Jim's Scratchings

Blog Moved

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 21:22:00 +0000

Anyone dropping in here please go to the updated blog by clicking HERE.

At the moment I'm trying to track down whoever is causing the pop ups in this blog. I'm doing that by removing all of the widgets and add ins and as soon as I discover the one that causes the pop ups I'll publicise it on the web.

As many of the regular visitors to my blog may know, my sister Chris passed on to her eternal reward last week, to the inexpressible grief of all the family. One of my other sister's (Marie) has written a nice tribute to her on what is now our family blog. More tributes and memories of Chris will follow very soon. In the meantime please do visit us by clicking as above or HERE.

Thank you.

Jim

Popups

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Wed, 20 May 2009 19:03:00 +0000

Just a note to say that if anyone is experiencing unwanted popups (never heard of a wanted one) there's a replica of this blog.

If you'd like to go there clicking HERE will bring you to it.

I'll keep both blogs going until such time as I find out where the popups in this one are coming from and removing the cause.

Meanwhile here's a little slideshow showing Seán my grandson as well as some photos taken locally.

Seán's poor face? I thought you'd be wondering about that. Some weeks ago he fell heavily against the sharp edge of a corner. We thought he was very badly injured but thanks in no small part to being treated quickly and efficiently by my son Jimmy who's a paramedic the injury was kept to an absolute minimum. Seán has a scar as you can see, but it's fading quickly as my daughter, his mother Antoinette, treats it daily.

And this post started as a short one about popups? :-)

Hello again

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Wed, 06 May 2009 14:15:00 +0000

Hello again!

Where have you been eh? It's been awhile, but at last I feel more up to continuing my blog.

Before continuing with my stories I thought I'd introduce a video clip made at Summerhill, the place where I was born and where much of my old memories are based. The video clip begins at the junction of Summerhill and the North Circular Road.

But this is a Summerhill much changed from the Summerhill of my childhood. It'll be obvious which are the newer parts when you compare the obviously older parts which have hardly changed.

Summerhill in Wintertime....

Liz me cuz in Oz.. see if you can spot where you were born. That part of the street is wider now, but the bus stop is still in the same place, or very close to it's original spot. I can see my old school... the house where the old dinner house was is still there too. A close look will show the new houses going down in a slope where the old 27 Steps used to be. And how the junction of Summerhill and Gardiner Street has changed.

Back soon with a yarn or two......

Memory of Ma by Marie

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 13:37:00 +0000

To the right is a photo of our Ma, taken in O'Connell Street Dublin about 1950.

I wanted to include this photo with the nice memory and tribute to Ma that my sister Marie wrote below.

The words that follow are Marie's......

"My ma was a wonderful woman she cared so much for us kids i will never forget her this is my little bit about my ma....

My ma was the best ma anyone could ever have I love her with all my heart....now I want to share my ma with you she would love that.

I remember my ma as the most beautiful woman I ever seen. She was loving and caring to all she met. She loved us kids and would do anything for us.

I remember when it was Jim's birthday she got him a cake she even put candles on it we did not know much about birthdays at that time but ma wanted to make it special for Jim cos he was going into hospital. He had an operation and we kids looked on as we seen that look between mother and son she loved him so much as she did all of us.

But Jim was going to have an operation and she was very worried about him because she did not know what the outcome was to be.

It was great that evening when Jim came home. I dont know where he had been, maybe at work but ma told us not to say a word to Jim so she went into the kitchen and brought out the cake with all the candles lighting it was great because it was the first time we seen a cake with candles.
She told us all to wish Jim a happy birthday. Now as I think of it it might have been Jim's 16th she made such a fuss over it wanted it to be right and it was great we all looked on as Jim blew out the candles and we had lemonade what a evening that was.

Then Jim had to go into hospital to have this operation, and we as kids did not understand what this operation was about but we seen ma was worried and told us all to pray for Jimmy.

I remember going to the hospital to see Jimmy and seeing ma asking him how he felt after the operation. She listened carefully to what he said but Jimmy was a young boy and he said he was grand.

Then ma got talking to another young boy in the next bed to Jimmy and was asking him what was wrong with him and was his ma coming up to see him. The young boy was from Artane Industrial School and had no one to come and see him. He told ma about things that had happend to him in the school. Ma felt sorry for this young boy so much that every time she went to visit Jim she talked to the young lad in the next bed to him, her heart went out to the young boy.

She held that young boy in her heart and as the years passed she always talked about him to us kids saying how lucky we were to have a home and a ma I think till the day she died she remembered that young boy in the next bed to Jimmy cos at times she would talk about that boy.

Ma loved everyone and I know she is watching over us kids to this day. I will love you ma for ever....kisses from your daughter Marie."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks Marie. Some lovely memories there.... memories to treasure. And I agree with something you said in the first line.... she would love us to share our memories of her.

I'm sure she's smiling now.

Our Dad

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Mon, 05 May 2008 15:11:00 +0000

Remembering our Dad today.

Our dear Dad who went to sleep peacefully on this day, 5th May 1983, aged 61 years.

I wrote little notes of memories, poems and little other bits and pieces in tribute to you Dad. But my thoughts kept returning to one that I always associate with you....

So once more for you Da....

Only a Dad..........but the best of men,
Only a dad with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race;
Bringing little of gold and fame
To show how well he has played the game.
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come home, and hear his voice.

