This is Evelyn's communion photo taken in Marlborough Street in what must have been around 1949. We were living in the center of Dublin not far from the Royal Theatre at the time. Mam and Dad, plus Terry, Phyllis and I lived there for about 5 years. I don't know if anyone else remembers the place apart from Mam and Dad and myself. Terry was very young but I was wandering around the place and remember it very well. I don't remember this day but I remember the general outlay of the place. It was a good thing for us to move to Crumlin because the center of the City was no place for young children to grow up and it was very hard on Mam. She remembers it very well and she was glad to get out of there. We moved from there to Windmill Park and I remember going out the front door of the new house in Windmill Park and coming in the back door of the same house. I couldn't believe it.
This is the way I remember our cousins from those years . We would see them from time to time. They were always so pretty these girls. Cecil , who is in the picture below, was their father and always had a warm smile and a great fresh air aura about him. He was one of our favorite uncles.
As far as I know he took these photos. They were sent by Dor who found them among a treasure trove of negatives.
9 comments:
wonderful photos..Mam was telling me about these today, she was saying about Marlborough St, about the cottage, times were indeed hard..But these three lovely girls look gorgeous..
Brilliant photos...
I don't remember Marlborough st, although it did leave it's mark on me, a scar on my chin, i was only two and seven months old when we moved to Crumlin but i know all about living there cause mam talks about it a lot and the hard times she had there, she was only in her late 20s when she moved from there and already her hair turning gray...although that could of been me turning her hair gray!!!
Great photo of three very pretty little girls....lovely.
Here is a little story about Marlborough St that I remember.
I was locked outside the big front door and in the middle of a pedestrian rush along Marlborough Street. It must have been the noon rush for the workers in the city. I remember very well the sound of hard shoe leather on the pavement and everyone seeming to be in a great hurry.
The door was one of those big Dublin doors with the brass knockers three quarters of the way up. Only an adult could reach it. This meant that I couldn’t reach it of course. I remember being very frightened and wondered if I would ever see Mam again. She was gone along with everything else behind this big, dark green door with the brass knocker that was out of reach.
I went into a fit of crying that only very young children are capable of. Sobs, hiccups, sniffles and panic. I tried to get the attention of the people passing by; I didn’t have to try very hard because I was in convulsions. A lot of them stopped and I tried to tell them to knock on the door but I couldn’t because I couldn’t catch my breath. I kept pointing to the knocker.
Some of them gave me pennies and kind words and some of them patted me on the head but none of them knocked on the door. The more they patted me on the head or gave me pennies the worse my crying got. They couldn’t understand me and they were all in such a hurry.
I don’t really know how I got back inside. I think one of the neighbors recognized me and knocked on the door.
Strange that I should remember so many details of this little episode after to many years and given that I was only about three at the time. I think it was so traumatic that the whole thing got etched into my brain.
I still remember all the details very clearly, from the shoes rushing by to the overcoats, to the handbags to the nylons the women were wearing. Very strange indeed.
I also have a big scar where that same door nearly took the top of my finger off. Mam tells this story very well. The scar is there to this day
April 10, 2010 1:52 AM
I am very surprised that I don't remember this visit by the girls. We never saw enough of them when we were younger. We seemed to live such a distance from each other. This meant that every visit from them was a treat. That is why I am surprised I don't remember this one. Maybe I was outside whinging.
The scar on my chin is worse then the scar on you finger.....
The scar on my finger is 18 inches long and very deep.
So is mine.......Haha
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