Come ‘ere I’ve got an Idea: An Irish Tale

By Rowland McGabhann

This is a heartwarming and comical story set in post-war Dublin.

It follows the trials and tribulations of a family from humble background. The father has illusions of grandeur, which results in them living far beyond their means. This is not helped by his habit of stopping off at the pub almost every night. The schemes that ensue in order to try and achieve this lifestyle lead to hilarious events.

The author uses his own experiences to depict a true example of how Irish families of that era used whatever means possible, be it humour and sometimes stretching of the rules, to cope with the hardship of the times.

The story centres on the youngest of the three brothers and includes many of the colourful characters that went into making Ireland the unique country it was at that time.

The story follows the family’s journey from the childhood of the boys through to their adulthood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DoctorZed Publishing
• Release date: Jun 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9780645249743

Rowland McGabhann

Rowland McGabhann is an ex-pat Irishman living the life of Riley in Adelaide, Australia. He is the author of the bestselling book, Releasing the Beast Within: A Guide to Mental Toughness. I’ve Got a Plan For That! is the next installment following the adventures of the Savage Brothers that began in Come 'ere I've got an Idea.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

DUBLIN circa 2000

The Templeogue Inn. or the Morgue as it was more commonly known, was my destination, it is a pub on the outskirts of the city on the Southside

I believe it got that nickname in times gone by. History tells us that they used to store the dead that were transported down to the River Liffey; later to be collected and taken to the actual morgue in Dublin for collection by their loved ones One would hope!

Anyway that was to be the meeting place. Des (my younger brother) had rung me that morning, ‘Let’s have a drink, I’ve got a bit of an idea,’ he had said.

That was enough to get me worried, because whenever Des had one of his ideas, it usually resulted in trouble, but I reluctantly agreed as things had been not been going too well for me of late anyway.

I sat on the bus on that dark damp Friday evening, making my way out of town to meet him. As we crawled through the rush hour traffic I found myself looking through the window with that sort of fixed stare you have when you are deep in thought, and I began to think about the impending meeting with my brother as my thoughts wandered back to where it all started.

Come ’ere – I’ve Got an Idea!

1

DUBLIN circa 1960

‘Charlie’ roared my mother from the kitchen, ‘get you and your brother down here right now’!

She had to be talking about Des as Vincent, the favoured son, was never in trouble.

My name is Charlie ‘Chas’ Savage after my father, I am one of three brothers. I am the oldest by just over a year; Vincent came second, followed by Desmond a year and six months later.

We came from what I suppose you would call a lower class background, although on the surface, thanks to where we resided someone could get a different impression!

We lived in a three-storey Victorian terraced house of the upstairs-downstairs era. In the kitchen downstairs, were the remains of the bells that were used to summon the servants to the rooms upstairs; relics of a time long past. We were renting the place, because in the late forties early fifties there was an abundance of such properties available. After Ireland had gained its independence from the British the Gentry vanished back to England, leaving their stately homes. The country was struggling to find its feet and it was impossible to find anybody who could afford to buy them. In fact they were lucky to find someone who could even afford to pay the rent. In the case of our Dad this was a task in itself.

I collected Des and we headed for the kitchen to find out what trouble we were in. As soon as we arrived she started. ‘That woman upstairs is driving me mad, she says you pair are at the light bulbs again’.

‘But’ I started. ‘No buts, I know you have been tormenting her, and it has to stop before I lose my mind, now get out of here and don’t come back till tea time’! I grabbed Des and made a bolt for the door.

You see, our dad, Charlie, had delusions of grandeur. The problem was that his wage as a sheet metal worker was not sufficient to finance his expectations. His other problem was that he was afraid of any kind of risk: not good qualities for someone who usually bit off more than he could chew.

Our grandmother on our mother’s side, Sally, was a strong individual who always tried to put her family in the position she believed they deserved. Without her efforts, I am sure, if it had been left to our da, we would have been living in a council home, so when ma and da got married it was Sally who found the house for them. So I guess we were middle class by false pretences.

Here we were, living in this grand house in Upper Rathmines Road, in the days when this was still a good area, where mainly professional people lived. It was not the place you would expect to find the family of a sheet metal worker.

Mum, whose name was Helen, did her best to make ends meet, which was nigh impossible on the wages our da brought home, considering he had to stop off at the local every night to get a quick drink which frequently lasted until closing time. She had decided, in order to make ends meet, she would have to take in a lodger.

Da went berserk when he heard this. He was afraid his mates would think he wasn’t making enough, which was true. Ma was quick to point out that the only other option was for her to work and as she wasn’t exactly a brain surgeon, it meant she would have to take a cleaning job or, in the Irish vernacular, become a ‘scrubber’.

That was unthinkable to da. Not that he was thinking of mum. Like any full-blown chauvinist male, he was afraid how he would look to his friends.

Our da had to be the life and soul of the party. He could sing like a bird, play the piano and charm the birds off the trees all at the same time; then he would arrive home full of drink, blaming everyone and everything for his misfortune. When he was in this condition he became the ‘Antichrist’. but ma was having none of it!

So we took in the lodger.

2

Her name was Miss Hartigan. We hated her from the first moment we set eyes on her, because, to start with, she was invading our private territory, but also because she always carried a Bible around with her.

