When I was eleven or twelve I became an altar boy. Mother made my red and white surplice. The mass was all in Latin and I had to learn the correct responses.
Reminiscence
Pearl’s Murder
As the moth is drawn to a flame, every year at this time I feel an inner compulsion to return to the sad story of the murder of young Pearl Gamble …
Big Clock
It was the early 60s. Many working men still wore cloth caps, like the man passing John Temples in the background.
Derrybeg: Bessie Flashes
Yes, in the early years we walked to school. I vividly remember walking down the
No, it wasn’t lightning. It was Bessie, the Bessbrook tram, heading along the meadows towards the terminus at
Mary Kane’s Class
It just struck me! Mary Kane (Rose Mary Kane) – that’s the same moniker as that famous country singer and celebrity panellist from Newry …. well, Meigh, actually, – Rose Marie … and maybe ‘infamous’ is the word.
Anyway, is she any relation?
Maura Maguire is born
We have recently received the memoirs of Maura Maguire. So delighted are we with this gift that we have determined to share instantly with the readership of Newry Journal. We are confident you will love them too.
‘This account is primarily written for my children and their children, so that they might know of the events that shaped the person who is their mother and grandmother.
………………………………….
My name is Mary Bridget (Maguire) Mallon. I was born on 10 September 1936 in my grandparent’s home on Monaghan Street, Newry.
My parents were Joseph Maguire and Anne Elizabeth (Doherty).
Old School Friends
Meeting occasional visitors at the ‘paper’ train that arrived from
The Turkey Trot
Bingo had become popular in Newry and weekly sessions arranged by local parishes and clubs were a lucrative way to enhance their funds. It was also a welcome social event for many of the residents, and better still if you managed to shout, “CHECK!’ and win a cash prize.
Poem on Memories
I remember the smell from the kitchen,
of bread and semolina buns
cats and kittens asleep by the fire,
and those Sunday visits from the nuns.
And the days we sat in the sunshine
to let our long hair dry,
it seems so short a time ago,
but the years have hurried by.