One of the most spectacular ways to bring happiness into a child’s life, giving them years of memories to look back on and smile at, later in life! 🙂
Here are some honest reflections on growing up as an Irish country baby.
#1 Young Lads
Fathers bring ‘the young lad’ with them pretty much everywhere! They become an exact forgery, talk the talk, walk the walk, wear the wellies and overalls!
Driving a tractor, sure what else would your 8 yr old son be doing during the silage season? He could be at worse, picking stones !!
#2 Moving Cattle
It didn’t matter if the cattle said howsa goin’, moved themselves and closed the gate, the aul’ fella would still have to hurl abuse at everyone and everything! Think it’s just part of the job description.
#3 After Mass
This is a bit of a bitter, sweet one! You could be waiting around the church yard for up to an hour after mass while the parents all congregated for their weekly chat. Then again the journey to the shop afterwards would quickly make up the torturous wait.
#4 Being A
Was this even an option? There are very few distinctions between the lives of little girls and boys in the countryside. A football into the face, sure wha’ about it????
Barefooted, snotty nosed, knees grazed.
Oh and “I’ll never marry a farmer” yeaah ri!
#5 Dinner time
Your poor poor mother. The number of random men liable to show up for dinner during the harvest ranges from 2-10! The spread of food, well you’ve never seen anything like it. This is where the Irish mammy shines; Her ability to make a limited amount of food sufficient for an unlimited number of people! The downside to all this commotion? YOU DIDN’T GET A MORSEL TO EAT !!! “Shh stop I’ll get you something to eat later”.
#6 The Wooden Spoon….
FUN FACT, Did you know that this was once in fact intended to be a cooking utensil!! Holy God this absolute weapon induced the fear of God in ya like nothing else! Plan of action: Hands on the arse and run forest, run!
What else would you need? Not to sound too cliche, but on a long summer’s evening there was nothing more enjoyable than a big game of fortyforty. Realising now that the more likely one was to be seriously injured, the more fun it all was! There could easily be 20 of you out on the lawn absolutely slaughtering each other.
#8 The Bog
This was utter persecution. Alongside pulling wild beet, there is nothing else in the world that a farmer’s son/daughter dreads more. The sun blistering your skin, nettles and thistles reefing your ankles and the brother wrecking your head!
A few tan lines, all the thanks you’d get.
Our mothers didn’t have it easy did they? You could leave home at 9am and not arrive back until 8pm that evening! If only they knew about that dodgy treehouse you made in the highest tree in Ireland, the amount of times you got stuck in the neighbours drain, or that bale your brother rolled over you.. We’re lucky to be alive!!
Irene, JournoCub 🙂