Poached Eggs ‘Romneya Coulteri’ from Anne...

I grew up in the 1950s when toys were few, nothing was instant and the word ‘bored’ got a clout from Mammy. We had the freedom to meet up on the road and make our own entertainment. Each Summer I was the one who initiated ‘The Concert’ an annual event that took place in someone’s garage. Whether the other kids wanted to or not I gave no choice - everyone had to perform, make the costumes, put up the stage or operate the tartan rug curtains. And of course we had to have ‘the announcer’. The kids always went along with me because no-one had a better idea and it beat being made to collect the Milkman’s horse’s manure that all the mothers wanted for their roses…. “Can’t do it Ma ‘cos I have to rehearse ‘The Concert’”.

Crepe paper was bought from the pocket money I’d been saving for weeks. Lovely bales of green, red, white and yellow. The green was for Irish dancing skirts, the red for the capes and the white for the fairies. Oh, how I loved being a fairy with the white standy-out tu-tu. (I never wanted to learn Irish dancing, my secret dream – another of them – was to be a ballet dancer – but my mother wouldn’t pay for the lessons). The tu-tu never quite stood out as I imagined, but from where I was coming from it was just gorgeous. And to top it all didn’t I have a lovely bright yellow crepe-paper cap. Beautiful I was, just beautiful for about two minutes until one of the little brats grabbed hold of the tartan rug curtains and my dream came crashing down. The curtains operated on a badly rigged pulley system which we’d hung across the garage ceiling. As the contraption collapsed he kept pulling on the rugs and in my efforts to regain control of the situation became wrapped in the bundle and my lovely white crepe tu tu was torn in shreds. The resulting language from me was anything but fairylike.

Fifty years later, after a career making television programmes, I took early retirement and got the ‘lump sum’. Everyone else who left RTE at the same time either paid off their mortgage, bought a new car or went on the holiday of their dreams. Me? Well, I had my garden landscaped and the first shrub I bought was Romneya Coulteri – the poached egg plant to some, but to me it will always be that fairy in the white crepe paper tu-tu with the yellow cap.


ANNE McL