Only a dad... of a brood of four.
One of ten million men or more.
Plodding along in the daily strife,
Bearing the whips and scorns of life
With never a whimper of pain or hate,
For the sake of those who at home await.

Only a dad... neither rich nor proud.
Merely one of the surging crowd.
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever came his way.
Silent.... whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.

Only a dad... but he gave his all
To smooth the way for his children small.
Doing... with courage stern and grim,
The deeds that his father did for him.
These are the lines that for him I pen,

Only a dad............... but the best of men.

Remembering you today, Da... you are forever in our hearts.

Jim ~ Tony ~ Marie ~ Chris ~ Ellen ~ Paul

A ramble around my town.

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 13:53:00 +0000

Before I continue with my stories, yet another showing to my readers of a bit of my city -- I offer this video clip.

Much of this video before 7 am on an Easter Sunday morning, so Dublin will look very quiet to you.

The video starts with street scenes from around Dublin followed by landmarks such as Dublin Castle, St. Patrick's Cathedral, St. Stephen's Green, The Natural History Museum, Merrion Square.

There are a few photos from the Barenaked Ladies concert at the Olympia theater. Then the rest of the footage is from Howth (pronounced Hoath - rhymes with both).

Music: Eoin Coughlan - Ancient Breathing
Flogging Molly - May the Living (Be Dead in our Wake)
BNL - Wind It Up (Live in Dublin)
Nomos - I'm Going to Set You Free

Enjoy.

See you soon.... more stories and memories yet to come.

Dublin. My Fair City

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 13:23:00 +0000

And so after a long break from posting I move on.

I have a lot of stories to tell yet, so many that this blog will never end so please stay with me and share in my memories. You might laugh with me, be shocked by things I have yet to tell you about, you may even be very surprised by some of my memories, particularly if you happen to know me personally.

So far I think I have painted in part a city of want... a city of hard times. And indeed it was exactly like that for many of us just as I tell it.

But for those who have never actually seen or been in my city I want to show that it's a beautiful city. (But then I'm biased.) It's a vibrant city that never (or seldom ever) sleeps. A city where the ancient past and the modern can be seen and experienced side by side -- a city of beauty and one steeped in history.

Dublin has moved on quite a bit since the time Im writing this blog about. And to give you some idea of what she looks and sounds like I've embedded a video clip below. The musicical backing is by Dublin band U2.

Now you can get a taste of Dublin city as she is today! This video clip shows a range of the sights to be enjoyed in and around the city of Dublin. If you're looking for the ancient and modern, a lively city with a vibrant nightlife, a glimpse of an ancient civilisation, a cultural feast, a musical odyssey, stunning scenery, and a spectacular coastline - Dublin has all of this... and more!

Take a look for yourself!

Enjoy.

I'll be back soon with more stories, and maybe I'll show you yet more of my city as I have above.

Thank you for your loyalty.... and for your interest in the stories of a young Dublin gurrier.

A final farewell Jem.

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 23:11:00 +0000

It's one week now since Jimmy, my brother-in-law left us to go to a far better place.

He is now resting near my father, mother and other family members in St Fintan's in Sutton. If you walked a bit down the slope at St Fintan's, and looked to your centre left, and if the light was just right you would be treated to the lovely serene view that you see here to the right. My father used to say that it was "The healthiest graveyard in Ireland!" because of the clean and fresh sea air.

Jimmy appreciated that kind of humour too.

I mentioned below that Jimmy loved the tenor voices of Mario Lanza and Luciano Pavarotti. So I will now bid a final adieu to you Jem.... no one that ever knew you will forget you..... walk with God my friend.

To Jimmy

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Sun, 04 Nov 2007 00:59:00 +0000

This is a photo of Jimmy McLoughlin singing in a bar in Spain. A happy day for him and for all who were with him.

But on Tuesday 30th of October 2007 Jimmy left us.

Many from the Summerhill area drop in to read this blog, many who will know Jimmy. Bide a moment and remember him.

And to help you remember him, he lived at one time in 42K, right next door to Terry Kelly's pub which later became Hourican's. It stood at the corner of Lower Rutland Street and Summerhill. And Jimmy went to Rutland St school.

Jimmy, (or Jem as we used to call each other -- both of our real names being James) was a husband to Joan, a dad, a grandad, a brother, a brother-in-law...... a man of a big, loving family.... and a son still grieving at the passing of his dear mother May and of his father John.

He was a friend with an ever cheery word.. and I will miss that as well as the good natured slagging we sometimes shared when he regularly dropped by my home.

He shall be missed.

But a few words of a poem often help us ponder.... and to realise that...

There is no death!
The stars go down
To rise upon another shore,
And bright in heaven's jeweled crown
They shine for evermore.

Jimmy loved music and song. He enjoyed the singing of Dean Martin and the tenor voices of Mario Lanza and Luciano Pavarotti, a love of tenor voices I believe he inherited from his father who had a lovely tenor voice himself.

So I will leave you now Jimmy.... I will leave as Pavarotti the tenor maestro performs in a way that you loved.

Farewell Jem.... this is for you.....

A little Irish culture

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 14:52:00 +0000

It's now one week since I heard of the passing to her eternal reward of our friend from the GB, Sarah.

Sarah loved and was proud of her Irish roots.

