At the turn of the key, the engine roared into life and the two cousins, Patsy in the driving seat and Sean at his side, made their way to the ‘big field”. There was a bit of a bump at the entry to the field, but Patsy negotiated the entry slowly in a low gear and they got the trailer through the narrow gate-entry with inches to spare. It would be a good forty-five minutes before the baler would arrive. Patsy turned off the engine. The hay had been turned the previous morning and had a good days drying yesterday. They had been lucky this year weatherwise – the year before had been rainy in patches. Patsy drove the tractor down to the bottom of the field and parked on a piece of hard, stony ground. He switched off the engine. About fifteen minutes later a cyclist dismounted at the field entrance, set his bicycle beside the gate and made his way towards the two cousins. “Hi Kevin, good to see you’re early boy,” shouted Patsy. “I hadn’t much option – there was some boy operatin’ a pneumatic drill about twenty yards from our house this mornin’. Where’s everybody else?” “The baler won’t be comin’ until eleven.” “I take it there’ll be a bit of help comin’ as well. I mean – I don’t mind givin’ ye’s a hand but a ten-hour shift wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” “It ‘ll be good for ye Kev.,“,said Patsy. “Ye’ll be all fit and tanned ’n the women ’ll be chasin’ ye up the street.” “They’ll be callin’ you the fit farmer,” laughed Sean.“This ‘ll be as near as I ever get to bein’ a farmer,” said Kevin. “Up every mornin’, Sundays included, rain, sleet or snow, milkin, cows, diggin’ spuds, liftin’ hay. All that hard work would put ye in an early grave.” “I’d far rather have it than bein’ stuck all day on a buildin’ site, or even worse – in a bloody office, havin’ some prat tellin’ ye what to do all the time,” replied Patsy. “ There’s no such thing as a perfect job,” opined Sean “Oh aye there is”,said Kevin. “Playin’ for Celtic or even Liverpool. Playin’ football and gettin’ paid for it and the best thing is - ye’ve the whole summer off to do what ye want.” “Well – if ye ever make the big-time Kevin, ye’re always welcome back in our hayfield for a bit of summer relaxation,” joked Patsy. “Are ye seriously thinkin’ of playin’ soccer for a livin’ once ye leave school?” asked Sean. “Ye’ll have to travel over the water and there’s not that many that actually make it you know Kevin.” “Ye never know if ye don’t try,” said Kevin.“I’m goin, to give it a go.” “You’ll end up marryin’ some English doll and your weins ‘ll grow up talkin’ in Cockney accents just like them Brits that stopped us yesterday,” retorted Patsy. “As long as she’s got blond hair and big tits, I don’t care if her and the weins are all dumb,” replied Kevin and Sean and Patsy laughed. “What about youse two – are ye not thinkin’ of gettin’ out of this country when ye get a bit older?” asked Kevin. “I’d be happy enough helpin’ the oul’ fella on the farm and playin’ Gaelic, maybe for the county,” said Patsy. “If ye keep at it Patsy – ye’ll be playin’ for the county before you’re twenty,” replied Kevin. Football, Gaelic or soccer, was one topic which Kevin took absolutely seriously. “What about you, oul’ brainbox,” asked Patsy of his cousin, referring to the fact that Sean had got the second highest mark in maths in the summer class tests. “I haven’t a bloody clue,” retorted Sean. “You could be an accountant or’ somethin’, Sean” said Kevin, “and show me and Patsy how to fiddle our taxes.”
The three boys chatted on for a while. About 11 o’clock, the tractor with the baler behind it entered the field. The driver, a local farmer called Barney Maguire, steered the tractor down to the bottom, near to where the boys were sitting. He waved to them and proceeded to the far corner. He slowly made his way up the edge of the field and the first bale appeared from the tail of the baler. The boys, who were in no big hurry to start, let him go the whole way up before slowly ambling towards where the first bale had dropped. “There’s the reinforcements arrivin’ now,” observed Sean. His father had parked their blue Volkswagen Beetle over on the grass verge on the other side of the road and Peter and Gerry were making their way down. “Hi Sean – are none of your sisters comin’ to give us a hand?” asked Kevin.“They were goin’ to come only they heard you were a wee pervert and changed their minds,” replied Sean as he tossed Kevin’s hair with his hands. Patsy giggled as he lifted the bale out from the edge of the field – “Ahh, I hate those big heavy bastards at the side – they rip the s--t out of yer fingers!”Owing to the fact that the grass at the side of the field didn’t get as much sun because of the hedge, the bales tended to be heavier, and Sean usually dragged them by the side rather than lifting them by the rope.
