Mary Sheehy: Gurranabraher, Street Traders, Bonfire Night

Mary Sheehy: Gurranabraher, Street Traders, Bonfire Night

Life History:

Mary was born in Washington Street in 1948; when she was 6 her family moved to Gurranabraher. Her mother was a trader in second-hand clothes in Kyle Street and a barmaid, her father worked for Cork Harbour Commissioners.
As a child, she had to wear special shoes for mass. Afterwards, they broke religious statues to get chalk out of them to play picky. How bonfires were made. How her mother sourced second-hand clothes. Kyle Street was for clothes, Coal Quay was a more general market. Her mother washed and ironed clothes before re-selling them.
Mary tells a story about a woman’s funeral. She explains that she always haggles when she buys clothes in shops; she tells a story about haggling for a coat. Mary still visits Coal Quay; she talks about haggling there.

2 November 2011

CFP_SR00416_sheehy_2011

Cork, Ireland, 1950s-2000s

Cork Folklore Project Audio Archive

Cork Folklore Project

English

Sound

1 .wav File

69min 09sec

Barretts Buildings, Cork

.wav

24bit / 48kHz

The following is a short extract from the interview transcript, copyright of the Cork Folklore Project. If you wish to access further archival material for this interview or other interviews please contact CFP, folklorearchive@gmail.com

                TD: We might talk a bit about what you remember about Kyle Street and the Coal Quay and the people you remember.

                MS: Oh my God. I’m telling ye boy. You go down there of a Saturday. It’d be a lovely sunny day, some Saturday’s anyway. And, you know if you’re mother made a good few pound, she’d say to me. “Go over there to the corner shop, and get a wafer”. Now you’d get two wafers maybe that time for tuppence and we’d be standing at the wall eating our wafers, the ice cream. And she’d say to me “In’t that lovely?” and I’d say “sure Jaysus, that’s gorgeous”. And then this Farmer then might come around, and Jaysus she used to make me laugh. This farmer would come around and she would have two pairs of 11 size boots and the farmer would say to her - always of a Tuesday it was farmer’s day - and the farmer would say to her, “How much are the boots missus?” and she’d turn round, she’d say “Seven pound for one pair boy, but I’ll tell ye what now look. I’ll give you the two pair for nine”, that kind of way and the bloody well stupid eejit would hand her a tenner.  He’d say to her “Sure that’s grand now missus”. Now it was seven pound for the two pair. And she’d say to him “But I’ll give you the two for nine”.  He’d hand her a tenner. Now ten pound that time was a lot, a lot of money and you’d be saying to yourself, “Oh my God, me day’s made anyway”. Y’know. That’s it. And she’d say to me “’Mere, G’wan bundle up all the stuff there now girl. We’re finished. We’re going. That’s it.” And I’d be saying. “Nah, mam, sure today’s Farmer’s Day now, there’ll be another crowd coming round now in a minute” - and there would be another crowd coming around. And God help us, this woman, she was a lovely woman now, I can’t bring up her name now a’tall. But there was this lovely woman. She used to the train up from Cobh. You’d see her running up Kyle Street, beautiful woman. And she’d say “Oh my God, Thank God Mary is here. Have you any stuff left?” Because my mam used to keep the stuff for her. She’d sell that down in Cobh. But God she was killed by the train so. Not sure I should say that or not, like. But, y’know, but me mam always used to give to her and she used to say “Erra for God’s sake, I’ve made enough now, that’s it”. And she’d go off. And I’d take the pram then off up Blarney Street, and she’d give me five shillings.