So before I return to write again about the dear old mean streets of Dublin, and about my early life's experiences in those streets. I want to say a final farewell... adieu.. slán to Sarah (or Sally as she's known to her family)

This is not a mark of mourning at her passing, but a celebration of her life.

A piece of ceol agus rince.... always part of a true Irish way of bidding a final fond goodbye.

I think she would like this, it's the original Riverdance as it was seen for the first time here in Dublin.

For you Sarah.

Farewell Sarah

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Thu, 11 Oct 2007 23:18:00 +0000

A guestbook, a shoutbox, the comments to posts in blogs. Who gives them much thought? Not many I'll bet. Most leave a note and that's it. Some don't even bother.

But you can meet some special people through writing in a guestbook. I and many others met such a special person.

If you read through one of my shoutboxes or many of the comments to my posts you'll see the name Sarah.

I first 'met' Sarah on another guestbook, the one for the Gardiner St Website Sarah was a daily visitor there, spreading her cheer and chat with the other regulars on that guestbook. Yes it's that kind of guestbook, one where people from all over the world meet, get to know each other and become friends. I chose a yellow rose here because in a recent topic on roses Sarah said her favourite is yellow.

Now Sarah has left us. She went to her eternal reward on 10th of this month.

This beautiful yellow rose is for you Sarah.

I offer my deepest sympathy to her family, friends and everyone who knew and loved her.

We will all miss you Sarah, but are comforted in knowing that you are in a better place. May God bless you and all who love you.

~Ár deis Dia go raibh a n-ainm.~

He's moved!

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Wed, 26 Sep 2007 21:12:00 +0000

He isn't here at the moment. We're just minding some of this stuff that he has all parcelled up to move to the new blogger page.

We can't understand why he's moving at all, but who can understand humans anyway?

But he asked us to mention to anyone dropping in (he thinks we can talk too!) that he's working hard moving all the stuff from the old blog to the new one. Said something about the new one being easier because of something called elements.

Anyway, give him a few days to get everything sorted and he'll be back waffling about his time as a kitty... oops that should be a human kid.

Oh yeh, and he said the web address will remain the same.

He left a game for you humans to play with, it's at the bottom. Nothing for us though!

Anyone got a bit o' fish or something to donate to us minders? The parcels are comfortable to sleep on but no good for eating.... we tried.

Bye for now. (Right gang, lets see whats in that big square one... )

I'm on the move

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Sat, 22 Sep 2007 13:23:00 +0000

But only to the new blogger.

The address will remain the same and none of the posts should change.

However the add-ins like guestbook, map and other bits and pieces should look neater by the time I've completed the move. At least I hope so.

The blog might look a bit different in a day or two, but please bear with me. Things can only get better. (fingers crossed)

Very soon I'll be back with my stories of growing up in Dublin's inner city.... I've been doing a lot of thinking and remembering, so drop back often if you're interested.... and even if you're not because you might become interested. And believe me, if you have even the slightest interest in old Dublin I have lots to tell you.

Seeya soon.

Sean's First Steps

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Sat, 25 Aug 2007 01:40:00 +0000

A new Leonard on the block. This is a little video clip of the newest Leonard -- Sean's First Steps

Memory of a 3 year old Marie

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Tue, 03 Jul 2007 13:59:00 +0000

The corner you see in the picture is one of those corners I mentioned earlier when I referred to The Four Corners of Hell. In this photo you can see one of the pubs (this one was "The Green Kilt") that stood at the four corners -- the other three corners are out of picture. Summerhill is the street in picture and the side of the pub is in Lower Gardiner Street, 5 doors from where Marie was born. (The pub is No 121 Lr Gardiner St. Marie was born in No 116 five doors to the left, out of picture)

Our Gran used to sell fruit and sweets from a stall at that corner of Summerhill and Gardiner Street. The 'stall' was one of those old high prams with the big springs and different sized wheels back and front. The fruit and bags of sweets were set out on a board, usually a breadboard, stretched across the pram and passers by bought apples and pears for one penny each and a bag of broken rock was two pence.

She used to go to sweet factories and buy big lumps of boiled rock that had spilled over the edge of the boiled-sweet making machine. Rock that had gone hard and all out of shape. (Rock is that round stick of toffee that you see on sale at seasides) She would bring these slabs of rock home where she had this little hammer that she used to break it into smaller pieces, small enough to fit in your mouth. Then she would fill small paper bags or sometimes paper cones made of a newspaper page and that's how the sweets were presented for sale.

Click to see Gran here: "The Mother of all the Leonards"

And here's where Gran used to buy the fruit, at the Fruit Market.

Now on with Marie's memories.....

"I remember when I was about 3 years old my gran would take me to the fruit market with her. We would have to go to the markets very early in the morning before the fruit was sold out, and she would push me along on a big old pram that she would put all her boxes of fruit on. Because she used to sell the fruit we did not get any free samples, but to see the big apples and the oranges god did they make my mouth run water.

As I say, she used to sell sweets as well. I loved her weighing scales and I remember she bought me a toy one. It was yellow and red. One day when I was in her basement flat, I think it was beside The 27 Steps, I wanted to weigh her sweets on my weighing scales and she would not let me so I threw a tantrum and smashed my weighing scales. Well all hell broke loose then. God did I get into trouble for that. My mam said, "Mary dont give her anything else she is too bold." Mary was my Grans name.