“Hi – did I tell ye’s about the face I got on the last night of the youth club,”said Kevin in a quiet, entrez-nous tone, as he didn’t want his friends’ fathers overhearing the conversation. The youth-club in Lamagh which Sean and Patsy both went to occasionally, had closed for the summer, but both of them had missed the last night. “Naw – who was it?” replied an intrigued Patsy. Before Kevin could reply, Peter and Gerry came over to join them. Sean and Patsy would have to wait for a while before they would hear Kevin’s tale of romance. “Hello Kevin – thank for comin’ out to keep an eye on these boys,” joked Peter. “How are ye doin’ Mr Daly. Good day for the job,” replied Kevin. “Aye – hope it keeps that way. How’s yer mother keepin’ these days.” “She’s not doin’ too bad,” replied Kevin. Kevin’s father had passed away the year before of a heart-attack and Kevin’s mother had found it hard to cope. His father had only been fifty-four years of age and Kevin was the youngest of five children. Although his father had a bit of a gambling problem, Kevin had been hit hard by his father’s premature demise.
The five workers now started their days work in earnest. The bales would have to be built into little stacks of seven – two on the bottom, cut side down;two on top of them at 90degrees; two on top of that the same way as the first two and finally, one on top. The main job of the three boys was to bring the bales nearer each other so the two men could do the building. Sean was glad that it was a little cooler than yesterday. They proceeded slowly and methodically up the field. The conversation had died down for the time being as everyone concentrated on the job to be done.
Shortly before two o’clock, a few more people arrived at the field. Sean recognised them from a distance. It was his Uncle Philip, who was married to Aunt Teresa, his father’s younger sister. With him was his nine-year old son Thomas; a talkative, inquisitive child, if ever there was one. Thomas was too young to do any work - he just hung around the older boys and chatted incessantly, not caring whether he was being listened to or not. If none of the boys would answer one of his questions, he would ask another one. The previous year Patsy had found a frog and threw it at him. That had shifted him temporarily, but he still came back. Philip, who was short and a little overweight, greeted his wife’s brothers. He owned a grocers shop in Lisgannon and normally worked on Saturdays but had taken the day off at Teresa’s insistence. He was a jovial, friendly man and Sean quite liked him. He was quite different to his aunt Teresa, who was small, red-haired and quite sharp with her tongue. “What job would ye have for me?” asked Philip. “Peter has to go into Lamagh,” said Gerry, “so you can help us put a load on the trailer and we’ll take it down to the shed.” “Can I stay here Daddy?” pleaded Thomas. “Aye ye can son – but stay away from the baler.” “You’se keep an eye on him – we’ll be back in an hour,” instructed Peter. The three men went off to load the trailer. The three boys continued building, as most of the bales wouldn’t be lifted until at least the next day and they couldn’t be sure that the weather wouldn’t break. “Patsy – if you throw any frogs at me – I’ll tell my daddy on you.” “I don’t think there’s any frogs in this field Thomas – would ye like a spider instead?”
