Memories of expectation and joy from the
My home from the age of four to twelve years was a business premises bought by my father at 47 O’Connell Street, Clonmel. Clonmel is the county town and the largest town of Tipperary. Previous to our ownership, the business had, at one stage, been a bakery as well as a large bar and grocery, and so the whole house was very large.
The yard was enormous. There was a huge shed where my brother Pat kept pigeons. There were breeding cages the length of, probably, a fifty-foot wall. There were a few garages backing onto Peter’s Street, which we rented out. Also, there were some outhouses, facing onto the side of the yard, which would be engulfed in lilac in the month of May. In a corner was a small yard with a fourteen-step fire escape that led to the first floor.
This was a great house to grow up in as there was always somewhere to hide if you did not want to be found. I have many happy memories of all parts of this home and some of the most vivid are to do with Christmas.
Sunday being a closed day in the business, we usually went for a drive in the afternoon, usually to visit an aunt and uncle who lived in the country. On the Sunday before Christmas, we would pick holly and some snowberry for house and shop decoration. Everyone enjoyed bursting the little white berries of this seasonal shrub. I remember the joy of decorating the Christmas tree, but do not recall from where we got it. Even the doormat would be swapped from the usual coir one, to the Christmas design one.
Putting up the Christmas crib was a big event. The crib itself was made from marble chippings that my brother Jim, at the age of twelve, had gotten from Disney Monumental and Gravestone Works. He then built the crib around a wire support by setting the chips in cement. You can imagine the weight of the finished piece. I now have this crib. The figures of the crib are of china and were purchased in what was Carries’ Shop at 51 O’Connell Street, a shop that has not changed much since my childhood.
A box of glacé fruits and a box of delightfully coloured marzipan shapes, both in celluloid boxes through which you could see the tempting contents, were neatly laid on the sideboard, but were strictly out of bounds for us small folk. However, they and the adjoining crackers and the traditional Christmas cake, the real scene stealer, covered in snowy white icing and decorated with a cheerful marzipan sleigh, brimming with Santa and his gifts, added to the building excitement of that special week.
In the grocery-shop and bar, Christmas of course, was the busiest time of the year. Customers would hand in their orders about two weeks before D-Day. Dad would attend to the orders personally, while we children would find ourselves behind an array of cardboard boxes on the kitchen table. These boxes would then be filled with Christmas fare and treats and given as “Thank You Christmas Boxes'' to regular customers. There would be two lists to be followed. One for the big spending customers and one for the regular weekly customers. The difference between the two types of boxes being a bottle of whiskey or sherry omitted from the weekly customer box. Apart from tea, sugar, Oxford lunch cake, lemon sweets, some preserve, a jar of meat sandwich spread, a jar of chutney, a little tin of Goodall’s Cloves (I suppose for studding the ham or decorating oranges that would be used for tree decorations or pomanders), there would always be Chivver’s or Bird’s Jelly and a tin of Bird’s Custard. A tin of Ovaltine, a flagon of Cidona and two large bottles of Guinness would always be included.
By Christmas Eve, the big rush would be over and we would be able to enjoy the hustle and bustle of a regular household.
The preparation list would be checked; stuffing made, goose prepared (wings stored for future dusting chores), dumplings made, trifle made, marrowfats soaking, Brussel’s sprouts washed and their bases marked with crosses, potatoes parboiled, plum pudding steamed and most importantly, the ham boiled in readiness for after midnight Mass sandwiches with Cidona, a custom held in our house for many years.
Time then for a sit down and watching the fairy lights on the Christmas tree, sparkling and emitting their bright glow, a myriad of jewel and gem coloured fantasies, dancing extrovertly, leading our thoughts to whatever destination we wished for at that time. This was the time when the adults enjoyed some festive reading. Dad would immerse himself in the Holly Bough, mam enjoyed the Ireland’s Own magazine and Aunty would indulge in the variety that Old Moore’s Almanac provided. Then, the red Christmas candle would be placed in the window. Some believe that this custom was to light the way to guide any absent family member, others think it was to enable Joseph and Mary to find their way to the stable in Bethlehem on the first Christmas night. It is a custom that has lasted through the years.
WONDERLAND
The first Christmas after we moved to Clonmel, the joy and delight that were to be mine surpassed all words. Brady’s, which was a nursery equipment shop, concentrated on their toy section from November onwards. There was a huge shop window from ground level to first floor level. Inside the window, there were steps like a stairs, fitted across almost the full width of the window. There was just a little space to one side, presumably for the window dresser to go in and out, there must have been twelve or so steps which acted as shelves to hold and display maybe a couple hundred toys. Once the toys went on show, I was allowed to go there to plan what I would ask of Santa. We lived on the same street, so each evening after tea time I was allowed to set off. It was magic, pure wonderland. Mostly I had the whole area to myself, so I would bend, twist, stand on my toes and not miss even one toy. Hours were spent imagining the playtime I would spend with a chosen item, only to find that the next week I would have changed my mind and the excitement of a new plan would take over my head.
Eventually, on that first Christmas, the decision was made to ask for a doll’s pram. It seemed to me to be the most beautiful thing in the whole world. It was a replica of a Silver Cross baby pram. It had a navy body with silver stripes and