The Building Site

I grew up on the Rush Road in Skerries in the Holmpatrick Estate. To the front of our house we had the sea and behind the house we had the building site. That’s what we all called it; the ‘Building Site’. We were the lucky ones (the four semi-detached houses that had the building site over our back walls). The rest of the estate was developed out but the four-house gap behind our house remained a permanent feature of our childhood. We had a ready-made playground.

Two of the houses in the building site had brick walls and concrete bases. The other two houses didn’t make it beyond the foundations, leaving ditches and banks which were covered in a layer of weeds and wild-flowers. I remember, at a very young age, sitting on the banks picking daisies, dandelions, buttercups, poppies and these tiny blue and white flowers. There were lots of ladybirds and bees. We made daisy chains of course. We also used to hold the buttercups to our chins and if you saw a yellow reflection that meant you liked butter- just in case we weren’t sure. However, we were a bit wary of the dandelions. Something to do with wetting the bed. The poppies were my favourites though. Especially the closed ones because you could pop open the pod and gently tease out the petals to make a pink poppy. It was a bit creased and battered looking but I loved them – despite feeling a bit guilty. I often wonder where all those flowers are today.

Wildflowers of the 1970s

Nothing went to waste in the building site. We smashed up the old plasterboard and occasionally prised bricks free and sent them crashing down. We used the wood to make ramps for the bikes and bridges between the mounds. We climbed and ran around on top of the walls and played endless games of chasing and hide and seek. The abandoned JCB was our den. 

My little sister Jenny and her friend took the brick throwing to another level. My father had a call to the door about an incident. Denis and Betty McGlougllin lived in one of the houses beside the building site. If you climbed up on the wall of one of the half-built houses you could look into their garden. A large brick had mysteriously landed in through their downstairs toilet window and broken their toilet bowl. Jenny and her buddy had been spotted in the vicinity. They had history- such as the day they broke into Reddy’s house looking for biscuits and were spotted looking out the upstairs bedroom window. And the day they disappeared for hours only to be found in Bob’s Casino trying to shake down money from the games with the cascading coins. They were like a miniature Bonny and Clyde at the ripe age of 5 or 6 years old. I remember the questioning from my parents “Jenny you don’t happen to know anything about a brick that was thrown in Mr McGloughlin’s window?” ‘No”. (She was very loyal to her friend). “Are you sure”? Again, the picture of innocence “No. Don’t know” My parents continued. “The brick that went into the bathroom window and broke the toilet bowl?” She thought about it for a while and then eventually came out with “Oh! That brick!” The game was up. Guilty as charged. Mr McGloughlin was very understanding. He saw the funny side. Of course, now Jenny is a fine upstanding little sister. She got her wild days out of her system very early on. She still makes us all laugh.  

I also remember the day in the building site when I stopped playing. I’m not sure what age I was, maybe eleven or twelve, but I remember the feeling very clearly. I was playing show jumping with my friend. We were horses, jumping over the ditches.  A thought suddenly hit me that what we were doing was very silly.  I tried to continue but I couldn’t. I felt stupid. It was crystal clear to me that there were no horses and the ditches weren’t fences. I sat down and declared I was bored. We both agreed to call an end to the show jumping. That was the day I stopped playing.

When I got older, I heard that the developer went bankrupt. A decent man according to my parents. Building had stopped overnight and the site came to a standstill. Everything was left where it was, including the JCB. It makes me think of an outdoor version of Miss Havisham’s table where everything was frozen in time.

As children we were oblivious to the human story that we trampled on and trashed in our innocence. There was no malice intended. There’s another story yet to be written about the Rush Road in Skerries. Not about childhood innocence unfortunately. I would call it Great Expectations but I think that’s already taken.

The ‘Why’

I started an online “Write your book” course a couple of weeks back. My friend Margot put me on to it. It’s really interesting. Apparently, the big driving force behind writing is knowing your ‘Why’ and once you have that clear in your head everything else flows from that. It makes sense to me. When I think back to the day I was sitting in the kitchen last June, I remember a very clear ‘Why’ coming to me in terms of writing the blog. I have written on and off since then. It was a beautiful sunny day at the end of June. The kitchen was the usual chaos. Everybody was sorting themselves out for lunch around me. Michael had arrived in with the shopping. I was sitting at the top of the table looking out at the view. There was a full tide and the sea was a greenish blue. The islands were lit up by the sun and ready to receive the visitors that would head out in their boats, kayaks, paddle boards etc. Leo was packing his rucksack to head off to Shenick island on the SUP Board. The others were all heading out to meet their friends. The magnetic pull of the harbour was in full force and not just for the kids in the family.

Skerries Harbour

It was one of those Skerries days when everything that was going to happen would be outside, which was a good thing of course with the pandemic. Things had been relaxed since the first lockdown. The teenagers could now gather in groups (socially distant of course!) and all of the kids who should have been in places like America or Canada on their J1s were still in Skerries.  The grass area at the back of the harbour beside the Sea Pole (or ‘Casa’ as it became known) became the go-to place during the day where groups of kids would sit around in circles chatting with each other. A new game of ‘Spike Ball’ was also a big hit and there were mini tournaments taking place. At night they would decamp to the North Beach. The more beers that were had, as the night went on, the less socially distant it became. But they were outside which was enough to keep Covid at bay. Despite the obvious disappointment of not being able to travel, it was very clear they were all having a great Summer.

I needed help with the technological stuff and I was delaying Leo and testing his patience. WordPress was doing my head in. I was doing Leo’s head in. It just wasn’t making sense and all I wanted to do was to get started. I didn’t care about slick design. If I could only upload the odd photo, that would do. Easier said than done, but we got there in the end. Leo headed off down the field with the SUP Board and I battled away with the laptop. No outdoors for me that day. I was like a dog with a bone.

So, before I ever thought of writing, I was given a ‘Why’. (Thanks very much- some bloody ‘Why’!) But joking aside I am oddly grateful to have been given a ‘Why’. At the beginning, this ‘Why’ was very clear.  There were certain things I needed to say. And I did, up to a point. Nobody has tried to silence me yet, but I guess if they did, they would have to identify themselves- which wouldn’t be such a clever move! I still haven’t given up on the old ‘Why’, but it is evolving.  There’s so much more I could say but do I really want to dwell on the past the whole time? These are questions I find myself asking. Shit happens. Maybe time to move on?

Our friendly gnomes

I’m now sitting at the head of the same table but with a very different view, in more ways than one. The seagulls are creating quite the racket outside.  One of Margery’s garden gnomes is grinning in the window at me, which makes me smile. One of the kids has obviously gone to the trouble of putting the gnomes on the windowsills facing in. I suspect the aim is to freak Alice out.

It’s great to be back in the middle of the town. Moving from our home was far from easy but we are in a good place for the moment. This Summer Leo can cross the road with the SUP Board and head off to the islands. The others can walk around the corner to the harbour, ‘Casa’ and the Springboards and (hopefully) hang out with their friends. Since Monday Alice is walking to school. Happy days. No more fights with her younger brother in the car because she’s making him late for school….again.

I am also grateful to the two Foxes who got me thinking. To Margot who is always encouraging all of her friends to be positive and to Anna Fox who is running the online writing course.

And in the meantime I will keep working on the Why…..the Why Not?…..the Why the hell?…..the Why the hell not?….The Why us?……The Why not us?…So, back to the book. It would be an awful shame to waste a ready-made ‘Why’. Hmm….lots to think about.