But she was very hard on us sometimes my Gran,and then at other times she was very good.

I remember another time I was walking down Sean McDermot street with her and the priest was passing us and because I did not genuflect to the priest I got a wallop across the head and was told, "You are to always respect the priest!" God if only we knew what was to come out in later years about the priests I wonder would I have got that smack in the head.

Anyway if we where bold, like I often was, I was told I would be brought to the priest and he would stick me to the floor. We where so afraid of the priests power. Or we would be told we would be put in the Magdalen Home and never allowed out again. The things we would be told was scary.

But best of all I loved when my Gran would bring me into Willie Barratt's (a shop two doors away from where I lived in Gardiner Street) and buy me a glass of milk and snow cake. I loved that. When I think back the cake would melt in my mouth and the milk was lovely because it was in a real glass not a jam jar."

Ah sure they were the days.....

You'll Never Walk Alone

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Thu, 10 May 2007 12:34:00 +0000

This song has special meaning to me, and although the street scenes are of Liverpool they could well be my Dublin in the 1960s. Hard to tell them apart. They're the kind of streets I grew up in and the kids might well be my friends and me.

Thank you to Webbie over at World Link in Gardiner Street Dublin for pointing me to this video clip. Visitors who click on that link please drop in to the Guest Book there and get to know the nicest people you could ever hope to meet.

Our Dad.....our forever friend

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Sat, 05 May 2007 11:56:00 +0000

On this date 24 years ago at about 9.30pm I looked up to see a head shaking sadly from side to side. No words were immediately spoken, but I knew....our Dad had passed on to his eternal reward.

Scalding tears of unspeakable grief drenched my face. My Dad, my Friend was gone!

But the pain was eased a bit in the knowledge that he was no longer in pain....that he was once again united with the woman who was his life's partner, our Mother, who had so recently left us too... and they must be happy together again once more.

That's why I chose the photo above. It's a picture of them together in life, now they are forever together.

And we remember... with love and pride in our hearts.

I have chosen a poem for this day. It's the original version of the poem by Mary Frye. It strikes a familiar chord.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

And thats where Dad is for me.... all around me... and always living in my heart.

You see he is as it says at the top of this post..... my forever friend.

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Sat, 21 Apr 2007 14:54:00 +0000

The Loanshark.

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Wed, 21 Mar 2007 03:58:00 +0000

In an earlier entry I mentioned something about a man who made my mother cry. I want to speak a bit about that man, the situation that caused my Ma to cry, and what happened after that.

The man was a loanshark. But this time my mother didn't have a loan from him. You see he also went around offering to colour old black & white family pictures and for that you repaid him weekly. The weekly repayments never seemed to end. This guy was well known and disliked in the area. But he was tolerated. They had to tolerate him because so many people depended on the money he used to lend, even if it was at an astronimical interest. At that time there was no legal protection from these guys. They could charge what interest they liked on loans.

Anyway, my Ma gave him a black & white picture of her mother and father to colour and he did the job. Not a great job, but to have a family picture in colour and in a nice frame was a thing to be proud of back then.

He called every week for his payments. A small bald headed man who wore thin wire rimmed round spectacles, always carried a thin briefcase, some kind of folder under his arm and he always seemed to carry his hat in his hand rather than on his head. I remember noticing that his head seemed to be perpetually sunburned. He would rap on the door and call out, "The picture man!" and Ma would open the door and give him his weekly payment. He never spoke, just took the money, wrote something in a notebook and went on his way.

But one week Ma was short of money and couldn't pay. He stood back from the door and shouted that he wasn't doing this for nothing. That he wasn't a charity! I remember him shouting that he knew my Dad was working and that Ma was well able to pay. And they were just the printable things he said. I was just a kid but I could see that Ma was very upset and that she was crying. I remember wanting to hit that guy, but he went off still calling over his shoulder that she better have it (the payment) next week, and on the double or there'd be trouble. Ma sat at our one table with her head in her hands and cried and I saw how she shook. She asked me not to say anything to Dad when he came in, so I kept quiet.

But I brooded about what had happened, and especially about how upset Ma had been.

Meet my three my pals from that time. In no particular order there was Sean (Seanie) who was the oldest, he was about a year older than me and I thought he was very wise. He read a lot of books. So did I but his were never fiction. He was a mine of information on WWII which he seemed to read about an awful lot. He was the quiet one, but the one who no one crossed because he spoke quietly and struck out if you annoyed him. Someone who could frighten. But like I say, I liked him and sort of looked up to him too.

Then there was Jimmy (yes another one, I was called Jimmy then too). Jimmy was the skinny one, or at least he was skinnier than me. But Jimmy was a great singer. I liked him for that, he seemed to sing all the time and sometimes Seanie would give him a wallop to shut him up. It wasn't a hard wallop, just hard enough to shut poor Jimmy up. Jimmy always took it in good part and now that I think of it I don't think I ever say him in bad humour. In fact he used to slag off Seanie just for the hell of it.

