J E: Em how would you think the the kids of today’s lives would be different to yours and what kind of message might you give to younger generations.
P K: To young children, to young generations. Oh my Goodness em you know well there times are so different for them now that the thing I suppose to try and make them realise that the simplest things can be most enjoyable and most entertaining. That they don’t have to have everything they see advertised you know? That family and friends are much more important than material things. It would be hard for them maybe to understand that now. Em certainly eh there’s such a gap there I suppose there are two generations now between when I was a child and the little children growing up now and there’s such a gap in in experience and em oh you know that the computer age having come in and the television age having come in that it got terribly hard to explain to children the happiness that the children of my age had in the simplest things of life and what gave them the biggest thrills in life would be just not understood by the children nowadays. I suppose if the Grannies of nowadays talked one to one with the little children of nowadays they’d be absolutely fascinated but it would be as it is actually a different age they’d be talking about because no more than my age group would understand what the Victorian age was like and what children had then as compared to what I had, growing up. So it would be very difficult only to tell them to keep simple and to keep, have a great regard for for people rather than things. That people are what matter, I would say. That the kindnesses and the neighbourliness that we had as as children em should be kept going with the children nowadays. I think that’s really as I say it would be very hard to make them understand you know that the things that they can buy aren’t as important as the things that they have and the things that they are themselves because they’re very precious and every person is precious, you know?
J E: Em.
P K: So that’s that’s really all I could say about it and about those little ones.
P McC: And of course, we had the fishermen there then on the quay. I mean they used put their boats there and their nets. You know we had.
CO’C: And how many around would there have been?
PmcC; Well, they mostly the fishermen with families, they would go back the generations again, you know. The Flynns, they were mostly families even to this day now they fished down outside Blackrock. The Quilligans, they fish on Blackrock area, that’s their fishing rights now that’s going back generations.
CO’C: And the men that you remember being out here, where would they have lived?
PmcC: Oh they’d lived on Witherington’s Hill or Cobbidge’s Lane. They’d have lived on the lanes around and they actually used have their little boats there and the nets then would be thrown over the quay wall.
CO’C: Okay.
PmcC: You know even in my time. But they were families then again. You know like the butchers were families. ‘Twas all kept within families, the trade, well the fishermen wouldn’t be trades but the trades were and you couldn’t get into them. So if you were, if you had nothing you couldn’t kind of get a trade because ‘twas closed shop. You know.
DMC. After the death of Fr. O’Flynn, as we know, the loft continued on….
PG. Well it did too because, at that time we still had the original founders like Gus Healy and Eileen Curran and, and others: Tom Vesey, Teddy Healy, Norry O’Brian, Norry,…..Norry Healy, sorry as and. Quite a number of others that, that,…..Jonny Gallaher, she was another woman that, who came into that as well and, and they, they were there with us as well. So they brought us along another step of the way, and Gus Healy was absolutely wonderful that he was able to bridge that gap because he knew Fr. O’Flynn from the time that the loft was founded in 1924, right up until he died and then came in and then took over the role of, of chairman. And was chairman up till the time he died in 1986. So we were lucky, and of course, Eileen Curran was Fr. O’Flynn's disciple and she had his interpretation. She knew the plays backwards. She could quote from any of the plays without ever looking at a book, you know. And we were lucky. And then, like, we were maturing ourselves. Pierce, of course, my brother, was that much ahead of me and he, he was well into it as well. And you had Pat Lehane and other stalwarts of that particular time. Now I would have to say then a lot of the others had drifted away, like the Michael Twomey’s and Marie Twomey’s weren’t as and…. those that were around at the time when I mentioned like the: Kevin Sheehan’s, the Michael Mcauliffe and all of these. They, Monn Murphy’s, they had moved on a bit. Now one or two of them, like Monn, came back and did a few parts with us at later stages, you know. I know Monn did a reprise of Hamlet in, I think the mid, the mid 60's, 1964. She came back and reprised her role as ‘Ophelia’, you know. And Tom Vesey, of course, a very old great old stalwart of the original cast. He, he was there up until he died I think 1966. So they, we were lucky, you know. But then we had matured enough to more or less bring it on ourselves and Pierce immersed himself, my brother that is, immersed himself in the work of Fr. O’Flynn and Eileen Curran. When Eileen Curran passed on in 1977. And we also had a, a, a, an outsider who's contributed hugely to the loft of the period and he was a man by the name of John Morley. And he came into the loft in the early 70's and he, he, he was quite an outstanding character. He was English, old English, retired actor living in Cork for a period and he, he was, he was a great man of theatre, you know. And he taught us a lot of things apart from…. the plays and producing and all that, you know. He taught us a lot about creating properties and you know, and settings and all that as well. And he was an extremely talented man and wonderful guy and he understood Fr. O’Flynn and where Fr. O’Flynn was coming, from the word go. He had in fact in Dublin been a friend of Fr. O’Flynn’s nephew, John O’Flynn. And when he came to Cork he, he, he, he was involved briefly I think with The Everyman Theatre. But then he came along to us. And he, he was with us for many happy years really up until….. 1977. He was producing at the time that Eileen died rather suddenly on us in the middle of the last few rehearsals for, for The Winter’s Tale in 1977. And she was; Susan Cummins was a very good girl at the time who, who filled in, in between, between the Saturday and the following Wednesday she, she filled in for him …and she took over the role that was vacated by Eileen Curran, which was quite a substantial role actually in that play. And she, she was to give a very credible performance but John Morley, he directed that. And I learnt a great deal from him because I played ‘Leontes’, the king, in that I had a major role for the first half of, of the play and he was great. But he eventually; he was a member of the high religion and he was asked to go over to Bermuda with his wife, Valery, who was a lovely lady as well. That was about the end of the period where we had come out of The Opera House. We went back into the opera house in the 70s and then did quite a number of plays in The Opera House. But eventually, the burden of, of, of mounting pro plays in the opera house became a bit heavy for us all because we were all young and married and working and that sort of thing. So we tended to go back into The Theatre of the South, a little theatre in Castle Street and then after that then, when they built the The Cork Arts Club then in Knapp’s square we gravitated to there. We kinda, generally speaking, do most of our plays there now at the, at the moment anyway, but. So, that was, we were helped an awful lot to be able to do that, you know. Now, and I'm glad to say that there’s a new generation coming on after us headed up by Ciaran O’Leary and others, and Ray Brothers and Mike O’Neill and hopefully they'll carry the organisation on further into, into the next number of years.