“DADDY- DADDY,” squealed Thomas. “He’s only carryin’ on,” reassured Sean. “He dosen’t have any spiders.” With the three men away, Patsy now had the chance to ask Kevin the question he had asked him earlier. He was especially curious as he
suspected he knew the answer. “Who did ye face at the youth club Kevin?” asked Patsy quietly, trying to keep out of Thomas’s earshot. “I’ll give ye a guess.” “Geraldine Donnelly.” “Naw – even better lookin’.” “It wasn’t Collette McCann was it.” A big smile came over Kevins face. “You lucky bastard – I got her under the mistletoe at Christmas but her oul’ fella’s always waitin’ outside for her in the car at 11 o’clock.” Not on the last night he wasn’t – she was stayin’ over with the Devlins that night.” “They live over the street from you, don’t they?” “I think ye’re getting’ the picture now,” replied a smiling Kevin. “What was it you were sayin’ last night about about livin’ out here in the country Patsy,” laughed Sean. “Where did ye take her to – did ye get much?” inquired Patsy who had forgotten about bales for the time being. “I couldn’t take her inside - me ma was up. I just faced her up against the wall at the back of the house.” “ I bet she didn’t let ye get anythin’”. “ I got her bra off – it took a bit o’coaxin’ and some awkward fingerwork, but I managed it”. “Did ye get any more than that”. “I was workin’ on that but the Devlin sisters came out lookin’ for her,” replied Kevin. Sean knew that Patsy fancied Collette McCann himself. He fancied her a bit too though he fancied Geraldine Donnelly more. Interested as he was in Kevin’s story, he couldn’t help noticing that young Thomas, who rarely shut up, was standing a few yards away from them and actually keeping quiet. “Thomas – why don’t you go and hide and I’ll try and find ye,” suggested Sean. “Naw – I don’t like playing hide-and-seek.” Patsy and Kevin continued to share stories about girls. Sean was glad that neither of them had managed to get off with Geraldine Donnelly, but he was uncomfortable about the fact that Thomas was overhearing the conversation. “Thomas – could you go down ’n get the bottle of water sittin’ on the back of the trailer,” requested Sean. “Naw – couldn’t be bothered.” “Jaysus – look what I see,” exclaimed Patsy. “What?” “A great big slimy – FROG!” shouted Patsy. Thomas had a look of terror on his face as he took to his heels. “That shifted the wee bugger,” laughed Patsy. “I don’t think ye should have done that Patsy,” said Sean. The conversation drifted onto other matters and Thomas went on his merry way walking around the field. Sean warned him to keep well away from the baler. “There was a wee boy from near here was dragged into one last year and it made mincemeat out of him,” lied Sean to his young cousin. The men returned. This time Sean’s mother and his Aunt Teresa were with them. Both of the women carried baskets. It was time for a break.
Brigid poured each of the workers a cup of tea from the flask. Barney Maguire came down to join them. “Do ye take sugar Barney?” “Aye – two please Brigid.” Teresa went around, offering the sandwiches which she had made earlier. “The balers goin’ all right today,” said Gerry to Barney. “Aye – thank God”, said Barney. “There’s nothin’ worse than gettin’ a good days weather and the bloody thing breaks down.” “Another hour and ye should have it baled Barney,”said Peter. “Aye – I’ve a wee field o’ me own to do after that,” replied Barney. “Have ye got anyone to give ye a hand?” inquired Teresa. “Me brother finishes work at five so he’ll be about,” replied Barney. Teresa gave her young son a cuddle. “Have you been helpin’ all the big boys with the hay, wee pet?” “Aye I have mammy. Mammy – guess what Patsy and Kevin were talkin’ about.” “I don’t know son – what were they talkin’ about?”
“Pullin’ bras aff gerls, mammy!”
There was a momentary uneasy silence. Sean was thankful that his young cousin had omitted him and he was trying hard to suppress a burst of laughter. Never had he wanted to laugh so much. Patsy’s face had gone a little pink, as had Kevin’s. Teresa bristled. “You pair should be ashamed of yerselves, goin’over chat like that in front of a wein!” “Better get back to work,” muttered Patsy, who was not known for getting up early from teabreaks. Kevin hastily followed him.
CHAPTER 3
Early September 1972
The summer of 1972 slowly passed by. For Sean, Patsy and Kevin, early September beckoned a return to school.
