The 86 bus had two stops on Sydenham Road. One of them was situated outside our next door neighbours, the O’Connors. Rosemary and Patricia were my best friends when we were all around seven years old. Along with my brother, Mark, we were inseparable. There was a five foot wall… read more →
At Eight Years old I came home from school crying, my Mother said “have you done something wrong? I was slightly afraid of her as she ruled the family roost and admonishment from school was a more painful prospect than parental opprobrium. “Well tell me then John” she said. I… read more →
Cigarettes were no alien objects in our childhood. In fact they were extremely commonplace; a natural appendage to most adults’ persona. Just as now everyone clutches a mobile phone, so then, most held onto a packet of fags. Ladies tended towards the flip-top box of 20’s style, where a plastic… read more →
Tent Jumping was a shot of high octane adrenaline activity which has now been lost due to modern tent technology. Gone are the village fête marquees with a ridge pole held by uprights and a huge swathe of canvas draped over the top. They were anchored down with ropes tied… read more →
The Boulders’ back garden bordered the Mullen’s outhouses. Double storey, they were in a ramshackle state but provided the neighborhood kids with an adult free zone for hanging out. The buildings ran most of the length at the back of our garden and the wall was covered in a matt… read more →
Our family was on holiday in the bungalow my father and his best friend, Aidan Creedon, built in Magheramore, Co. Wicklow. The Boulders, our home in Dundrum, was unoccupied and quiet. Late one night, two burglars broke into the house. Not wanting to switch lights on, they lit red candles and navigated themselves around the property.… read more →
Ronan Hannigan was fourteen when his parents decided to go on a week’s holiday to the Canaries. He thought that their sojourn gave him a great opportunity to improve his driving skills in his mother’s VW Derby. Out the Derby bounced on to the Stillorgan Dual Carriageway with Ronan at the wheel.… read more →
The Window looked down at the back door of The Boulders from the second floor of Mopoon Villa. It was Patricia O’Connor’s bedroom and represented The Promised Land to us, the local adolescent boys. As hormones flushed un-understood through our veins, Patricia’s blossoming beauty intoxicated us all. We had all… read more →
My parents had a pair of bedside cabinets which represented the naivety of adulthood and the curiosity of youth. Battle scarred, the laminate had fallen away at the corners and the tops were marked with drunken Olympic rings from years of hot coffee mugs. They must have thought that there… read more →
My father’s bedside cabinet contained enough bits and pieces to keep a nine year old boy entertained for hours. It held a movable shelf which had a wooden lip at the front, an effective dam holding back loose change, a charcoal hand warmer and numerous out of date pills. Pulling… read more →