0.00.00 - 0.09.30 |
On Mary’s childhood. Her birth in West Cork and her family. On how the threshing of corn in particular was a big social occasion. Mary spent her early years in Kilmichael before moving to Cork city with her sisters, who owned a number of pubs.
Mary was born in Kilmichael on the 18th of March 1922. Her family were farmers. There were eight children. Five girls and three boys. Mary was the third girl. Her mother’s maiden name was Mary Hurley and she was from the same area. Her fathers name was Patrick Murphy. She describes her childhood as very happy. They lived at a crossroads and kept a very open house. Every night people came to play cards. Mary’s mother played the concertina. There was no electricity in the house and no running water, only a well down the road. Despite this, Mary says they were very happy for a long time. The first bad thing Mary remembers is the Economic War. They couldn’t sell their cattle and money became scarce. Mary always had an interest in the farm and worked on it until she got married. They had a lot of land, a hundred and something acres. A lot of it was rough land.
The threshing of corn every year was a big event. Usually there would be dancing and singing in the house afterwards. In the summer the men would cut turf from the bogs. Mary remembers bringing tea and sandwiches to them. Two of the turf cutter’s dogs started fighting and their owners nearly came to blows over the dogs.
Two of her older sisters worked in a local shop. Another sister worked in Bandon with an aunt who owned a shop and a pub. Later they all came to live in the city and opened pubs themselves. The Gables in Douglas was one of the pubs. The Phoenix was another one. A third sister had a pub on the quays called the Green Bow. That was sold and her sister bought a shop on the Western Road, opposite Jury’s Hotel. Mary worked in the Gables for a bit before her mother died. Back then you could put up a notice saying ‘No Ladies Served’ but you can’t do that nowadays. One of her brothers stayed home on the farm. Another brother worked in the County Hall but then left for Dublin to lecture in the college. He’s only dead with a year.
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0.09.51 - 0.13.33 |
Mary talks about the Economic War and how that made it difficult for her own family to sell their cattle. Despite the Economic War, her father was still a supporter of Fianna Fail, while most of the other nearby farmers supported Fine Gael. She talks about how WWII meant better prices for farmers.
Mary’s son Pat entered and after some introductions, Mary continued to talk more about the Economic War. Most of the farmers, especially the big farmers, were very opposed to Fianna Fail. Mary’s describes her father as a rabid Republican. Only a few of the other nearby farmers would have supported Fianna Fail. The local priests were going mad over Fianna Fail and comparing them to Bolsheviks. One of the priests, Canon Goold, used to ride around on a horse and often argued with Mary’s father over his support for Fianna Fail. Despite DeValera being responsible for the Economic War, Mary’s father still blamed England for the tariffs on cattle. Mary remembers being down in Ballineen selling cattle with her brother. Mary’s father had two heifers for sale but had trouble selling them. Mary was terrified of going home to her mother without money. The heifers ran off and Mary got them back, eventually being able to sell them for £6 each. In 1939 when the tariffs were removed, prices on cattle went up again. Mary remembers her father later selling two heifers to a buyer at home for £40. After that life became comfortable again. 1933 to 1939 were hard years according to Mary.
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0.13.33 - 0.17.37 |
Mary talks more about her parents and how they survived the flu epidemic of 1918. The beginnings of the War of Independence and the use of safehouses in the area by the IRA. On some of the local men who were arrested on suspicion of IRA membership.
During the First World War and just after, farmers got great prices for everything. Mary’s parents married in February 1918 and were able to live comfortably because the war meant they were able to sell anything. Mary’s parents both contracted the Spanish Flu while her mother was expecting her first child in 1918. The child had been due in February but arrived early in December. Because the flu was so contagious, people were terrified to enter the house to help. Both Mary’s parents survived. The two brothers renting the farm next door died from the flu. A local doctor told Mary that anyone who contracted the flu didn’t live to be old because it damaged their hearts. Straight after that, the trouble started according to Mary. A nearby house was used as a safe house by Republicans. Mary remembers her mother telling her how the Republicans would bring in straw and spread it all over the floor in the upper room. One night ten men slept there. Scouts stood by the windows and would tap with their guns if they saw anything. Mary’s son Pat points out a photo of a group of IRA suspects in Dunmanway Workhouse. Mary knew one of the men in the photo, Tim Buckley, who went to live in the United States. The other men in the photo were Richard Donovan, William Bohane and Jim Donovan. Tim Buckley married in the United States but his wife died from tuberculosis. They had one child.
Tim came back to live in Ireland with his child because they couldn’t afford to live in the United States. He used to work on Mary’s farm sometimes. The day Tim Buckley was arrested he was carrying turf across the bog. The police had local information that he was helping the IRA but he wouldn’t have been very active in the IRA. They took him and others to the barracks in Cappeen. The Donovan’s weren’t with them because they weren’t local. William Bohane had no connection to the IRA but any young man found at home was suspected of being in the IRA. There was another young man who was a shoemaker, arrested at home in bed after being drunk. The Tans began questioning Tim Buckley and one of them hit him with his rifle in the mouth, knocking out his front teeth.
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0.17.50 - 0.20.25 |
On Mary’s paternal grandmother and their connections to Republicanism. How one of her cousins was almost caught by the Black and Tans and how some help from a local shopkeeper and the quick thinking of Mary’s mother saved them.
Mary’s paternal grandmother was from beyond Macroom and there might have been a Fenian tradition on that side of the family but not from her grandfather’s side. Her grandmother’s maiden name was also Murphy. Her neighbours fought against the Black and Tans near Macroom. Mary’s first cousin on her father’s side, Jim Murphy and another man named Charlie Brown came into Cappeen in a horse and trap with revolvers in their pockets and drove into a place full of Black and Tans. Even though the two men nearly died of fright they had to keep going. They tied up the horse and pretended to be going shopping. The shopkeeper saved their lives. Mary describes the shopkeeper as being well in with the Tans. Because of the shopkeeper, the Tans never searched the two men and let them go.
