The Eighth of December as a Child
December 8th, the feast of the Immaculate Conception, a day off school and work, thanks to the Catholic Church. No memories of Mass, only memories of childhood excitement. Calls of “Are you ready to go?” still echo in my ears.
Dressed warmly in comfy shoes, Dad took my hand as I made the journey with my siblings to catch the bus. It was ‘Culchie Day’ in Dublin. The bus stop, a two and a half miles’ walk, a long journey for little legs, but there were no complaints. ‘Day out in the Big Smoke, two adults and nine children.’ When we reached the Big City, we thanked Paddy the driver.
We stood on the footpath, our mouths open in awe. Not a blade of grass in sight. Giants of buildings everywhere. Hands held and warnings given to stay together and keep in each other’s sight. We were mesmerised; shops lined both sides of the street, women with prams without babies; fruit, sweets, wrapping paper and toys sat on breadboards. Their voices cried out in a lilting tone,
‘Get you wrapping paper, five for 20.’ ‘Get the last of your Cheeky Charlies.’
Moore Street, stalls laden with vegetables, fruit, flowers and Christmas wreaths. The backdrop buildings housed many butchers with dead carcasses in their windows.
On Henry Street, we visited Arnotts and Roches Stores, their window displays looking like the North Pole. Shops were full of twinkling lights, smells that itched my little nostrils and people everywhere. Where did they live? There wasn’t a house or animal in sight. Oh dear, the carcasses!
We went to a little café and had sausages, chips, bread and butter and a glass of milk. Mam and Dad had tea. Mam asked for an extra cup; she filled the cup with tea, wrapped her sausages and some chips in a napkin and went outside. She gave them to a begging man outside. When we were leaving, he muttered, ‘God Bless you.’
At Upper Liffey Street, we children each got a one-pound note to spend in Hector Greys - this Emporium of Wonder was every child’s dream. I bought playing cards, marbles and many other things. Dad collected our purchases to keep them safe. The dark closed in and the street came alive with dancing twinkling lights, it was as if the skies had come down to visit us on earth and all the stars had put coloured clothes on.
I stood back and held Dad’s hand a little tighter; I was afraid I would be sucked in by its magic and never get home again, but with cold cheeks I still smiled and relished in its wonder.
O’Connell Street, Cleary’s window, our eyes popped with delight at the Christmas displays moving and dancing behind the glass. The biggest clock I’d ever seen hung over our heads.
In Talbot Street, Mam dashed into Guiney’s to get new lace for our windows.
Last stop, Store Street and Busáras. Buses almost kissed the open doors surrounding the back and side of the building. Dad called ‘Door 5, Paddy’s waiting.’ Five minutes later the bus door closed, the inside lights dimmed and it began its journey home.
I didn’t notice when it left the city behind, I was fast asleep cuddled into Dad. He woke me as we reached our stop. We thanked Paddy and wished him a safe journey and began our weary trip home.
Christmas had just begun.