Paddy made up the third of the four of us. Paddy was a dreamer. He lived the western movies that we used to go to see at the local cinemas, or picture houses as we called them. We never called them cinemas. There were three main ones that we went to. The Maro (in Mary Street), The Plaza (in Granby Row) and The Lec (the latter short for the grand name of "The New Electric Cinema", which was in Talbot Street) If we saw a movie (oh yeh, we didn't call them movies, they were 'the pictures') about Zorro for instance then Paddy would be wearing a Zorro mask and cape and carrying a sword (home made of course) until we went to see the next western. There was one I recall about the Alamo and Davy Crockett. Well Paddy had to get that furry hat too, the one with the tail hanging on the back. I know they had a proper name but we just called them Davy Crockett hats.

Then there was me of whom you might know enough, and if not I'll talk more at a later date.

Now, the four of us used to sit on the steps outside the tenements in Summerhill. I think they call those steps 'the stoop' in the US. Seanie told me that. So a few nights after what had happened to Ma I talked about it as we chatted on the steps. Seanie said we should do something. Jimmy agreed, but then again Jimmy always agreed with Sean, it was good for his health. Paddy said he should be run out of town. I definitely wanted something done. So we talked about it and made a plan that I honestly didn't believe would work, and also I thought it would take too long and I wanted justice now.

But we carried on with the plan. Out at the back of where we lived there was a very big yard, long grass growing through the skeletons of rusted bits of bikes,old iron bedsteads, a place where kids weren't allowed to play and grown ups didn't go. And there was one big feral cat living amongst this junk. We set out to make friends with the cat. We brought it bits of food and we sat nearby while it ate until eventually it's fear of us seemed to go away and it would come and beg food from us, and rub itself against our legs. I remember that although the cat had become more or less friendly that I was still a bit wary of it.

The day dawned, as they say in all the best stories.....

Along one side of that yard I spoke of there was a high (to us) wall, and running beside the wall was the lane that led from The Diamond to Gardiner Street, where we lived. We sort of hung on the wall, leaning partly over it with our legs hanging inside so that only our heads and part of our shoulders could be seen from the lane. Beside us sat The Cat. He (or she) had never been named, it was always The Cat. We knew that the loan shark (or the picture man, take your pick -- he was both anyway)came from The Diamond, up the lane and into Gardiner Street, on foot of course, only the wealthy had cars. He may have been wealthy but didn't have a car. I remember what he was wearing. He had on a long overcoat that was called A Crombie, an expensive coat at the time, and as usual he carried his hat in his hand. His bald head like a beacon as he drew closer.

We remained very quiet until he drew level with us who were now above him, along with The Cat. Just as he was immediately below us Seanie dropped the bomb, which was The Cat! Maybe it was because of all those war books he read or something, but his bomb aiming was perfect. The Cat landed right on the picture man's bald head! Ever see a cat when it's scared? It sort of makes a hump and digs it's claws in? Well that's exactly what it did. Only when it dug in it's claws they were into yer man's bald head. He actually screamed, which I suppose frightened the cat even more with predictable results and when he tried to knock it off his head that cat dug in for dear life. The result to the picture man was that his bald pate was lacerated with cat scratches. His head was covered in blood and I remember seeing it on the shoulder of his Crombie coat too. The Cat took off and jumped the wall beside us and the picture man ran in the direction of Gardiner Street. We ran through the house and into the street to see where he was heading, and a woman had already stopped him and she applied first aid. It was just scratches but they bled a lot, and most of all the whole thing gave him a major fright. I mean it's not every day that a cat lands on your head out of the blue.

We remained friends with The Cat, or maybe that should read The Cat remained friends with us even after how we had treated it so mean that one time. It followed us about until eventually we saw it no more and assumed it had either died or had run off with a mate.

The picture man? Yes he came back the following week and he had sticking plaster still covering his scratches. We were standing at our hall door when he called and Seanie told him not to call anymore. Jimmy got a fit of the giggles, Paddy told him to get out of our street and I remember him looking at me and I think even then he knew why he had been ambushed by these four kids. But Seanie took it upon himself to explain anyway.

I don't think Ma ever paid for that picture (no one ever called afterwards for the money), and as far as I know someone in the family still has it.

So that was the tale of a cat and four boys, who as it happens didn't turn out to be gangsters after all. Close but not really. The picture at the top is the scene of the 'crime', X marks the spot.

Next time I think I'll talk a bit about The Four Corners of Hell and how we used to have a ringside seat after the pubs closed and the fights started.

Till then.... look up if passing a high wall!

Happy New Year 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Tue, 02 Jan 2007 00:54:00 +0000

Hello everyone, and a Very Happy New Year to All.

I'm sorry it's taking so long to continue with the story, but since my last post here I had a bit of a relapse in that I haven't been feeling the best. But then again it's that kind of weather here in Ireland, the kind where it seems everyone has colds and sniffles of some kind. As well as that the doc did tell me that it would be about 6 weeks before I'd be back to my old self again, so I'm trying to be patient (no pun intended :-)

But all of this has given me a lot of time to do some thinking and remembering and that has resulted in more stories that I have yet to tell.

Then too, just the other morning I was taking a short walk and met an old schoolfriend. Philly and me started primary school in Rutland Street on the same day, we were in the same classes and had the same teachers. Back then you had to have a 'partner' in school (think it was to make it easier for the teachers to keep us under control) and anywhere you went either in the school, in the playground, or on outings to the local church you had to hold hands with your partner. Philly was my 'partner' in school.