They drove back up to Mary’s house and were met by Mary’s mother, who warned them that the Tans had just gone up the road. That was where they arrested Timmy Buckley. When Jim Murphy and Charlie Brown heard about the Tans, they tied the horse up and Mary’s mother put on her jacket, pretending she was going somewhere with the horse. The two men ran off down the fields. The Tans never came down as far as the house but instead went back the way they originally came because they had arrested Tim Buckley and the other men. They kept Timmy Buckley and the Donovan man for a week but let William Bohane go home. They must have had local information that William Bohane wasn’t in the IRA. They knew who was in it and who wasn’t.
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0.20.26 - 0.25.33 |
More on the War of Independence and the Civil War. Living not far from Kilmichael when the ambush took place. How a local man was suspected by the IRA of informing against them but later released thanks to information supplied by a local postmaster. On how fear of the IRA made people give them shelter. Mary’s grandmother gave shelter to the IRA but also had a daughter married to a member of the RIC.
According to Mary, her parent’s house was never raided by the Tans. But it did get raided by the Free State soldiers during the Civil War. Her father had guns hidden under the hay and got a fright. There was a heavy shower and the Free State soldiers took shelter with the hay. They were sitting on top of the guns but never realised. The reason the Tans never raided the house was because they didn’t like going down the narrow roads if they could avoid it. It was too dangerous for them. The house was only a few miles away from where the Kilmichael ambush took place and Mary’s father heard the guns going off. There was an old notebook found on one of the Tans and Mary bought it off the Southern Star. She still has it in the house somewhere. After the Truce, when the British troops were evacuating Dunmanway, an Irishman took a diary out of a Tan’s pocket. The notebook contained information about the local IRA. Where they slept at night, how many guns they carried and descriptions of them. One man was arrested by the IRA on suspicion of being an informant and kept him for three days. His mother was searching the area, worried the IRA had shot him. A cousin of Mary’s father saved his life. He worked at the post office in Cappeen and knew who was really informing because he read the letters going to the Tans. Most of those letters were confiscated by the postmen. Mary thinks it was a woman who was informing.
While most people in the local area weren’t Republicans, they still wouldn’t inform on them. Mary’s very near neighbours were more interested in making money and putting it into big farms. But there were some nearby who were very pro-IRA. People had no choice but to keep the IRA if they came because they would be afraid of them as well. Mary’s grandmothers house was further up into the hills and was also used as a safehouse by the IRA. One of her daughters was married to an RIC man in Dublin. But he had died before the War of Independence and she was living at home. One time, her husband’s brother, who was also in the Dublin Metropolitan Police, wrote to her asking could he visit for a holiday. He was fed up in Dublin and wanted to get away for a bit. Her grandmother wrote back to say he was welcome but he might have to share the house with people he wouldn’t agree with. He sat in the parlour with his hat on the table and a revolver under it, while IRA men ate in the kitchen. He didn’t say anything. Many of the RIC were sympathetic but still had to do their jobs. A lot of them didn’t want the Tans around either.
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0.25.35 - 0.28.44 |
On hearing stories about the War of Independence when she was young and trying to get relatives to talk about it. On a man who used to come into her sisters pub who told her about his involvement in killing three British soldiers.
Mary remembers hearing these stories when she was young. When Timmy Buckley came back from America, he was always telling stories. Mary’s cousin, who was involved in ambushes during the War of Independence, never spoke about it. Mary tried to get him to talk about it. He was arrested during the Civil War and sent to Cork Gaol. He was among those who broke out of the prison. Mary thinks those who were very involved with the fighting didn’t want to talk about it. She thinks they hated what they had to do. Jim Murphy was involved in an attack on the Kilmurray barracks but they didn’t succeed. The barracks was burned down later. There was another man who used to come into her sisters pub and he was also very involved in the War of Independence. She thinks he shot a lot of people. One day, Mary was alone with him and kept asking him to talk about it. He told her about the Tans killing some people at a match in Glanmire and how the IRA were told to kill a British soldier for each person killed by the Tans. He described the three soldiers that they shot. They took the soldiers out to Blarney and shot them there. Mary thinks it had an awful effect on the man. He talked to himself a lot and was a bit daft from it. Mary thinks Ireland would have been worse off under England because we would have been bombed during WWII.
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0.28.45 - 0.37.47 |
Mary talks about going to school until she was 15 and the stories she would have heard at home. She recalls the local tailor and how the children would play with the empty reels. Mary’s father was a big believer in hospitality and often welcomed tinkers to stay in exchange for them making household items. Tramps were also invited to stay, although Mary’s mother didn’t approve. Some of these were WW1 veterans dealing with shellshock. There was a story about a farmer down in Kerry who murdered his wife and tried to cover it up.
Mary attended school until the age of 15. There wasn’t much talk about the War of Independence period in school. One teacher might have talked about it. Mary would have been hearing the stories at home around the fire and she considers her home to have been a ‘rambling house’. John Hennessy, the shoemaker, along with a tailor, another shoemaker, a carpenter and a harness maker would all come to visit. The harness maker would come every few years to do the harness and would spend the day stitching up different things. They would take their shoes over to be repaired and getting new soles put on them. The tailor would make her fathers suit. The tailor has his own house up the road. The table took up the entire kitchen and there were big reels of thread on it. He kept all the empty reels for the children and they would put twine through them to make horses. Tinkers used to come and stay during the summer. Mary’s father would never refuse anyone. They would bring straw down from the haggart and put it into the trap. A big family would sleep in it for a week. The Tinkers would make tins, cups, jugs and milk containers to sell around. Mary thinks they had a place in Dunmanway. Around twenty years ago, Mary’s brother was at home one day. A big heavy woman came into the door. She wanted to show her son, who was home from England, where they used to spend their summer holidays. The house she used to stay in was gone. It was on the side of the road and had been knocked. It had been a big, long open shed.
Mary’s father would never refuse anyone and he kept a lot of tramps. He didn’t like to see anyone else without a bed. These people would never come into the house, except the girls at night. Mary’s mother didn’t like them playing with the girls but her father encouraged it. Mary’s father felt you should be as nice to the tramp as you would be to the Bishop. Everyone should be treated equally. He wasn’t afraid of anyone. A man came one night, just after WW1, and a lot of them were suffering from shell shock. Mary’s mother refused to allow him to sleep in the house. They set up a mattress for him in the barn. He had a box of matches in his pocket and he spent the night cracking matches. The floor was covered in burnt matches. There was thunder and lightning during the night. Mary’s mother woke up and seeing the lightning, thought the man had set fire to the barn. She looked out and could hear him singing at the top of his voice at the thunder and lightning. Mary’s mother went off to mass the next morning, leaving her father and the young children at home with the man. He sang for them. Mary recites the words of the song.