Sean was now going into his third year at the Christian Brothers College in Lamagh. He was in the “B” class. This would be the last year in which he would study a pre-set curriculum. At the end of the year, there would be examinations, after which he would decide what subjects to study for O-Level. Apart from the obvious subjects such as English, Mathematics, Geography and History, the curriculum also included a mixture of science and languages such as Physics Chemistry, French, Irish and Latin. This year there was also one period per week of a new subject called Elocution. Sean was curious as to what this new subject might be about. Some of his classmates found Irish a bit of a handful, but Sean’s weakness was most definitely the dreaded Latin. Patsy was equally incompetent at Latin, perhaps more-so, but he had a different attitude to his schoolwork than Sean, in that he didn’t take it too seriously. Mastering the declensions and remembering the multitude of words beginning with “q” was always a bit of a struggle for Sean. Sometimes he wondered how two Romans meeting in a street could ever have had a chat with each other. To compound the problem, the Brother who taught the subject, Br. Francis, was a rather sarcastic character. Rather than physically punish his charges, he would subject them to his own unique brand of putdown humour and no one was spared.
On the first day back (a Friday), the boys shared stories about the events of the previous eight weeks. Some of them had been to the Gaeltacht in Donegal to further their ability to speak Irish and had had a great time. Sean told the story about Kevin and Patsy’s conversation in the hayfield which a lot of his classmates found very amusing. Kevin was in no way upset about Sean’s verbal recollection of this event as it portrayed him as a bit of a ladies man and indeed he was quite proud of his ‘conquest’.
The timetable for the year was given out and it was much as expected. Classes were divided into thirty-five minute periods. They had four periods of P.E. in the week - two on Tuesday morning and two on Thursday evening. Sean also noted that there was a double period of Latin on Tuesday afternoon. This made him a little uneasy as it was always harder to escape the personal scrutiny of a teacher during a double period.
The boys were let out at half-day after morning Mass in the local church. Sean and his mammy went shopping on Saturday for a few books, a new pair of trousers and a new pair of shoes.
On Monday 4th September the lessons began. The first day of classes passed satisfactorily The school dinner of sausages, beans and chips which they served at the canteen every now and again was as tasty as ever. The same couldn’t be said of every school dinner though. Tuesday morning was O.K. too – especially the P.E. class. The boys were divided into teams for five-a-side soccer in the gym and by the end of the period they were lathered in sweat and ready for the shower. After lunch they went to Room 3 for a double period of Sean’s least favourite subject.
Br. Francis was about 5’8” tall. His main distinguishing features were his thick black hair, black glasses and an omnipresent black stubble. Sean thought he could have passed for a Roman himself as he looked not unlike some of the Italian soccer players he had seen on TV. He marched purposefully into the room holding his books under his arm. The boys were already seated. “Good morning one and all – glad to see you all again. No doubt you’ve all been spending a little time over the holidays casting your eye over the vocabulary section at the back of the book. It’s remarkable how quickly the memory fades you know. Before we attempt a translation – and there will be quite a few of those on the syllabus for this year – let us turn to page 175 and spend a few minutes re-acquainting ourselves with some of the nouns and verbs which comprise part of the beautiful, elegant language that is Latin.” Everyone turned to page 175. After ten minutes, Br. Francis told the class to shut their books. He started at the top left hand corner of the class and proceeded to question each boy in turn. “Donnelly – my red-haired friend – give me the Latin word for angry.�
�� “Iratus, sir.” “From which is derived the English word irate.O.K - McCanny – what is the Latin word for the moon?” “Lunus, sir.” Sean, who sat behind Noel McCanny was next. Patsy was behind him.“No it is Luna – moving on to the concrete corner – Daly.S. – what is the Latin for the verb ‘I listen to’.” “Audio, sir”. “Correct - and now moving on to Daly.P. – what is the Latin word for ‘money’”. As Patsy was trying to come up with an answer, Sean was relieved that he had got his right. He had been lucky as he hadn’t known the answer to the first two questions. He knew the answer to Patsy’s question but of course couldn’t tell him. “Argent, sir.” “I can see the old concrete is as solid as ever. You wouldn’t be getting your languages mixed up –would you boy?” There was a ripple of laughter across the classroom. It was no more than a ripple as anyone laughing too loud would have been inviting trouble. “Daly P. – perhaps you could let your cement-brained cousin know what the Latin word for money is!”“ Pecunia, sir.” “Correct.” Thus Br. Francis made his way around the class of boys. Occasionally he would go up to the board to make a point. During the second period the boys studied about the gladiators and the chariot races. Sean much preferred this part of the syllabus to struggling with incomprehensible pieces of Latin prose.
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