My name is Patrick Norris. I left Bunclody in 1968

First and foremost there is a large possibility that in my letter or essay I will make referral to some people who are sadly no longer with us. I hope that this does not offend or make it difficult for the still living relatives and loved ones. It is not intended to do so. This is basically a trip down memory lane from someone who long ago enjoyed growing up in one of the nicest little towns and countryside in Ireland and as I think back, some of my happiest memories are from those days.

Pat Norris

Part 1                         Part 2

A Days Shopping:

While I was browsing around the Internet some time ago I accidentally came across the Bunclody.net website. It was indeed a pleasant surprise, and I really enjoyed going through this site seeing the places where I grew up, and coming across some recognizable names of people who I knew back in the 1960's. It's absolutely amazing on how everything has changed the last 40 to 50 years. I knew of households then that didn't even have electricity, or inside water, and toilets were where you could find some nice grass in a shaded corner of a field somewhere.

Since the computer, Internet and mobile telephone era arrived it's almost impossible to remember what life was like before they did. Was life better back then or was it just different? I know one thing sure. Life was much simpler. In those days one had very few choices thus easier to make. Now we have so many choices it's almost impossible to make one, or some one else has already made it for you without your consent. In my day as a child growing up in Kilbranish, looking up at the mountains everyday, my biggest worry, was it going to rain, or was it going to rain cats and dogs. It usually rained. When I look at the generation of today I don't envy them one bit. When I was growing up I had the choices of, school, work, sleep, eat and attend Mass each Sunday and holydays. Actually they weren't choices. That was my life. When children of my generation left school they didn't have the option of following a career of their choice. It was basically, where was there work to be found and how soon could you start.

We had a little farm place up in Kilbranish where I lived with my Granny and Grandfather. Our means of transport was the same as most people then. A pony and cart. The high point of my week was a trip to Bunclody on a Friday afternoon after school or early Saturday morning. My Granny always purchased most of her shopping at Bond's, which was a little shop situated on the corner of Main Street and Church Road. She would go in and leave a list of her needs, and carried on about her business to the other little shops. Sometime later, she would return, her groceries would be packed in a cardboard box, and some young kid would carry it for her, and place in the ponies cart. Now that is what I call service. Her other favourite shop was Mylers the butchers, which I believe still exists and then to Walter Thorpe's on Main Street next to the Post Office. Her last visit was usually to Bertie Weston's which I now believe is a supermarket. She loved going to Bertie's shop even though she really didn't need anything there, but as he had almost everything she always enjoyed just looking around.

She was also an avid reader of books, mainly Westerns, which had her entering the doors to Dick Breen's TV and bookshop on Main Street. He didn't have a huge selection but from time to time she found something, and if not, Dick would look it up and order it for her. Where the Catholic Church now stands there was a large house, which I only remember as " The Priests House," and behind it, there was a huge vegetable garden where my Granny visited weekly for her supply of lovely fresh rhubarb. I think Willie Murphy from the Villas used to take care of this garden. The Post Office was the place for pension, letters, stamps and such, but if you wanted a bag of turf, or a new frying pan it was also possible to buy such things there.

All down along the mall there would be several ponies and carts tied to the trees, which still stand. It was always busy on shopping day. In many ways, shopping was also a large social occasion. It was the only time that people from around the countryside met up with one another. They could catch up on all the news from the different areas and of course catch up on all the gossip. They always had time for each other and on the way home I always remember my Granny updating my Grandfather on all the news she had picked up from the shopping trip. Somehow Grannies were much better at gathering news than Grandfathers. His job on these trips, was to make sure that the pony was warm and tied securely, and to make sure he picked up all the heavy groceries such as coal, and large bags of oaten meal which he purchased up the lane behind Weston's under the Protestant Church. I think they called it the Chase lane but I forget the name of the shop up there.

Another part of his agenda, not necessarily shared with my Granny, was his trip down to the pub on the corner of Irish Street and Ryland Road. This was situated across the road from the Anglers Rest. I think it was called Connelly's then and the name of the woman there was called Essie. He always went there for his weekly few bottles of stout and his large plug of tobacco before he turned the pony up Barkers Road headed for the hills. He would put me up on one of the bar stools and from time to time he would let me sip from the Guinness bottle. I found it horrible stuff but I never refused him cause he liked to see the look on my face as I tried to swallow. These days I would almost murder for such a bottle of stout but helaas…

My highlight of this trip was picking up my weekly comic called " The Victor" or "The Beano" at "O'Leary's Newsagents" on Main Street. I had that on order and no matter what happened they would always hold the comic's for me even if I hadn't turned up for weeks. The climax of this trip for me was if I had been a good boy all week, my Granny rewarded me with a big coloured ice cream wedged between lovely crispy wafers. I can still see and taste that lovely white and pink ice cream as I licked it between the wafers hoping that I could get it all into me before it melted.

Those were the days.

Next time around maybe I will tell you a little about me and what roads I have travelled since I left you all. Till then.

Take care, Pat.

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