Mary’s father took an interest in everyone and they would all tell him their stories. Mary’s not sure if it’s fair to repeat some of the stories, in case these people have descendants in the area. Mary tells a story about a murder down in Kerry involving a very wealthy farmer. It was rare to hear about a murder in the paper back then. This farmer murdered his wife and tried to pretend that she died attempting to rescue a turkey from the well. But he was charged with the murder. A tramp came to Mary’s house and it was his aunt who was the murder victim. The tramp’s father was another wealthy farmer but the he left home because his father beat him when he was 16. He went down to a nearby town and enlisted in the British army. He described the Battle of the Somme. He began to smoke opium as a way of coping with the horrors of war and became addicted. When he was discharged he was offered either a pension or a lump sum. He took the lump sum and spent it all on drugs. That’s how he ended up going from door to door. Mary’s father would sometimes offer to give the tramp a shilling but he refused to take it. Mary doesn’t know what happened to the tramps. One tramp nearly died at their house but the ambulance came and took him away. They brought him to Clonakilty where he died there. Many of the tramps were very neglected. A lot of people would feed them. Some of the tramps would demand food. One of them was an ex-teacher who had fallen on hard times. |
0.37.52 - 0.39.07 |
On reading a book about Brendan Behan by Ulrick O Connor
Mary was reading a book about Brendan Behan written by Ulrick O Connor. According to the book, Brendan Behan saved the farmer who murdered his wife from the gallows. He was to be hanged but Brendan Behan drove him mad. Behan used to torment the man in the exercise yard of the prison. One day the man got so mad that he had an epileptic fit. He was taken away in an ambulance and sent to hospital. |
0.39.14 - 0.42.33 |
Despite Republican connections in the family, there was no involvement with Cumann na mBan. On some aunts who were married to men in the Dublin Metropolitan Police. On how one of Mary’s aunts helped an IRA member get out of police custody by pretending he was her brother. She had to leave Cork afterwards and return home to West Cork until the Troubles ended. None of Mary’s family was involved in Cumann na mBan. One of her aunts was married to a member of the Dublin Metropolitan Police. Another aunt was also married to another DMP member but he left it because his family’s shop was being boycotted. If he didn’t quit the police the shop wouldn’t survive. Her aunt Peggy married in Cork at the same time as her mother. One of Mary’s uncles went to live in America and Mary’s mother was delighted with this. One day, Mary’s aunt was visiting other cousins who were also in the IRA and met with Charlie Brown. She thought he was the image of her brother Willie, who was in America. A few weeks later, Charlie was arrested and he gave Willie’s name and address, claiming that he was Willie and was working in Fords in Cork. He was brought to the barracks in Cork. Mary’s aunt was married in Cork at the time. She was a very small woman, only 5’1 or 5’2 and expecting her second baby. She got word from the IRA to go to the barracks and identify her brother. Charlie Brown wrote a book about it afterwards and mentioned how this brave little woman came to get him out and saved his life. Speaking to Mary about it years later, her aunt said she was a terrified little woman. She was as terrified of refusing the IRA as she was of doing it. They were very nice to her in the barracks and promised not to do any harm to her. They allowed her to talk to her ‘brother’. The ruse worked and Charlie Brown was released. He was supposed to report to the barracks every week but he didn’t. Mary’s aunt had to flee Cork city as a result. Her baby was born at Mary’s house. She stayed there until the Troubles ended. The Truce was signed not long afterwards. She was lucky because the police could have found out who she was. Charlie Brown was very involved with the IRA in Macroom. |
0.42.39 - 0.43.42 |
On moving up to Cork city when she was 24, working in her sister’s pub and helping out on the farm at home.
Mary moved to Cork city when she was 24. Her sister had opened a pub on Douglas Street. Mary was there for about a year, coming in and out. She went home again when her mother died. She helped out on the farm with the hens, duck, geese and turkeys. This was in the late 1940s. Her mother died in 1948. Her father had died in 1944. Mary’s eldest brother took over the farm. |
0.43.47 - 0.46.30 |
Encounters with the Blueshirts in the 1930s. Going to watch Platform Dances in Glan on a Sunday. There was an agreement between Republicans and Blueshirts that no political symbols would be worn, but the Blueshirts broke the agreement. This led to a fight and the end of Platform Dances in the area.
Mary remembers the Blueshirts from when she was 14 or 15. Mary wasn’t allowed to go dancing but they were allowed to go looking at people dancing at the platforms. There were dances in different places on a Sunday afternoon and someone playing music. Nuala and Mary were allowed go back to Glan to see the dancing but weren’t supposed to do any dancing themselves. They went down on a Sunday. At the time there was a lot of animosity between different groups, Republicans and Blueshirts. They had an agreement that no political signs of any description were to be worn, like badges or blue shirts. It was a place for dancing and fun and not for politics. The following Sunday, they went down again and there was one girl there with a Blueshirt. Later, Mary saw 20 men wearing blueshirts and black ties coming down the road on bicycles. It was all arranged that the girl would be there and one of the Blueshirts started dancing with her. The minute they started dancing the music stopped and they started arguing about the no politics agreement. The next thing they were all beating each other. Nuala and Mary ran away home. While walking up the road, they met a girl who took a wrench from her bicycle repair kit and went down to join in the fight. One fella was carried away in a stretcher afterwards. That was the end of the platform dancing. Mary was too young to be allowed dance as she was only 14. Once they got older they were allowed dance. |
0.46.32 - 0.50.10 |
On whether the War of Independence was worth it and getting the Treaty Ports back. On Irish not being spoken widely when she was young. An Irish poem her father used to recite. Two of her nieces became teachers. May remembered learning about the Famine when she was in school and an elderly neighbour who had lived through it.
Mary thinks Irish independence was hard won but the best thing was when Ireland got the Treaty Ports back. Otherwise, Ireland would have been bombed during the war. She believes if Ireland had still been under English rule Germany would definitely have dropped a few bombs on us. The Irish language would definitely have been gone, although Mary doesn’t know if that would be a good or bad thing. She doubts the English would have allowed it to be so prominent. Mary didn’t have Irish when she was young, although her father had some. They weren’t allowed teach it in schools. Her father spent months trying to learn it. He had one little poem out of a schoolbook he liked to recite. The tailor living nearby was from Ballyvourney and a native Irish speaker. Mary says they didn’t appreciate the language. If the children were making noise they would be scolded in Irish. Mary picked up some Irish over the years, especially when she was in school. Two of her nieces are teachers. They attended boarding school in Fermoy.