Anyway, Philly and me (should that be Philly and I? My grammar was always the pits) got to chatting after greeting and wishing each other the compliments of the Season. We must have looked like two lunatics standing there in the biting wind chatting like two old..... (oops better not say that or I'd be in trouble with the wimmin :-) We were on a trip down memory lane and didn't notice the weather as we remembered the good days and the bad ones. That chat with Philly has reminded me of things I had almost forgotten, and later I'll be talking about them here. Thanks Philly, may ya never want!

As we parted I said to Philly, "As I remember the things we got up to I wonder how come we managed to stay outta REAL trouble at all?" Philly's answer was a good one. "We caused our share of mayhem.... but we never actually hurt anyone." Maybe THAT'S why our memories are all mainly good ones.

On that note I'll take my leave for now and I look forward to getting back to the writing. Remember where we left off? I have to tell you about how we kids settled a score with a man, a loan shark, who made my mother cry. Coming soon.

Just a note to my loyal friends......

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Mon, 18 Dec 2006 02:06:00 +0000

Hello all! :-)

I feel I must thank everyone who dropped in here while I was away and kept the blog going just by your presence alone. I knew you were dropping in because at first the reason I wasn't able to keep the blog up-to-date was because I didn't have a working computer, but I was able from time to time to look in on the site anyway from a friends's house.

I must say that it was truly heartening to see that people, and you my friends in particular, were dropping in, even while you knew that I wasn't keeping the blog as up to date as I should have been. This is true loyalty! You know who you are, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your belief in me and for your friendship.

Then I had the computer fixed and up and running again. But still my being able to continue the story was frustrated because I became ill. At first I put it down to tiredness, lack of interest. Yet I knew I wasn't not writing through lack of interest because I really and truly enjoy sharing my stories. In a nutshell I felt pretty much... or rather that should be pretty NOT much myself :-)

So then one evening I discovered that my breathing apparatus seemed to be packing up. Scary business! If I made the smallest effort I felt as if I'd ran a marathon and was breathing like a bull.

I did the usual (bad) thing. I figured if you ignore it it will go away. It didn't.

So at last the breathing just seemed to stop! Yep, just like that. To say it gave me a fright would be to greatly understate it. I called my son (Jimmy the Paramedic.... sounds like a Mafia name that doesn't it?.... Like Jimmy the Fish.... ahh you know what I mean :-) in the middle of the night and asked him if I might have pneumonia or something. He gave me the advice that I should have had the good sense not to need anyway.... he told me there were no short cuts.... I had to see the doc and get properly checked out.

So next morning (I was a bit surprised to actually make it to the next morning) I called the doc and told her that either she see me now or else send an ambulance to take me to hospital. (That was just me doing my panic bit) and she replied that if I came to her now she'd see me immediately. I told her I could hardly walk. She insisted. She's so nice.

To make this long story short I did make it to the doc's office and she had a listen to my breathing (almost non existant), heart and so on. Then she said the words that every hypochondriac wants to hear. "Okay, you're bad, but not as bad as you think. Lungs a bit tight (a BIT? I thought they'd shrunk and disappeared!), so lets go in here and see what we can do."

Off we went to a different office and she placed one of those jet pilots face masks over my face, and told me to breathe normally. (Missus, if I could breather normally I wouldn't be here!) But I tried anyway.... and in minutes I was so relaxed that I almost fell asleep. God bless whoever invented oxygen! The doc left me in charge of a rather pretty and chatty nurse and off she went saying she'd be back soon. Funny how a pretty nurse can take your mind off what you believe may be your imminent departure from this vale of tears. Few minutes later the doc came back, put some stuff into the face mask and in a matter of moments I was breathing like a kid again. I swear, I sort of shuffled into that surgery like a man in chains, and after my treatment I walked out like a soldier on duty! Amazin' what they can do these days.

Bottom line (hah... I know who's saying now "Awww thank gawd, I thought he was never going to shut up!") is I had some kind of lung infection, a chest infection just for good measure, and my first ever asthmatic attack.... all at once.

Well the good news is I'm on the road to recovery. At the mo I'm still a bit under the weather but I suppose that's to be expected. I'm taking so many pills that if I jumped now I'd rattle.

And the even better news is that I'll be continuing the story very soon.... just as soon as the doc tells me I'm free of whatever it was that made me ill in the first place.

So till then, and I hope this will be very, very soon. I want to say a huge heartfelt thank you to all of my friends who never gave up on me. You're the best!

Soon.

Remembering today.......

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Sun, 02 Jul 2006 12:38:00 +0000

Our Ma who went to her reward on this day. 2nd July 1979 Aged 52 years..

On the wings of a memory we see a vision of you there,with a smile in your eyes, heaven's light in your hair.

We feel your presence on the wind we smell you on the rain,

And the memory of your laughter eases all pain.

To see that wonderful little grin on your face,

To have your smile light up even the darkest place.

If it were possible, we'd pray you back home with the dawn,

But Ma, on the wings of our memories you're not really gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ma. You fought the brave fight and were valiant.

Thank you for your love. Thank you for being our Ma.

Remembering you today, Ma... and for always.

Jim ~ Tony ~ Marie ~ Chris ~ Ellen ~ Paul

The Turf Depot

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Tue, 20 Jun 2006 00:15:00 +0000

Returning to the Turf Depot, here's a different view of it above. To see a bigger photo click on this one.

