So all in all I like the Regional except for the long day. I leave home in the dark (at 7.30 a.m.) and come home in the dark (around half six or seven on Friday). You know something, I’ll have forgotten what Carrick looks like by next summer!
Talking about Carrick, you wouldn’t recognise Pill Road if you saw it now. Remember that farm beside the school with the old stone wall along by the path? Well, that wall is all knocked away as well as the path we used to walk up to school on, down as far as the houses, and you can now see that bungalow from the road (which is being widened).
Now, for some gossip. Are you sitting down? Guess who I heard is pregnant. MRS DENNY. All Greenhill is agog with it. Y— and D— are getting married next Saturday. Martin is invited to a do afterwards in the Bess. Ma bought ’em a pressie. I heard that T— is selling soup from door to door. Imagine, six hons and you end up selling soup! Anne-Marie frightened the life on me. She had been given a ring as a present from Angela and she had me convinced that she was engaged. She kept it up for hours, she did. I nearly killed her when she owned up. Bang went my hopes of being bridesmaid!
I suppose you know by this stage that Anne is in St Joseph’s doing domestic science. I saw B— T— down at the WRTC. She goes around with this gang and you always hear her before you see her. I also met Karen. She snubbed me for a whole two weeks until I finally met her in the canteen. She hadn’t recognised me at all! We go to the canteen all the time instead of the library. By the way, Niamh got thrown out of the latter for talking (tee-hee, tee-hee)!
I’m glad you’re getting on with the kids. You’re really lucky. I met Sue’s mother over town about two weeks ago (or rather she met me; she nearly backed me into a shop window, honest). She was agog about you getting Journalism or sommat. Is that true? She went on and on about you going to France. Needless to say I stood up for you and said you were right. I was nearly going to say that you’d probably turn out 100 times better than college graduates but I remembered who I was talking to in time. Fair dues to you, Kitty chicken! She then convinced me that Sue got five honours since an A in Irish counted for two.
The new season clothes in the shops are gorgeous but unfortunately I can’t afford ’em. Cheryl did go to England but she’s back now minding her cousin’s baby. She comes over some nights and is also learning typing in the Tech on Monday night. (I’m answering your questions now.) The new biology teacher is … FEMALE (aw, shucks!). James Bond is on TV every week, yep.
About Miss Carrick, her name is Brenda Hyland. She isn’t from Carrick and you are mixing her up with the Festival Queen. I’ve sent you the picture of Brenda as Rose of Tralee.
Well, that’s about all is happening around here. I’m enjoying the Regional but I don’t feel at all sure about accountancy. The others seem to like it. Some have a business background and that makes it easier. They’re also really brainy.
Uncle Paddy was in today. The telly was on with Tarzan and black African chiefs on horses. Paddy asks in a loud innocent voice, ‘Where’s the racing from today?’ Ma had to dive out into the back kitchen to stop him from seeing her laughing.
Well, Kitty, I’m gonna shurrup because I’m running out of words and I gorra pain in me ’and. Goodbyeeeeee! You’d better write soon.
Lots of love,
Mary
PS I can’t tell you what is happening in Dynasty because the new season hasn’t started yet! No one got killed in the Dallas fire (aw, shucks). See ya.
(By the way, Vera, Teresa Fogarty, Anne Cullinane, Rosie Flynn and a pile more are below in the college too!)
(Who says I’ll never write a novel!)
Letter 7 / I wanna go home!
Trégunc
Monday, 17 October 1983
Remember how crazy we were about Peter Strauss when we were in sixth class? Well, I found this photograph and accompanying interview in Téléstar the French version of the RTÉ Guide. I wonder if we’ve changed that much in five years. Only for the fact that his name is there in block capitals, I wouldn’t believe that it was the same person, would you?