Prompted by her son, Mary mentions learning about the Famine while at school. One of her neighbours, Mrs Barrett was in her 80s and remembered the Famine. But she didn’t want to talk about it out of pride. Mary realised she had put her foot in it. Mrs Barrett remembered people who didn’t have food and being slapped by her mother for giving bread to those on their way to the workhouse in Dunmanway. Before the Famine there were eight houses up past Cappeen and most of them were gone after the Famine. Only the farmers survived and a lot of the cottier people died. |
0.050.11 - 0.55.35 |
Talking about some of the poetry she wrote herself but not wanting to read it out for the recording. On adjusting to moving from the countryside into the city. On being driven up to Cork in a lorry and her first impressions of Douglas Street. No cars on the street at the time, just donkeys and ponies. The vegetable dealers who used to sell on the street. Discussing her nephew, Liam Ó Muirthile. On opening up a shop on Tramore Road and eventually deciding to move to Glasheen. On attempting to sell their shop a few times.
Mary writes poetry herself but isn’t comfortable reading it out for the recording but offers to read it out after the interview. Mary moved to the city and met her future husband, Tom. She also had a boyfriend in the country at the time. When she first started in the Gables, Mary missed the freedom of being able to walk out and run down the field. She was fascinated by all the people walking along. At night she would sit at the window looking at all the people walking along. She eventually came to like living in the city.
Her very first day on Douglas Street, she came up in a lorry from Cappeen. The owner of the lorry drove her all the way up to the door. Douglas Street was covered in donkeys and small ponies. There were no cars to be seen. There were tables for vegetable dealers up at the top from the Market Gardens. They would come into the pub for a drink in the morning after selling their goods. It was a very busy pub in those days. The Gables was always a good sized pub. It was home to her sister and most of her children. One of her sister’s sons is the poet Liam Ó Muirthile. Mary has an article about him that was in the Examiner. He lives out in Douglas now.
When she married, Mary and her husband opened a shop on Tramore Road, off Togher Road. She was worn out from working in the shop and looking after young children. Mary’s brother lived nearby in Glasheen. Where the houses are now there were still fields. One night Mary was playing cards with her brother, who was living in Glasheen at the time and they were building houses in the nearby field. Mary said to her husband they would give up the shop and buy one of the houses. Mary couldn’t do it any longer. They put the shop up for sale. The man who bought the shop came and spent a day working behind the counter with them. He gave out sweets to all the children and told them he would be the new shopkeeper. The next day he rang Mary and told her he had decided not to bother. At the time there was a woman who used to help in the shop and she offered to rent it from them. They rented the shop to her and came to live in Glasheen. Later, the lady renting the shop wanted to give it up because her daughter got married. Mary and her husband took back the shop and still have it. |
0.55.50 - 1.01.47 |
On being asked about Tom Barry and his connections to Kilmichael. Although Mary never remembers Tom Barry ever being in their house, his wife Leslie Price did have tea with them once. On large scale emigration due to lack of work. All of Mary’s uncles emigrated. One was a Christian Brother in New Zealand and the others went to America. One of her uncles was a bus driver in New York for a few years but after getting in an accident he moved to Boston. He died young because of the flu. More of how Mary’s parents contracted the Spanish Flu in 1918 and almost died. Her sister being born premature and how her grandmother and aunt marched down to the priest to get her baptised. On the custom of ‘Churching’.
Being from Kilmichael, Mary has a few stories about Tom Barry. Tom Barry married Leslie Price and she had tea in Mary’s house. Mary’s mother was told to make a special tea because there was a very important person coming, Ms Price. Mary’s mother was a bit dicey about the IRA because she came from a different kind of a crowd. Mary’s mother claimed Ms Price didn’t thank her very much. Mary’s mother didn’t think much of her. Mary doesn’t think Tom Barry ever came into their house. Mary’s mother was from Kilmichael parish as well, only up the road from where they lived. Mary’s grandmother came from beyond Macroom. They were the ones with the IRA connections. The farm is still there but Mary’s family sold it. They called there one time and the farmer was clearing out a sand pit. He knocked out a big lot of ammunition. His two brothers went to America. They all had to emigrate then. There was no work in Ireland, even on the roads. The new Irish government favoured their own and Fianna Fail were the same.
Emigration had a big part to play in Mary’s family. All her uncles went away. One uncle, Jim, was a Christian Brother, he ended up in New Zealand for 40 years. He came back to Ireland and died in Dublin, in the O’Brien institute. He was at Mary’s brothers wedding. He died suddenly from heart failure. The other two uncles went to America and they have families still there, Mary’s cousins. One lot of them came to visit Ireland once. One of the uncles came back to die in Ireland but he was a bit gone in the brain. Mary had a neighbour who visited them in America. They were living in Boston. Mary’s uncle Willie was in New York first, working as a bus driver. He had an accident with the bus. Mary found out about it from a neighbour. He was in America illegally and had to go away to avoid being found out. He travelled down to Boston. He married an Irish girl and had a family in Boston. He lived there all his life but died very young. He died from the flu and had it even worse than Mary’s parents.
Mary’s older sister was born prematurely, when her parents were suffering from the flu and the weather was terrible. Mary’s grandmother and aunt were the only ones who would go into the house. They still took the baby down to be christened in case she died. She lived to be 83. She was the sister who owned the Gables Pub. Mary has a number of stories about her grandmother. She was a very tall woman, nearly 6ft. The rest of the family were small but her grandmother’s people were very tall. A number of them had been in the RIC. According to Mary, very few Catholics were accepted in the RIC, but they were so tall an exception was made. When her grandmother went down to the priests house to get Mary’s sister baptised, his housekeeper answered the door and told them they had to wait because the priest was having his dinner. Mary’s grandmother elbowed the housekeeper out of the way and marched into the room and told the priest to baptise the child. There were other traditions at the time such as Churching. Mary did it herself but it’s not done anymore. |
1.01.47 - 1.03.31 |
Remembering some Halloween traditions when she was young and hearing ghost stories from some of the old men in the area. Mary and her sister weren’t allowed listen to the stories but would try to sneak back in to hear them. She learned other poems from some of her neighbours.