Here we see it from the opposite end from the last photo. To help us get our bearings here, the photographer would be standing with his back to The 27 Steps. Slightly to the left (out of picture) would be the back of our old flat as seen in another, earlier photo. This picture looks like it was taken in the early morning or else shorly after a delivery of turf, because normally that weighing scale you can see was just inside the door, and so was the pile of turf. While the turf was lying outside like this, people hoped it wouldn't rain because wet turf was nearly impossible to burn. I remember how my parents used to make little piles of wet turf either side of the fireplace in an attempt to get it dry. If they made little piles of turf sods on the hobs either side of a blazing fire I used to sit there staring at the drying sods because they'd scorch and the tiny loose hairy bits used to catch fire and this used to remind me of the Christmas lights downtown. Funny the things that stick in your mind.

As can be seen in the photo that little girl is waiting for her turf to be weighed. She has a small baby walker (we called them go cars) and it was on this little car that she'd have struggled home with her 8 stone sack of turf. Sometimes, if there was a decent man working the scales and you didn't have a sack (a sack was compulsory) he'd tip the scales so that your turf allowance filled whatever mode of transport you happened to have. In this case the little girl has that small baby car which was never designed to carry 8 stones of weight, so as you can imagine baby cars didn't last very long from being used to carry home the turf. I've seen big expensive baby prams (prambulators) being used and the weight of the turf causing the wheels to buckle, and whoever was pushing it would wind up pushing and pulling in turns just to get that precious turf home safely.

But the turf was also a springboard to another money making little job. I've already mentioned that the standard payment for delivering a bag of turf was 1 shilling. Well as you couldn't carry much turf in a baby pram we made box carts so that we could carry more at one time, thereby saving on trips and increasing our earnings. These carts were made of wood and a pair of old pram wheels, or any kind of wheels we could get our hands on. The body of the cart was a simple wooden box, often made up of old orange or apple crates with two shafts for handles. These boxcarts were in great demand and if we could get enough scrap wood and some old wheels and made up some boxcars we could sell them. The going rate was whatever the market would take. On average this was between a half crown (two shillings and sixpence) and 4 shillings. So making boxcars was a good little earner. Of course they didn't carry any guarantee and if the cart happened to collapse while someone was taking home or delivering some bags of turf... tough luck. In that case we, (the manufacturers) either went into hiding for awhile or else we simply legged it and hoped we weren't caught. Ah well, some you win, some you lose. But we were diligent in making these carts so they seldom collapsed.... maintaining our good names as boxcar builders.

But in Summer it was a different story with the boxcars. Then they became chariots and the chariot races around Summerhill, and Gardiner and Sean McDermott Streets were legendary. The race in Ben Hur never even came close to the excitement of these races. A kid would stand between the shafts of the boxcar (the chariot!) and a piece of rope was strung over his shoulders, around his neck and back to someone sitting in the boxcar who was the driver. The driver had one important piece of equipment -- a whip! And that whip was used too!! Though I can't remember it ever really hurting. On race day the chariots would line up. The starter would harangue the drivers to get the carts into a proper line.... no cheating allowed... at least until after the race had started. Then he's signal the off and away we'd go! The ankles of innocent pedestrians were in dire peril while this race was in progress because the drivers threw all caution to the wind in the excitement of the race... and not a few of the cart wheels had spokes sticking out at all angles, so being a pedestrian on a race day was a perilous business. After the off no holds were barred. There weren't any rules! You could trip any kid between the shafts if you could manage to do that. Or if there happened to be a bit of turf or coal, or even a few stones in the body of the boxcar then these made good throwing weapons to be used against other charioteers. There was no prize for winning except the right to brag about how well you done in the race. And you got a lot of mileage out of these bragging sessions, and naturally as each story was told it was gilded slightly until by the time it had been told a few times the race became an epic, and the winning team were heroes held in awe by their pals.

Next time I want to talk a bit about the time a man (a moneylender) made my mother cry and how we, my friends Paddy, Seanie, Jimmy and myself avenged her. And the lane in the photo above was where it happened.

But as I say, that's a story for next time... and coming up too a story about the junction of Parnell Street, Summerhill, Gardiner Street and Middle Gardiner Street... known to the older folk at that time as The Four Corners of Hell.

Drop in again soon.... some good stories coming up.

Marie's memories.

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Thu, 01 Jun 2006 00:05:00 +0000

"Well, let me start by saying I don’t feel very comfortable looking at the back of the flat in Gardiner Street. I don’t know why that is but it just makes me feel a bit sick or something like that. Looking at the front is not too bad why that is I don’t know, maybe because when I look at the front you didn't see as many poor people as in the back.

In the front all types of people walked up and down the street rich and poor but the back seems to have a lot to say for itself.... when you looked out our back window you would see all the people in a queue for the turf. Kids as young as 4 or 5 going for the turf and the old people all waiting to get their turf to get a fire going. I remember one time going there I think it was with me Granny and she had me rushing with her to the turf depot she said if we did not get there soon all the turf would be gone and we would have no fire and we would be cold.

Thinking back it was very depressing place and the people did not look much better and then having to push that pram back with the turf. God it was awful but it made us strong in heart and mind. I remember thinking to myself will it always be like this if so then I would be better off dead and I was only a kid thinking like that. But that was in the winter.... god the winter was bitter cold!