Also included is a tiny example of some French programmes. Personally I prefer the comic strip! I’m sure that you also remember Nolan blabbing about Julien Clerc? So, hopefully, you’ll appreciate the little piccy of him too. I’ve seen him once on telly. And, boy, is he gorgeous! His smile has the same effect as that of Michael! (As a singer he isn’t bad either!) If you look on the back, you’ll see a shot from Cabaret, which I saw last week. It was very good, but I’m glad that Nanny wasn’t in the room! I’ve a feeling that RTÉ showed it last year but I’m not sure. Anyway, if you get a chance it’s worthwhile watching, even if you only watch Michael York!
I suppose that you’re wondering why I’m blabbing on in this fashion (‘Don’t you always blab on in that fashion?’ says you!!!). Well, you see, last night I helped myself to Viv’s typewriter; and now I cannot stop using it!!! So, I’m writing bits of letters to everybody, even though I don’t owe anybody a letter. You’re lucky, though, I wrote to Sue last night but it was only today that I found the way to make capital letters. Also last night, the only punctuation I was capable of was commas and exclamation marks!!
I have to shut up for the moment as it’s time to go to school again to collect Thomas; also I have to give another English lesson. At the moment, everybody can say ‘poor little dog’ and ‘poor little cat’. The kids are surprisingly good. please excuse the fact that this paragraph is even worse than the other ones. But you see I’m listening to a Joan Baez record as well as typing and if you know anything about her you’ll know that you should really give her songs your full attention. anyway, must go for now, ciao. (That’s Italian for ‘au revoir’, which is French for ‘goodbye’, which is English for ‘slán leat’, which is the end of this PS as I’ve run out of languages!)
PS The reason I only type this part of the letter is because when you type with six fingers, it’s really slow, and you cannot write and think about what you want to say so freely. Consequently, when I type, my letters are more restrained and not as spontaneous. Well, ya can’t have it all ways, can ya? Write soon.
Thursday, 20 October
I wanna go home, I wanna go home, Oh Lord, I wanna go home!
Dear Mary,
Thanks a million for your package, which arrived today. You’re an angel for sending the photo of the castle. I wanted to ask someone to do so, so that I could show it off here!
Anyway, I’ve been feeling really depressed lately; and while your letter cheered me up, it also increased my depression somewhat. Y’see, I also got a letter from Sue today and there’s the two of you blabbing on about all your new copains et copines and I’ve met absolutely nobody since I last wrote; excuse me, since the day I arrived. Now, you know what a likeable, friendly, outgoing, cheerful person I am, and this loneliness is driving me absolutely out of my mind.
But I love the descriptions enclosed. They sound a really great bunch (hence the song on the top of the page!). Also from what I can make out there isn’t any of the boy-girl shyness. Please keep me in the news as to all of the class goings-on, as I need to be cheered up.
Has your grandma put up a toll-booth at her gate, in order to charge local cavemen for looking at her talking machine? Please tell her and the aunts I was asking for them, although I doubt that they remember me. If I’m alone here when the phone rings, I just keep my fingers crossed and wait for it to stop! It’s hard enough trying to speak French face-to-face with somebody, but on the phone …
Viv and François went to Paris last Monday. They’re doing up their old apartment in order to sell it. When they came to Brittany
four years ago they rented it; and I believe the tenants did a bit of redecorating! So, Delphine and Thomas are staying with their grandma in Trégunc while I stay here with Chrys.
So, as you can imagine, this week has been really boring. Mind you, there’s plenty of ironing to do. Viv didn’t ask me to do it. But if I don’t, I feel guilty that I’m not earning my keep (£25 p.w.). Also when I’m here in the house by myself, I love dusting and little things like that, imagining that it’s my own house … Some people never grow up, do they?!
But over the past week, I’ve gotten to know Chantal, Bruno and Yvan a tiny bit better. As you probably know I’m fundamentally shy (pull the other one …) and so never talk when there’s a big crowd at the table. Four is friendlier and so I sometimes venture a comment. On Monday afternoon I went playing tennis with Yvan for an hour. He isn’t great at tennis but just the same is better than me. But I think the reason I played so badly was because I kept watching him and not the tennis balls! Did I tell you before that he’s absolutely gorgeous, and has lovely smiley eyes, and beautiful white teeth and a devastating smile and a terrific voice and a wife and a three-year-old son? Well, even if I did, he’s worth two mentions (okay, so it’s a bit too long to be described as a mention but what the heck!).