Mary says they didn’t have many Halloween traditions when they were very young. That didn’t happen until they were older and started going to school. It wasn’t even mentioned much. They would have had old men telling ghost stories. Of all the locals, John Tom told the scariest stories. Mary and her sister would be terrified going to bed after listening to his stories about all the dead people. Mary’s mother tried to put the children out when she saw him coming. She had a horror of any sort of nasty talk. Mary would try to sneak back in to hear his stories. The Buckleys were the same. They would teach Mary old poems that weren’t very nice. Mary had a talent for picking things up. She promises to read out some of her own poems after the interview.
End of interview. |
0.00.00 - 0.04.01 |
Background information, House on Friars Walk, Doyle Road and eventually Ballyphehane. Father did not want to return to the house he built on Doyle Rd after Marie's Mother Died, instead choosing to be housed in new corporation house in Ballyphehane even though that meant paying rent. Mother was from Middleton, Father born and raised on Friar’s walk. He went to the model School on Anglesea St. Like to hunt with dogs. Marie went to the South Presentation convent till she was eleven when she move to Guildford, England to her aunties for three month, returned to Ballyphehane but grandmother sick so Marie never returned to school. |
0.04.01 - 0.06.35 |
Ballyphehane in her childhood. All country, spent her days out in the Well Field by the snotty bridge. Pack jam sandwiches, going swimming in the stream and a well for drinking water. Her child hood house on Friars road was the last house on the road. After that it was all dirt road. It would have been across form where the Marian Pharmacy is now. Across the road was tory top lane (not to be confused with Tory top road). The other street (now Reendowny Place) they called ‘the lane’ but when her friend’s boyfriend the captain of the Innisfallen came looking for her one day he called it First Avenue which subsequently stuck. When her friend married the captain they got VIP treatment on the Innisfallen. |
0.06.35 - 0.09.27 |
The Layout of Lower Friars walk. Market Gardens, all of Ballyphehane was market gardens. First house in lower friars walk lived in By a guard by the name of Kearney, he rented from Gerry Coughlan. Next house John Barrett the builder rented from Michael Halloran. The house Marie lived in was Tim Hurley’s, he had a market garden all around the house. He had four daughters, three became Nuns. One got married. There was hill view which was three houses, one was grandmother of Hurley’s, one was Horgan’s, and the other was another Hurley which had nine of them living in it. The next family was the Scannell’s who had a market garden. Then Hosford’s a protestant family who had an orchard. Next was Cotter, the last house on left hand side was Coughlan’s. On the Right hand side of Lwr Friars walk. Jim Barrett and Joe Barrett, then you an O’Connor. The next was William Halloran Marie’s Grandmothers brother. His daughter was married to Paddy Foley and they lived in the house below, also market gardeners. Next was Halloran’s orchard where the church is now. |
0.09.28 - 0.10.18 |
Halloran’s orchard. Small gate through to a small house, Marie’s aunt lived in. Halloran’s (Marie’s great Grandparents) reared her. Marie’s grandmother had six daughters and one son. Further in was the Halloran house, they had a daughter that never married called Katie and she was in another house. Nat the back of the orchard you had Crowley’s and they had an orchard too. |
0.10.18 - 0.11.57 |
After the Halloran’s Orchard you had Riordan who was involved in the I.R.A. Marie is unsure of the exact details but remembers prisoners being released from England came looking for Riordan, Marie’s grandmother sent them to another Riordan who lived in the big house. Then sent word to the real O’Riordan to get out. |
0.11.57 - 0.13.33 |
After his house there was a lane way to Pouladuff Road. Donovan lived there, they called him ‘Murder the Loaf’ and his son ‘slice pan’. Then the next family was Daly’s on Tramore road in a cottage and that was the end of Friars Walk going down. They Called Tramore road Tramore road, but was also known as Hangdog road. Marie’s Grandmothers brother lived where Healy’s cleaners is which was called low lands, In a big house. Marie was caught kissing her Husband Gerry (her then boyfriend) in the ‘Confessional boxes’ (concrete cubicles) by the priest, Who asked if they ‘had anything better to do?’ |
0.13.34 - 0.15.14 |
Halloran’s Orchard. Marie doesn’t remember her great grandparents having it, it was her uncle paddy who ran it. Massive orchard went all the way to Pouladuff rd., with many people employed to pick apples. After Marie’s grandmother got married first she work in the orchard, her husband was a plaster. Originally grandmother was meant to marry a farmer from Ballygarvan, but she was already going out with what would turn out to be her husband and had no intention of marrying famer her parents had matched her with. Great-grandfather told her that all she would get from him in that case is a pair of grey horses to pull her carriage on the wedding day and nothing else. Never got her dowry. So she was the poor one of the family. But it came to her later, one of the Halloran’s that lived by the park died without a will, he was never married, to sell his property every member had to sign, grandmother told not to sign but said ‘what my father never gave me I don’t want’ and she signed it. |
0.15.14 - 0.17.08 |
The city was a million miles away to them, only went in to get shoes and they mostly came from England or hand-me-downs. England had better way of getting things even though it wasn’t too much different there. Marie’s grandaunt was a very holy person, the night Cork city burned they left the animals from the mart loose, which led to a bull going own Friars walk with its chains hanging and rattle, Marie’s Grandaunt thought it was the devil coming out of hell. |
0.17.09 - 0.22.40 |
There was loads of children on Friars walk, they all played down Friary gardens. The Davis’ had nine girls and for boys, the Duggan’s had ten. All big massive families all Marie’s age, all played together. Games they played: Gobs a game with stones, flick stones/pebbles in the air and catch them on back of hand, the gobs had names ska one and ska two, Marbles or glassy alleys, Picky, and skipping. Recites some skipping rhymes. Loads of rhymes like that. I the summer they would be in their bare feet. Marie thinks they had better childhood than today, better memories than looking at a phones and tablets. Marie thinks Those devices aren’t good for kids, but they need to use them for school. They would play with twine and make pattern from twisting, like the gate and baby’s cradle. Her uncle in Midleton was a tailor, he saved all the reels for her, she would put four tack in them and put thread around and keep flicking them over the tacks and you would have a big rope. Collecting scraps was also big. There would be murder over them, robbing them and everything. |