But when the summer came that was great. Ma and Da would take us out somewhere maybe to Sandymount beach. Ma loved that beach she always talked about it I remember one time in the summer Ma, Da and me were walking down Summerhill I think it was in 'Jon's' (shop) Ma got me a paper umbrella and when I came out of the shop I put it up to keep the sun off my head. I thought I was like one of the ladies in the films and as we walked along a big man pushed past us and my umbrella got torn. Well did I cry! I cried my eyes out and the man just kept on walking. Ma was near to tears because I was crying so much, Da said, "Ccome on I will get you something else." I'm still waiting for the something else sure they did not have much money.

But come Sunday we always got that coconut cake for tea it was great when Ma would slice it up and shared it around us all, even the crumbs were lovely. I can still taste it now ah that was the good times when Da was working when he was lucky to get a job.

Now about the marble. I think it was a blue one and Tony and myself were playing at the table with marbles and I said to Tony, "I dare you to swallow that". Of course he said "No" so I made him swallow it! Mam and Da did not notice what I was doing because they where talking and us kids were playing. Little did they know that their little girl was up to mischief but the funny part was to come when I told them Tony swallowed the marble! The next I knew was Da's friend standing in the room with a knife down his belt Tony looked at me and we both thought the man was going to cut open Tony to find the marble, but no Tony was taken off to the hospital we are still waiting for that marble to come out of Tony's belly but that was fun.

I used to make Tony do some bad things. Like we would go over to my Aunt Bridie in Summerhill and she was out of hospital at the time she had TB and she had to take a lot of tablets. When Tony and me seen the tablets we thought they looked nice... we thought they were sweets. But there was one tablet I thought looked the best. Now we were always told not to touch anything in that drawer so to cut a long story short I said to Tony, "You eat one of them pink sweets and if you eat it then I will eat one too." So he did and I waited to see what he thought of it then I ate one and it was nice and nothing happened to us. So every time we went over to Bridie's we had a pink sweet when no one was looking the taste was lovely..yes I was a little devil........ "

Marie.

==============

Well that was a great sharing of memories from Marie. I played no part in helping either Tony or Marie with these memories, I wanted to see what they'd come up with without any prompting from me, and I'm glad I did. I include their memories of Gardiner Street just as they wrote them, all I did was run it through a spell checker. I was laughing as I read how Marie nearly poisoned me poor little brother. She was (and is) a holy terror.

I'm glad Marie introduced us to the Turf Depot. As you can gather from what she says it was a miserable place. Back then, during Winter, men on the dole and old-age pensioners were given a voucher once a week. The voucher entitled you to collect, at your own expense, an 8 stone bag of turf to be used as fuel for your fire. If times were really hard you could sell the voucher for 1 shilling, and there was always someone who would buy it. A shilling would be worth close to 5 Euros now -- I've compared things I could buy back then for a shilling to how much they'd cost now.

I'll have a lot to say about the turf and the depots in a later post. For now I'll just try to explain the picture above. The picture was taken on a snowy day sometime in the late 50's or early 60's. If we looked out of the back window that you saw in an earlier photo, and looked slightly to the left we were looking down on the roof of the depot. The picture was taken from the lane beside our flat in Gardiner Street, looking towards the back of Rutland Street School. If that smallish block of flats weren't there you'd be able to see the school. To the left you can see the backs of the houses along Summerhill, and that slope that you can see is The 27 Steps leading from Summerhill to The Diamond. To the right and slightly out of picture is The Diamond and if you could look to the right you would also see the back of Nannie's street (Sean McDermott Street). The pram was those kids transport for lugging home the 8 stone sack of turf.

Marie also made mention of Jon's. This was a shop on Summerhill. Jon's was one of those shops that seemed to sell everything. You could buy sweets, toys and even some cheap jewellery which was grand as I used to buy my present there for Ma on Mother's Day. Jon's also played a part in my rather short-lived career as a criminal.

But you don't want to hear all that now... enjoy Marie's memories first.

Do drop back... there's a lot of stories, sad and funny yet to be told. This could go on for a very long time, so I hope you dear reader have lots of patience.

Soon. And thanks again Marie.

Introducing.....

noreply@blogger.com (Leonard Family) — Tue, 23 May 2006 23:51:00 +0000

Sean K. Leonard.

Hello my friends. Just taking a wee break from sharing my memories, to share with you a photo taken just hours ago of my new Grandson, Sean.

Sean arrived in this world at 5.17 pm on Sunday 21st May 2006, at the Rotunda Maternity Hospital. Parnell Street. Dublin Ireland.

So in the photo above he's the ripe old age of 1 day and 22 hours.

He weighed in at 6 lbs and 12 ozs.

If he could stand he'd be all of 19 and a half inches tall (in his bare feet)

If you're wondering about the photo. No he isn't about to take his first parachute jump. Neither is he taking his first driving lesson. He's strapped into his car seat on his way home from hospital. This is a hospital rule. You must have an approved car restraint for the baby in order to be allowed to take him/her home by car.

If you haven't got one of these restraints they keep him.

I was tempted!

Well no, not really.

Ellen says he's the best looking Leonard baby since she was born. Well since she was born after me, it's okay for her to say that.

I had to take this little time out just to introduce my wee Grandson. We'll get back to normal service as soon as possible, and as soon as I can drag myself away from Sean.

Soon.... with Marie's memories of Gardiner Street.