I was privileged to interview a number of former
employees of Shaws over the last two years while working on a history of that
firm. One of those interviewed was a
lady who started to work in Shaws of Athy as World War II entered its final
phase. Her story was typical of anyone
employed away from their home town or village in those war-torn years. The memory of those difficult times is now
fading, but accounts such as that of the County Tipperary lass brings home to
later generations what life was like in Ireland of the 1940s. Seventy-two years have passed since my interviewee
spoke of her journey home on Christmas Eve 1945 but let her take up her story.
‘I left my home in Co. Tipperary in 1944 to take up my apprenticeship
with Shaws in Athy. Being the war years
there were no trains, no petrol for cars, so I set off on my high nelly bike for
the neighbouring town from where I continued my journey by bus to Naas with my
bicycle safely on top. I reached Naas at
3 p.m. with a ten shilling note in my pocket.
By this time I was hungry but could not afford to spend money on food,
as my ten shillings had to last a long long time. I would need money for a stamp to write home
each week, and a penny for church on Sunday mornings and another penny for the
Methodist Church on Sunday evenings, which as a staff member of Shaws I had to
attend. I had to wait in Naas ‘til 6
p.m. in order to continue my journey to Athy on the Dublin bus. Alas, when the bus did arrive, it was full
up. A man who had seen me waiting there
for so long, came and told me that a hackney was coming to Naas from Athy to
collect some people and he would ask the owner if he had room for me. The man was Tommy Stynes who kindly brought
me to Athy, and I didn’t have to give him any money.
My first Christmas 1945 I worked ‘til 10 p.m. as some customers seemed
to get joy from coming in five minutes before closing time. Between chatting and browsing, they wouldn’t
leave til near 10 p.m., never giving a thought as to how far the staff would
have to cycle home. As I worked in the
cash desk, I would be almost the last to leave, so it would be 11 p.m. before I
could start my journey home. As it was
the war years street lights and directions on sign posts were not allowed, in
case of a German invasion. The roads
were not tarred, except the main roads from Dublin to Cork and Dublin to
Limerick. I knew I had to cycle through
Maryborough (as it was known then), Mountrath, Borris in Ossory, Roscrea,
Dunkevin and then home. In Mountrath, I
turned right, instead of left and went on to Ballyfin, where I met a man “full
of Christmas cheer.” He told me to go
back to Mountrath and turn right after the church. On reaching Roscrea I was so tired I lay on
the frosty grass for a while, and then walked ‘til the numbness left my
legs. I arrived home on Christmas
morning at 7.30 a.m., spent Christmas Day at home and then cycled back to Athy
on Saint Stephen’s Day. Oh was I
tired? Some of the staff cycled to
Gorey, some to Inistioge, and others to different destinations, just to be home
for Christmas. We had no other
option. For three years this was the way
we had to go if we were to see “Home Sweet Home”.
It is understandably difficult for anyone accustomed
to modern motorways and motorised travel to imagine how important a bicycle was
in the life of Irish folk during the war and indeed for many years after it
ended. I remember my father cycling to
Tullow, Co. Carlow where he was temporarily filling in for a local sergeant who
was indisposed. Those were the days when
the bicycle was the only mode of transport for most people as car ownership was
the preserve of the rich and the professional classes.
Last week when writing of past Shackleton Autumn
Schools I overlooked the contribution of Liam O’Flynn, Ireland’s foremost piper
who performed at two Autumn Schools.
Another omission was the absence of any reference to the Autumn School
journal, ‘Nimrod’ which has been
produced every year and this year reaches its eleventh edition.
No comments:
Post a Comment