0.22.41 - 0.23.00 |
Marie had two older brothers, Teddy died of cancer at forty three, and the other is still alive and is eighty, he thought out in C.I.T |
0.23.01 - 0.00.00 |
Food growing up. They saw meat on Sunday, maybe a shoulder of bacon. Plenty of potatoes, vegetables and rice. They could make rice pudding some days. They would have porridge in the morning. You would have to be sick top get an egg. They would eye up the top of the fathers boiled egg and fight over it. Mother would get the bones out of the butcher on Saturday, boil them with vegetables and make a big pot of soup, which would last a few days. Back bones, her husband was never given back bones or bodice because they were country people, so when Marie married her father told her to get back bone with tail, Gerry came in from work he turned his nose up at it. He came round. Bought pigs head convinced husband to eat it, not too convinced, her father kept saying the ear is crispy. Tongue was delicious. Tripe and Drisseen, tripe cooked in milk and onions for a long time, drissenn on the other hand cooked very fast. It’s very good for your stomach. Children wouldn’t touch it. |
0.25.45 - 0.27.01 |
Marie’s Husband, was from Ballincollaig out the country side in a cottage. He moved to Blackrock and they met in the boat club at a new year’s eve dance. Liam went to school with Marie’s husband Gerry in St. Joseph’s. Gerry’s mother wouldn’t send him to Blackrock because she would see the pupils smoking over the wall by the house and see said ‘you’re not going down there, you’ll only learn to smoke down there’ so he had to go to the mardyke all the way from Blackrock. They had to be left off early for lunch so they could get home on the 12.15 bus and back in to school after lunch at 1.30(7km each way). . |
0.27.01 - 0.36.25 |
Friars Walk cont. Tory top lane ran at the side of the where the Marian chemist is now. The ex-servicemen’s cottages were in friary gardens. At the end where the bungalows are is where the lane turned off. Johnny Crowley had a market garden there and fed pigs. Bella Dunne her mother Kitty Paul and their donkey was so hungry that it ate the door of the shed. Where Connolly road side of the park was called the field, they played there. Barbed wire divvied it from the graveyard, little bit down was McCloughan’s cottage, then Neville’s slaughter house next to another Halloran. By the front of the graveyard there was a big red brick building with toilets and a water font. All countryside, no house after that. Barrett’s on friars walk off Derrynane Rd? Big house in playing field (tory top park) Catharine Mahoney called Catherine ‘snowballs’. And Noel ‘the goat’ and his wife’s mother nanny Callaghan they used to sit her out in a chair Marie thought she was ‘dotie’ thinking about it now she had dementia, they used light paper and put it in the chute to torment them (they called it thunder up the alley), he would come out in his long johns, and they used to call him the ‘devil out of hell’. There was a pump outside their house. House in the park was used as community centre. Then was ‘First Avenue’(now Reendowny Place) at the end of the houses you crossed a field to pouladuff, Noel Halloran lived in the first house, he was killed down in Dunlop’s, a man Meaney, Callaghan’s, Leary, Fitzgerald’s Harris’. They used to call this area the cross, friars walk with ‘first avenue’ and tory top lane being the other roads. Mrs Harris had teeth that were always coming out, Marie’s brother told Marie that they were the father’s teeth. Paddy the milk man , the grandmother used to make Marie get a sup for the cat off him. CMP dairy not on tramore road at time it was a big house. And where Vita Cortex factory is was Ballyphehane House, which was used a school while Coláiste Chríost Rí on Capwell was being built. The woman who lived by there used to wash the football teams jerseys she was call Mag ‘the Whalloper’ she moved to murphy’s lane , they called her husband ‘Hollywood’ because of his immaculate dressing. All bog down there by Mercier park. Turners cross pitch was all bog. The train line ran passed it. Also the Tramore river from the ESB pitch and putt was all open but no a lot is piped over. |
0.36.25 - 0.39.55 |
The Building of Ballyphehane. Marie’s brother worked on it. Big change, her house was taken to they could build houses. Brother was sent to Skerry’s college (civil service training) but after 2 months it was discovered that her brother was just hanging out in Fitzgerald’s park and not attending college. So he was marched to Leaders for a bib and brace sent to Ballyphehane and learnt his trade on the house facing the graveyard. Marie was thirteen when the development started, she loved it, it modernised her life and luxuries such as Lennox’s Chipper and everything else, very positive. On the cross they would have a huge Bonfire every year and put new potatoes in the corner of fire and all eat spuds. No traffic, only horse and carts, they used to ‘lang on’ (hang on) the back of the ‘floats’ (flatbed carts) that brought the men back from the docks. She wouldn’t say she made friends with the new people moving in, but she was at the age where she was chasing fellas so she welcomed the new arrivals. |
0.39.55 - 0.40.59 |
Haunted house or scary stories. . Scanlon’s house where one of them hung himself, another then was put in to the mental home on the Lee road. They had that kind of tendency in the family. Marie used to go to graveyard where Fr Matthew’s grave was a you could see a coffin in a sarcophagus that made them run away. |
0.41.00 - 0.42.50 |
Say’s she had a fabulous upbringing in her youth, freedom, not like now. On her school holidays they used leave the house go to the well field with their togs, no towel and stay out till five in the evening, no worries. Couldn’t do that today. That house Marie lives in now on Doyle rd was built entirely by her father 80 years ago. All the tradesmen help each out. Marie’s daughter lives on Derrynane rd and was brought in to the neighbour’s house to be shown signatures of the tradesmen that worked on the house and Marie’s fathers was there. |
0.42.51 – 0.44.21 |
Revised the Black and Tans story, all names of people living in house was written behind door and they’d check if it matched. INTERVIEW ENDS |
G O’D: Thinking back to the street you grew up on, are there, are there any kind -- are there many kind of major landmarks or streets and lanes nearby, that have since been demolished or got rid of?
