Grandad April 29th, 2008
I have been memed yet again.
Normally I would go into a rant and tell yiz all to feck off, but this particular millstone has been handed to me by Sinéad, so I’ll be nice for once.
Usual rules apply…
Link to the person that tagged you.
Post the rules on your blog.
Write six random things about you in a blog post.
Tag six people in your post.
Let each person know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
Let the taggee know your entry is up.
My problem now is that I have done this one so many times before that I have run out of interesting things to say. So I’m going to vary the theme a bit and do six memories of childhood.
My earliest memory is of sitting in my pram at the age of 18 months. I had a blue Dinky lorry that I dropped out of the pram, and I cried. I still have that lorry, though it’s a bit battered now. On another occasion, I remember my mother talking to a shopkeeper, and I wondered why they were making those strange sounds to each other. Was this my first appreciation of language?
From the age of five, I used to walk to school every day. It was about a mile and a half. A girl from nearby used to collect me and walk with me. She was about nine or ten, and I thought she was terribly old.
I was a member of Rathmines library, and used to cycle there every couple of weeks. My favourite authors were Arthur Ransome and Monica Edwards. I once arrived home and found I had lost all the books off the carrier of my bike. I was gutted. They all were returned safely.
My favourite shop was Geary’s on St Stephens Green at the top of Grafton Street. They sold bikes on the ground floor, but upstairs was a haven of Airfix models and Hornby train sets.
My favourite pastime was to cycle down to the quays and watch the men unloading coal off the ships and loading Guinness onto other ships. Maybe that’s what started me on the rocky road?
My favourite journey was one we did most years – to get the mail-boat to Holyhead in Wales [it was either on the Hibernia on the Canberra - there were only the two ships], and then the mail-train to London. That involved a long stop at Crewe while they loaded and unloaded the mail. I used to love watching the steam engines shunting in the yards there. We also passed by the village of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, where the station name took up most of the length of the platform.
So that’s it. Boring, huh?
Instead of passing this on, why don’t we try an experiment? I’m tired of telling you boring things about myself, so why don’t you ask me what you want to know? The chances of my answering are slim, but you never know?
And then nip over to Eolaí’s site and buy a painting. He is selling them at ridiculous prices and they are selling fast, so you’d want to be quick!
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