Satur­day Night and Sun­day Morn­ing

The London Magazine - - MARTINA EVANS - Martina Evans

Satur­day nights were some­thing back then be­fore Nuala got mar­ried and I was less than four – all the shoes laid out, pol­ished the night be­fore – lined up, stretched and empty like our stom­achs, Nuala’s work with help from us, the younger ones, the smell of Kiwi pol­ish sharp against our fast. All-night fast­ing was pre-Vat­i­can Two so be­fore ‘64 or maybe it was ‘68 when the rules were passed. The high ex­pec­ta­tion of the ironed dresses laid out with socks and cardi­gans, Nuala’s sus­penders and stock­ings – it was pre-tights. On Sun­days af­ter Mass we ran like mad down the road be­fore a dressed-up crowd pur­su­ing us to the bar for Cad­burys and Guin­ness, Pow­ers, Time and Bass.

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