M C: Well, I suppose there was Jackson’s Terrace which is now gone. It was off Langford Row. That’s the one that sticks out. I remember as a child saying when I was bigger I’d cross Langford Row and go over and see the -- I thought they were spectacular houses. Sure the poor people probably didn’t think -- they were two-storey houses and a narrow kind of entrance to them and obviously like, the distance between their front doors was very little and I think there was a toilet down at the end, a communal. But they used to say it was beautifully kept, you know. The people kept the place very well. But there was -- like you couldn’t -- you’d only get a bicycle in between the, the houses but I thought it was -- you know, as a child. And I was going to cross the road and see those houses, and by the time I was ready to cross the road, Jackson’s Terrace was knocked and ‘tis the apartments there in, in -- it was a garage afterwards and then ‘tis an apartment in Langford now. And I suppose like, that whole community at the end of High Street, like there was about seven houses, like cottages in Langford Row, which was, you know, whole families. And then there was Mrs Donnelly and Curtin the bookie, and Fitzgibbon’s and Cosgrave’s and Curtin’s and Dorgan’s shop, all taken, and at the other side of the road then, there was Houston’s pub and all the houses in Summer Hill South, their gardens were shortened to make the road wide. So ‘twas a -- and then there was a whole -- there was as many more, there was about five or six houses in Summer Hill South taken as well, small houses. So ‘twas like a whole community just for progress but it was a whole community removed, you know.
G O’D: Mm, and where were they -- would they have -- where were they re-settled then?
M C: Well it -- if the people owneded the houses they just were compensated and they bought houses elsewhere, and if they didn’t they were housed in different places, mostly in Ballyphehane.
S. H: Did you ever hear the phrase ‘‘ lime burners '' applied to the people around Millfield, the Millfield Cottages?
L. F: No.
S. H: I only mentioned that because somebody told me that, that was a name in the twenties and thirties sometimes applied half-jokingly later to people from around that area because apparently
A lot of, quite a few people from that area joined the British forces in the First World War.
L. F: Is that right?
S H: And, yeah so the story went, and then after independence people didn't want much to do
With them, you see because they were “lime burners”, and if somebody's been burning lime there's a horrible stench from them.
L. F: I don't know?
S. H: No I just thought that you know, perhaps you had heard the phrases, it's interesting to see how far these phrases carry.
L. F: The only things I can tell you about the British thing right is, that em, my own mum was nearly killed by a hand grenade in the buildings down here you know Maddens buildings down here, she had just eh, she was in the shop getting messages…
S. H: What shop would that be?
L. F: That would have been, do you know it could have been Murnane’s, just one of the shops down the street here right, it had to have been right, and she had just got in the door right, and there was this unmerciful bang right, just right where she is and it damaged the door even right ...so.
S. H: What happened?
L. F: Somebody threw a hand grenade, at one of the Brits I think, maybe one of the rebels, threw it.
S. H: Was anyone hurt?
L. F: No, no one hurt.
S. H: You, can't, she wouldn't remember the year, it would have been 1919 or 1920...
L. F: Well she was living in the buildings at that time so, she wasn't married right so she must have been only a teenager, she must have been em, probably around fourteen or fifteen, but I remember her telling me that story.
S. H: Did she also tell you something about hearing the shots that killed Thomas MacCurtain?
L. F: She did, yeah...
S. H: What could she remember about that?
L. F: The shots, remember, em, remember hearing the bangs at the time of the, and, I, I'm not absolutely sure of the story but I think at the time, she might have been in somebody else’s house near at hand when it happened, and these bangs went around the place, and nobody, people are used to hearing bangs around then as well of course right ... and, or I said there's some shots gone off right, and it's only then did it come out that they were after being shot you know. So she did hear the shots, yeah.
S. H: Did any of them have sort of Nationalist or Republican leanings, your family, or did events more or less pass them by?
L. F: They did pass them by but there was always a close, like that thing like about the bomb now going off right, something similar happened to my father because he was a barber first, right, in his young days, when the British people were ruling completely, right, and they used have these sort of eh, I don't know what you'd call them, I suppose eh, this thing that they'd come in with their guns and search every place, do you know what I mean? So they came into the Barbershop and all hand up in the air immediately right and they searched the place and they gave it a real gruelling over, I mean right down into the pots and pans and whatever it was that they had in the thing looking for bombs and he was only a young fella at the time serving his time, he told me this and em, he eh, he was scared out of his livings, because they'd put the gun in your face and that was it right, and when they went away the guys that were, the other two barbers that were there were laughing about the whole thing, and they put their hand up the chimney and pulled down this box full of soot and opened it and here's two guns inside in it, the box right...
S. H: You could have all been shot maybe yeah...
L. F: Oh, no problem, you know, and he said that was the closest brush that he ever came across.
S. H: Were they Black and Tans or Auxiliaries or Regulars or could he remember?
L. F: The guys that came in were the Black and Tans, right, and the guys that were the rebels, or what we used to call em in those days, what were they? The IRA I suppose, the Old IRA I suppose, you know...
S. H: That's very interesting.
GoD: when you were looking inside what sparked your memory, of any of the articles inside, reminiscences. What got you thinking of all these memories?
FC: Yeah. The layout was. We had a very special hat department inside the door I’ll always remember. I spent most of my time in the men’s outfitting they called it. The layout was different. All the stuff was in drawers. Today stuff is on the racks. It is hanging everywhere. But that time, a person came in for socks or anything you had to pull out a drawer and they’d pick and choose. The display was different. And you had these long mahogany counters. And I remember the hat department. While you got some lovely customers, you’d get some, those days, you’d get some very troublesome people. Over the years they became known, and they became known from other shops. We’d see them coming along, maybe down the stairs or coming up the store and we could always duck into the hat department and get away from them. We had great hideouts. Sometimes we could even manage to duck the boss if we saw him on the war path. The layout was better from that point of view. Everything is more open now, you couldn’t get away with anything. There was more crack as well. There was more jokes and playing pranks on people than there is today.
My father, God rest him, told me a story that in the early days in the Arcade, well before my time now, or your time, of course, they used to sleep in there. They had a dormitory, especially for fellas coming up from the country. And they’d great fun when fellas would come up from the country. One fella, pretending to be a doctor and he’d be examining and you know and all this. But there was one story told, that they used to go to bed at night. And it was almost like a boarding school. The supervisor would come along with a torch to make sure they were all in bed. Apparently one night one fella ducked out to a dance, and the authorities didn’t know anything about it. They dressed up one of the dummies and put it into his bed in the dormitory. Your man came back from the dance, got into his bed and nothing was known about it. That was one of the funny stories I heard. So, that is as much as I can tell you.
GoD: Ah, that’s brilliant. That’s great. Thanks ever so much.