicago, and my girlfriend lived in Dundalk, rather than Canada.
Oh yes,, I did indeed have a girlfriend…sort of.
Sort of, in that she had at one point fancied me enough to be my girlfriend, and I CERTAINLY wanted her to be my girlfriend, and for a long time after she’d wisely changed her mind, I was blissfully unaware.
In case anyone actually reads this far, I’ll start referring to her as Athena, for fear that I accidentally start using her real name, Aine.
Like all great mythical romances, (yes I am reading Stephen Fry’s magnificent ‘Troy’ at the moment) , ours started due to my friendship with her brother. Yes, it’s odd that I’d have a friend in Dundalk, while living in Monaghan, and that’s a whole other story in itself, which we’ll come back to another day, but for the moment, the circumstances which led to our stars aligning involved my family moving from Dundalk to Monaghan but as practically all of our relatives ,on both Mam and Dad’s side, still lived in Dundalk we were frequent visitors there. And our neighbour in Monaghan , Mrs.Turley, was godmother to a chap who lived in Dundalk, but bumped into us one day when his parents were visiting his godmother and ever after, would visit her on most school holidays and we’d spend the whole time in either our house or next door in Turleys, which was way cooler, as the Turley kids, Greg, Denise, and Kitty were much older than us and for some reason spoke to us as adults, or at least fellow versions of whatever they were.
As we got older, we’d attend ‘discos’ in Ballinode hall, Urbleshanney, and even Roslea, but mostly we’d stay in Turley’s chatting to Denise, listening to The Kinks, and waiting for Greg and Kitty to come home after the Hillgrove with all of their mates, and we were fascinated by them , and no doubt, sources of entertainment to them.
Yes, so that’s the short version of that bit.
As we got older, to the staggering age of 14 or 15 no less, I’d sometimes stay with my friend in Dundalk…wait, I haven’t told you his name yet, I’ll refer to him as Achilles, in case I inadvertently say Adrian.
I casually mentioned to Achilles one day….Oh, before I forget, for anyone who follows these blogs, Achilles’ was the one who lived above the bar and who I watched The Excorcist with…so I casually mentioned that Athena was…nice. He looked at me as if I had two heads.
“Do you fancy her ?”
“Me ? Nah, just saying she’s..”
“My sister ?”
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s just that she said that she fancies you.”
“Did she ?”
“Yeah. She’ll be disappointed to learn you don’t fancy her.”
“Jesus ! Do I ever fancy her !”
That’s how it started. And ideally , for all concerned, that’s where it should have ended. But no, I now thought I had a girlfriend. The next holiday was Halloween and this time Athena accompanied Achilles to Monaghan to stay with the Turleys. We went to a bonfire at another friends farm, did Halloween stuff, went to a disco, and I think at one point I actually held her hand, which consummated our relationship in my mind, but never dared to attempt a kiss, which probably confirmed Athena’s worst fears about me.
She went home, I promised to write…and I did, annoyingly frequently.
There’s a bit of a blur, and the timeline may not be exact, but I do recall writing to her and mentioning that every time I heard the Steve Miller Band’s ‘Abrakadabra’ on the radio I thought of her.
I think the next time we met was in Dundalk , I stayed with them, the temple of Achilles & Athena, and we went to the Magnet cinema on a proper date, just the two of us. The movie escapes me…and that’s really annoying me now… it wasn’t Porky’s…but it was a similar Yankee teenage titillation movie. But as we’re in the queue to pay, a man approaches us, my Uncle Brian ! I think we’d both been nervous as it was a 15’s movie and we were just about 15, and then we’re spotted by my Uncle Brian.
My Uncle Brian was a wonderfully intimidating man, who seemed to support every team who played against yours, without ever declaring in advance who he supported, and from my earliest recollection had always growled at me whenever I said hello.
Now here he was in an official capacity in the cinema which I’d intended to be the ’Theatre of Dreams’ but was now a nightmare. My parents knew I was in Dundalk staying with Achilles, but they would have been surprised to know that I was out , unchaperoned, with his beautiful sister, Athena.
“Your money’s no good here. Follow me.”
Athena and I dutifully followed my Uncle Brian, bypassing the ticket desk, into the cinema where he escorted us to the back row, and growled at two other patrons to move across so that we had the best view. He then just nodded to me and left.
I was in shock.
My goal was to kiss Athena, in the dark , in the cinema. To be honest, I just wanted to kiss her, broad daylight, twilight, Clanbrassil St., Mrs.Turley’s living room….
It was not to be.
I think I was so consumed with fear that Uncle Brian was already on the phone to Dad, that’s why I can’t remember the movie.
The next day I bought Athena a bracelet and had Achilles leave it under her pillow.
That Christmas she bought me a Phil Collin’s album.
I should have taken that as a sign.
But no.
I persisted.
Again , this is the shortened version, but Achilles started singing ‘Abracadabra’ whenever we met, and Athena didn’t want to visit Monaghan.
The Easter holidays approached.
So I arranged to stay with my cousin Grainne, and meet Athena at the teenage disco in Evita’s …
Grainne came with me to the ‘disco’ , kept me company until Athena and her friends arrived, and left me alone for a bit, while Athena politely danced with me, and her friends moved away…
I knew it was coming. My throat went dry, I couldn’t speak coherently, she was trying to smile. She said…she said something very nice and gentle…I’m sure…I couldn’t hear it over the splintering of my heart. And then wouldn’t you know it ? The DJ played Stephen fucking Miller and his poxy Band’s ‘Abracadabra’…and I STUPIDLY said “For old time’s sake ?” and angel that she was, she started to dance with me. She danced and I Frankensteined from foot to foot.
Before the song finished Grainne ran towards us “PAUL ! There you are ! Come over here, my friends are all waiting !” She grabbed me by the arm and took me away. She marched me straight outside, let me cry, got me on the shuttle bus into the Square, bought me chips and then we walked the whole way out to Doylesfort Road. Alone and together. Anytime I said ‘Athena’ , she said ‘Bitch’.
Was my love wasted ?
God no !
I was a complete idiot, still am.
For an incredibly important and formative part of my life, I grew up with Achilles, had wildly different experiences of music thanks to Kitty and Denise, and for the first time ever someone said they fancied me… it was like Dobby being thrown a sock ! But also , years and years later I found out that Uncle Brian never mentioned to Mam or Dad that he’d ever met me that weekend , let alone got me in for free to the back row …in the Magnet , where, in Mam & Dad’s time, Fr. Campbell used to walk up and down the aisles shining a torch at courting couples.
Grainne and I walked three miles home that night. We were honest in a way with each other, through youth and naivete, that only that circumstance allowed. I’ll never forget it, for good and , what seemed at the time bad reasons, but weren’t.
The odd thing is that I was sitting here earlier with no idea about what to write and listening to the radio when Sean Rocks on his RTE 1 ‘Arena’ programme was discussing a new Bee Gees biopic and I was immediately transported to my cousins’ house in Dundalk, and their Jackie magazines, Grease, Travolta, and Bee Gees fanzines.. and to how much they meant to me when we were kids, they were my sisters…and how Grainne marched me into the old Dundalk Shopping Centre to Slipped Discs on the first floor and demanded that , without a receipt , they exchange my Athena gifted Phil Collins album for ‘Complete Madness’ by Madness.
Nothing is ever wasted.
We are where we are thanks to all the magnificent souls we meet along the way, and , without exception , they have all been MAGNIFICENT !
