Colourful memories of bygone days

Anyone passing Cooney’s in Quilty on Thursday, September 1, might have been tempted to park up and drop in. Upon entering, the visitor would have learned that those partying in the middle of the day were nearly all over 90 years of age.
Some of the senior citizens who attend the ClareCare Daycare Centre in Miltown Malbay were on a day out, under the supervision of Cait Ní Loinsigh.
Among those present was 95-year-old Bridie Carey from Craggane, Quilty, who farmed all of her life.
“I was farming since I was a child. I loved it. It was tough sometimes but at the same time I was interested in what I was doing,” Bridie told The Clare Champion.
Bridie has fond memories of saving hay but not so benign recollections of long days saving turf in the bog. “Footing turf? I used to hate it. I’m telling you, it was tough on the back,” she grimaced.
Bridie also clearly remembers hand-milking cows but says she never got a kick from one.
“Thank God, I never did,” she laughed, although she acknowledged cows could be troublesome, depending on the season. “The cows would start calving and you’d be tormented,” she said.
Mary Murrihy from Knockbrack, Miltown Malbay (93) also made her living on the land.
“We’d no electricity, number one and we had to hand-milk the cows. The water was in the well and we had to get our bucket and draw the water from the well. We washed the clothes in the kitchen with our scrub board. Then, if it was a fine day, we took them to the well and rinsed them out there and hung them up on the line. Everything was very hard,” Mary recounted.
Cycling was her primary mode of transport. “We cycled to mass and we cycled into town for our shopping. We packed up the bag and had it on the handlebars and a bag behind us on the carrier. Sure, there was no other transport,” Mary added.
Ideally, Mary would still like to be allowed to cycle but a stop was put to that when she hit 80.
“That’s a fact. And do you know what happened? My son took the bicycle off me and locked it up. He said ‘she’ll get killed on the road because she’s stone deaf’,” the now former cyclist explained.
Aside from her cycling ban, Mary is content with life. “I’m very, very lucky. I’ve a daughter-in-law right next door to me. She’s from County Cork and she’s lovely. She’s very kind to me and I’m as fond of her as I’m of any daughter. I’m a lucky woman,” she reiterated.
When she finds a spare moment, Mary pulls out the needle. “I’m still doing crochet. Some of the grandchildren are in America. They come home and they say ‘Nana, I’d give anything for that in America’. They tell me exactly what they want,” she revealed.
On September 26, Nonie Pilkington, who lives in Coore, will turn 92. Originally from near Clohanes in Doonbeg, Nonie remembers saving the turf in Shragh.
“We had to go to Shragh, which was a distance of eight miles, to save the turf. Roads were anything but good so we’d have to take the meal with us in the bag. It was a long day but there would always be the crowd of people around. You’d never be short of company,” Nonie reminisced.
Farming and saving turf aside, Nonie also liked dancing in her younger days. “Doonbeg Hall was our nearest. We’d go to the other places too like Kilkee and Mullagh,” she said.
These days Nonie loves visiting the daycare centre in Miltown Malbay.
“It’s a new life, all thanks to Cait. We’re meeting the people that we had known formerly. It brings life back again,” she reflected.
The only survivor of her primary school class, which had 15 pupils, Nonie feels time is flying by a bit too quickly for her liking.
“I think the years aren’t as long at all as what they used to be. We’ve only about three-quarters of a year now. The week is gone before you feel it,” she smiled.
Martin Walsh from Creeva is 93 and has a rather colourful life behind him. He is hoping to reach 100.
“I might. If there’s anything out of it, I will,” he joked.
During his 10 years in England, Martin worked as a machine driver and as a bouncer in dance halls frequented by Irish people.
“They weren’t happy only when they were fighting. They loved it man,” Martin said of the fighting Irish in London. “All drink,” was his explanation behind Irish men’s interest in fighting.
Following his decade in England, Martin returned home to farm. However, he says that while bouncing, he was able to look after himself. “I was well able to fight,” he laughed.

The ClareCare Daycare Centre in Miltown Malbay is open three days weekly and caters for approximately 65 senior citizens.

Miltown storyteller spins a yarn

FRANCIE Kennelly (93) from Leeds, Miltown Malbay, is a renowned storyteller.
He has told stories at festivals in Sidmouth, England, at Dublin’s Scéalta Shamhna; at the Irish Centre in Hammersmith, London; the Waterman’s Arts Centre; Verbal Arts Centre in Derry; Collins Barracks and on The Pure Drop for RTÉ.
“Life is fairly good. I’d be alright but I’ve got arthritis,” Francie told The Clare Champion at the Miltown Daycare Centre outing in Quilty.
“We had terrible (good) air. Our land is in Rockmount and it’s 600ft above sea level. I suppose with that air and I had a good appetite, it helped a bit,” was Francie’s explanation for his excellent health.
“T’was all bacon and cabbage long ago. It was very healthy feeding,” he added.
Asked to tell a story, the following is what Francie came up with:
‘There was this man and he lived below in Miltown. There were three or four girls and one boy on the farm. The girls were gone away; they had emigrated.
His mother had great value on this boy, him being the only son. They were keeping him for the land. Every morning when he’d get up, his shoes would be warmed and his stockings would be warmed and there’d be two duck eggs boiled for him for the breakfast. He was pampered like that.
But he got a fit of travelling. He got a fit of emigrating but they stopped him. He tried to go to America but they stopped him. He had nothing to do in the finish but join the English army.
You know yourself, the discipline was terrible (strict) in the English army that time. Up at six o’clock in the morning when the bell would ring, there were no two duck eggs for him there.
He went down the town with a crowd of the boys, the evening he got paid anyway. He weighed himself and he found out that he’d a stone lost since he left Ireland.
It frightened him and he wrote home to his father. You could be bought out of the English army that time for £50. So he wrote home to the father for £50 but the father wouldn’t send it to him.
He had it alright. He had it in the bank but he wouldn’t send it. He said ‘stay there now and a few years of it will do you no harm’.
About a fortnight or three weeks later, didn’t the father die sudden. He got a week’s leave from the English army and he came home. The father was buried and everything was going smooth.
But his mother gave him a pound to come up to Miltown and give it to the priest to say masses for his father’s soul. But the first public house he met, when he came up to Miltown, he went in. Porter was only tuppence ha’penny a pint at the time.
Of course, a pound would buy you a lot of porter. He got plenty help. He drank the pound anyway and he went home. The mother asked him how did he get on with the priest?
‘I didn’t go near him at all,” he said.
She got very cross with him. ‘Why?’ said she.
‘If he’s in hell ’tis no good to him. If he’s Heaven he doesn’t want it. But if he’s in Purgatory a few years of it will do him no harm.’