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True lives -
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True Lives
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True Lives
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Kathleen's
Story
"My name is Kathleen. I left Ireland in Sept/Oct 1949 at
the age of seventeen and a half to take up nursing in a
hospital in Manchester. I left behind my father, mother, 5
brothers and 4 sisters. We had a farm, I was the eldest in
the family so I made the first move to lead the path and
help the rest of the family who all came to Manchester in
later years except one brother who stayed on the farm.
I settled in Manchester, married and reared two children.
I made regular visits home and wrote home every week never
an empty letter just what I could afford. My parents gave me
a good education which helped me tremendously throughout my
working life in England. I worked hard-mostly nursing
positions. I had a great relationship with the Irish
community, always mixed with dances, socials, ceili dancing,
house gatherings, loads of Irish friends. Of late I trained
and worked in a credit union and ran a ladies group for 12
years.
I returned home and settled in sheltered housing in the
South East two years ago. I came home because of the fear,
crime rate, constantly looking over my shoulder, bolting
doors, alarms, could not go out at night, watching my
handbag all the time. I underline fear, but that has now
left me since returning to live in Ireland. Thank you."
Hammersmith
Broadway
I've hung 'round this Broadway a
long long time
And watched all the comings and goings
I've drank in the Swan and leant on the rails
And thought about life and hereafter
But the noise and the dirt are getting me down
The motors are gunning and roaring around
The peace in my mind is slipping away
I'm getting too tired for this ongoing fray.
There once was a time when it all seemed so bright
There was movement and laughter and things were all
right
The jobs have now gone and the people have split
I'm left on my own in this dark smelling
The pubs are now quiet and the music is gone
The craic is a memory so long passed along
It's a huge modern complex and fast food outlet
Its no answer to that yearning deep down in my breast
The lights have turned red that used to be green
The people walk fast afraid to be seen
There's no moving on, I'm stuck in this grind
Far away from that dream that used to be
mine
Liam
Purcell
John's
Story
"I will tell you about myself. I am from Arranmore
Island. Left there when I was 17 to go to Scotland to work
at the potatoes for two years. Then I got fed up with that
life, it was terrible. I used to go on holiday to Arranmore
Island every year but sadly they are all gone now God rest
their souls. I do miss them, now I go over to see the graves
in summer. I speak the Irish, it was my first language. I
just want a one bedroom house with my own door and my health
is good thank God. Kind regards."
Anthony's
Story
"I would like to return to Ireland. I had to go to
Scotland at the age of 12 as work was not there. My mother
& father are buried there, and I am getting older. If
you could fix me up with a place to live at home it would be
fine as I would be near my family roots."
Rita left Dublin,
for London, at 14 years of age in 1963
I was only 14 when I went to London so added a couple of
years onto my age so I could get work. I had jobs in a
number of small factories around Islington. I was glad to be
away from a home that was a crowded, damp, cold, derelict
slum. Initially I lived in a hostel but moved out after I
got a job and saved up a deposit. Getting a room to myself
was like heaven and it wasn't that expensive either. I felt
like a wealthy woman with my good wages, new clothes and a
tidy little place to live. I met my future husband at the
Buffalo in Camden Town and we got married a year after
meeting. It wasn't a happy union.
He drank heavily and was often abusive towards me. He had
been a labourer when I met him but he wasn't a good worker
and would often be left behind at the pick up. Then he'd
spend the day (until opening time) under my feet when I had
two children to look after. With another two children around
me and one more on the way we got a council flat in
Islington. I was delighted because there was room for the
kids to play out on the walkway outside the flat. In my
marriage things were going from bad to worse. I ended up in
hospital more times than enough and when I look back on it I
don't know how I was able to live like I did for so long.
Eventually I got support from a women's refuge centre that
had set up in Chiswick (the other side of London).
They helped me (and my eight children) to get away from
the violence then helped me to get a barring order against
him so that I could move back into the flat. When he kept
breaking the order and beating me up the Chiswich centre
helped me to have him jailed.
Then the council re-housed us in Barking, east London,
where he would never find us, and our lives improved no end.
I began to take a pride in myself again and, with him not
getting his hands on the money, I was able to visit my
family in Ireland and bring the children with me. We began
going home every year and our wholes lives centred round
these holidays. All these years later I have three children
(a son and two daughters) living in Dublin. They are married
and have families of their own and I am dying to get moved
there so I can be near to them.
Sarah left
Tipperary in 1952 to settle in London
I was on my way to sign the tenancy agreement for the new
home in Ireland. I had been so excited to be going back, but
over the past couple of days I started to feel the same fear
that I had when I was 14, in 1952, and the loss I felt then
has never left me. I know I will never get a chance like
this again but wherever I am I will hold the same wonderful
memories of days gone by that can never be relived except in
my mind. In 1952, the 6th June, when I saw Ireland fading
into the distance, from the deck of the ship, the
Innishfallon, I was heartbroken. I am too frightened now to
go through the same upheaval again and this time youth and a
lot of future is something I no longer have. I've had my
day. I hope the person who will get the lovely home I was
going to have will not be a coward like me and have a long
and happy life, second time around.
Michael left
Mayo in 1961 at 17 years of age to join his brother in San
Francisco
I left Ireland when I was seventeen. My brother, Paddy,
was in San Francisco and sponsored me to come out.
I was amazed at everything when I first arrived and
thought it was the finest place on earth. I worked in a
warehouse during the day and in a bar at night. After the
first novelty wore off I became so homesick that my brother
paid for me to go home on a holiday at the end of my first
year. I am not ashamed to say that I cried when it was time
to go back to America after a month at home. My father was
sick (he died later that year) and I was heartbroken at the
thought that if I went back to San Francisco I would never
see him or my mother again.
There was no choice for people like me in those days. I'd
never have got a job that would have allowed me to stay in
Ireland and the family desperately needed the dollars that
myself and Paddy could send back. We were a big family
(thirteen children) and as the second oldest I had
responsibilities I could not shirk so, sorrowful as I was,
there was no alternative but to make the journey back to the
States.
It was five years before I was able to make the next trip
home because after sending money home my savings were taken
with helping to bring my two younger brothers to San
Francisco and then, because paddy had got married and
started a family, it fell to me to bring out another brother
and two sisters. Over a period of ten years all but one of
my brothers and sisters came out to San Francisco although
many of them moved on to other parts of America later. After
I had done my duty to them I was able to go home every year
and was in Mayo when my mother died in 2001. The
homesickness never left me and when one of my brothers
returned to Ireland with Safe-Home I decided to apply
myself.
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