I hope to God you’re right about Denny, because I’m going to send her a ‘Congratulations’ card. Anyway, Sue also imparted the same news. So if it isn’t true, I’ll just have to kill the two of you! As well as all of that, I nearly forgot, I had a letter from Reggie on Wednesday. She chatted away for four pages, then put on her veil and picked up her rosary beads, proceeding to warn me about rushing into marriage and letting boys get their own selfish way and letting them use me. If it wasn’t so funny (boys being a bit thin on the ground in this corner of the world) I’d be quite annoyed at her.
My sympathies on your confrontation with Sue’s mam, who really isn’t such a bad old thing (‘Easy for you to say,’ says you!), but she is right about me getting an interview for journalism in Dublin. I was also told that I’d been accepted for a laboratory technician’s course in Kevin Street. But by the time Nanny had forwarded the form to me it was far too late to reply. I felt positively sick for a whole week at myself. Even now I have a green tinge! I’d have loved to have done journalism, but I’m absolutely positive that the phrase ‘The other man’s grass …’ was coined for me.
Late at night when the wind’s howling around the eaves (the weather’s broken!), I lie awake in my bed, listening to Chrys and the dog snoring in the bed across the room (achoo, achoo!) and worry that in fifty years’ time I’m going to be old and withered with a life wasted looking after kids and letting my brains go to rack and ruin. Further chilling chapters of this horrendous tale next week.
I’ve discovered Viv’s classical music collection. I just adore Mozart’s 40th Symphony and ‘Petite Musique de Nuit’. Please listen to them sometime. They really are lovely!
Please excuse the interruption … I hopped out to buy a bag of sweets (tut, tut, tut!). Also, I had to turn the record over. Made some coffee to keep the chill out of these old bones!
Are you keeping in touch with Sue? Had a letter from A—. She says she’s given up because of the way she goes on about college the whole time. She seems to be having a whale of a time in Limerick and her classmates and roommates sound terrific. Like you, she’s been lucky. She went to a disco one night and seems to have had a great time. She’s lucky she has Gerard there. Also, I think she’s still stuck on C—, poor Sue!
As I already said Mme and M. are in Paris and return tomorrow, I think. So, there are just four of us for lunch every day. At night, the restaurant being closed, Chrys and I eat in the house. But anyway, today was very funny. Somehow or another the subject got around to Christmas. Bruno asked me if I was spending it in France, whereupon I said, ‘No, I’m going to go to London, I think, to Celia or Daddy.’ But I told them I hadn’t mentioned it to Viv yet. So Yvan did an impression of Viv getting up one morning and finding a note from me saying, ‘Gone to London, see you next week!’ Not only is he very good-looking, he’s also extremely witty! (He showed me how to use a microwave today! Swoon! How romantic! You’d never think he was married, you know. He never mentions her or the kid. And never seems to be in a hurry to get home. Most peculiar! I haven’t got a crush on him or anything like that. I just like him as a person and not as a male. So, please don’t get any wrong ideas. I’m definitely not – unfortunately – a femme fatale!)
Where was I? Oh, yes, Christmas. Well, you see the thing is the restaurant will most likely be open on Xmas Eve. That means the three of them will have to work. It might even be open 25 Dec. So they started cheering when I said I wouldn’t be here. They’re perceptive, y’see! No au-pair – who’s going to look after the kids if Mommy and Daddy are working, huh? But then, being the killjoy that I am, I told them that last year the kids went to stay with their uncle! Hee-hee! You should have seen their faces drop!
I’ve been feeling really lazy lately and have barely been out walking at all. As well as that, the weather hasn’t been exactly favourable. You look out the window, see a lovely blue sky, on with your coat, open the door and it’s raining! And honestly, I’m not exaggerating. François was supposed to fix up Chrys’s bike for me about six weeks ago but it’s still as flat as a pancake!
Speaking of which, we had crêpes for supper one night. While being gorgeous, I’ve tasted nicer things – pizza, for example! By this stage even my watch and earrings are getting too tight for me!
I didn’t see the postman, but Chantal did and she says he wants to know if I’d give his daughter English grinds. Yippee! A few more bob for Canada and Paris! (Ask Sue or Catherine about my plans for Canada and Paris!)
I love teaching English at school. The kids are really smart and pick up things so quickly. I’m alternatively called ‘Anglaise’, ‘Catherine’, ‘Maîtresse’ and ‘Irlandaise’. Quite a variety, huh?
How are your parents? Are they happy that you are going to WRTC? I’m sure that you make the two of them feel ten feet high. And that isn’t false praise.
WARNING: My hitherto perfect writing is going to deteriorate from here as Mimique, feeling lonely (achoo!), has decided to honour me by sitting (ow!) in my lap. French cats have very long claws. How are your adopted moggies keeping?
I think when Viv comes home tomorrow I’ll ask her about night school in Trégunc and Concarneau. That way I might learn how to type properly and at the same time meet some people my own age.
I’m more or less running out of news now. Please write back soon and let me know how life is treating you. And don’t forget to say who said what, and who smiled at you, etc., in WRTC. Catherine sent me a description of her accountancy lecturers, who sound a great bunch especially Albert Keating. Have you got any in common with her?
Thanks for the Opinion, which I’m going to read, curled up at the fire – sorry, radiator – tonight.
Really must dash. WRITE SOON.
Tons of love,
Catherine
PS Say ‘hello’ to Maw and Paw for me.
PPS Have you been sick since going to Waterford? And have you found out what’s causing it? Is it just nerves or what? Have you met any of the people from the factory in New St? I heard B— is out of work again.
Letter 8 / The novelty has worn off!
Carrick
Tuesday, 1 November 1983
Dear Cathy,
It’s me again (that kind, caring, cheerful, generous, modest soul from 63). Anyway, I gets the impression you ain’t too happy with yourself. Well, join the club. Honest, I’ve just plunged into a fit of depressi
on myself. ‘Okay,’ says you, ‘what about the WRTC?’
Well, what about it? Needless to say, the novelty has worn off – and now I see I’ve made the biggest mistake of my whole life. Don’t get me wrong, I really like going there better than anything else. It’s funny but I feel a sense of identity just going there. I’ve stopped getting sick by the way. I think it was just nerves. But to get back to what I was saying, the fact is I haven’t made any real friends at all (stress the real). There are a few reasons for this.
Firstly, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m too serious and shy. I just can’t let go somehow. The crack is great but I seem to be enjoying it from the outside without actually taking part. I mean, every time someone says something witty to me, I’m just lost for words and I end up looking like a snobby swot. Last week, for example, one of the guys came in and all the other guys started teasing him about a date he had the night before. Jokingly they were asking him what he did. He said he had kept his hands to himself whereupon they started ragging him. Suddenly, he turned to me and said, ‘Do you think I’m gay?’ Well, you can imagine my face. If it had been somebody else they’d have thought of something witty to say, but not me. At least if you get dumbstruck you can blame the language barrier!
I suppose then again I’m more conservative than most of the students. One fella in our class didn’t go to bed until five o’clock for three mornings in a row. Guess what he was doing – playing poker in his digs. And here was I thinking I was bad with a few games of ‘Over the Top’ and ‘Snap’! The Students’ Union are selling contraceptives in the shop.* The class reps were asked to pass the message around. You can imagine the wisecracks that were made when poor Shane had to announce it from the top of the class. Coming home on the bus one evening, there was a guy smoking pot in front of me. I was nearly high and me only sitting behind him!
Dear Cathy ... Love, Mary Page 5