Thanks to our da we had developed a deep mistrust of anything to do with the church, especially the priests. He resented anybody in a position of power and he reckoned that the priests were more powerful than even the police and could get away with anything; a position that was proved justifiable in later years according to the altar boys. Anyway, that’s another story.

From the time she arrived, she started to impose her little rules. For instance, when she would come home from work — she worked at the corner shop and came home about six o’clock — she would insist that we should not play on the first landing. Her reason was that it was far too close to her room and also to the bathroom and toilet, which she considered was her turf: so by insisting on this she was effectively cutting off our main area of play.

The layout of the house was such that when you came in the front door you had to your left the two main rooms, and in front were the steps leading down to the kitchen and the old servants’ quarters. To the right were the main stairs leading to the first landing, which had the most magnificent banisters. From the first landing to the top floor, you took a sharp right up the next flight of stairs to the last three bedrooms.

The problem was that as soon as we got home from school, if it was raining outside, which was almost all the time, we would head for the top of the house. Our main source of pleasure was there. We would mount the banisters and slide down around the corner into the long straight and arrive in the hall at maximum velocity, that’s if you managed to negotiate the bend midway down. Des and I had it down to a fine art. Vin, after falling off on numerous occasions, decided it was a load of bollocks.

The hag, as we were now calling her, had her room directly at the top of the first flight of stairs. Des and I careering down the banisters in front of her little domain was far too disturbing for her, she informed ma. So to avoid trouble she had declared the first landing off limits. To us this was unthinkable as it was our playground, and we decided we had to get it back.

It was da who gave us the idea. He hated her almost as much as we did, because every time they met she would stick her nose in the air and ignore him just as if he was a bad smell. He reckoned that if she could have had her way she would surely have been a nun. He said she carried that Bible around with her as if her life depended on it, so there had to be a reason why she wasn’t a nun.

When he was drunk, and didn’t think we were in earshot, he would come up with all kinds of ideas to ma. He figured that maybe she failed the height test. But she was easily six feet tall. Then he would say that it was because she came from some part of the country, Carlow, I think. Then he came up with the idea that she couldn’t get the genuflection part of it down pat, or maybe she simply wasn’t doing the right things for the priests. When ma questioned da on this he pointed out that as far as he could see, men just did not feature in her life, and he reckoned the epitaph on her gravestone should read ‘returned unopened’. We hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. Whatever her reason for carrying the Bible, I started to get a glimmer of an idea how we could use her fear of God and the devil to get one over on her.

Our house was run on a shoestring and lacked a lot of the niceties of life such as hot water and electric lights that worked. We had light fittings in every room, but there was a chronic lack of light bulbs: this was what ma was talking about. Whenever we wanted to read in bed we would pinch the bulb from either the landing or toilet and was with this in mind I started to concoct my plan.

I quickly realized we had some problems.

Ma was very aware that the hag was on our hate list and had a fair idea we were up to something, so even if we succeeded we would have to suffer her wrath. So our first problem was how we could get away with it: I got the answer a couple of days later

‘Come in here,’ she said, ushering us into the kitchen. ‘Sit down over there,’ pointing to some chairs in the corner. ‘Now I know you lot are up to something with Miss Hartigan and if you do anything to upset that woman, I’ll skin you alive,’ she whispered. We looked at her with pretend shock. In Vin’s case it was pure shock because he had no idea what was going on.

‘I didn’t do anything,’ whimpered Vin.

That was a mistake because ma immediately sprung on him.

‘You are always taking the bulbs from the landing,’ she snapped.

Vin started to plead with her. ‘But ma, honest, I only take them to study,’ he pleaded.

We just sat there and let him hang himself.

‘Well, if anything happens to upset her you’ll be sorry,’ replied ma, glaring at us, and especially at Vincent. ‘Now get out of here and stay out of trouble, she snapped, as she pushed us outside.

Vin immediately rounded on us. ‘What are you two up to?’ he yelled. ‘You’ll get me into trouble! If you do anything, I’ll tell ma,’ he threatened.

That was a big mistake on his part, because he had just solved our first problem. I knew full well, that as soon as my plan upset poor Miss Hartigan, the shit would hit the fan, and thanks to Vin putting himself on the spot, we had a patsy.

I looked Vin straight in the eye, and said, as we stood grinning at him, ‘Well, the way I see it, no matter what happens you’re in the shit, so my advice is to keep your mouth shut and hope nothing happens.’

He went white in the face, as he realised he was facing potential trouble..

‘Fuck you pair of bastards! I hope you get caught,’ he yelled over his shoulder as he ran off into the distance.

‘Well, I hope for your sake we don’t,’ I yelled after him.

We planned it very carefully and by this time we had the auld girl’s movements down pat.

She was a creature of habit: when she got home from work each evening she would head straight upstairs and into her room, deposit her bag and coat, and exactly fifteen minutes to the dot later she would come out, lock the door and head downstairs.

Part of the arrangement she had with ma was that she would get an evening meal. ‘Just something light will do,’ ma would mimic her, because the meal that she put away every evening would have put a good-sized horse to shame.

She always ate in the front room of the house, which was off limits to all of us including da. One of us would be sent up with the dinner as soon as it was ready. This was another source of great disharmony, and under normal circumstances would have caused all hell to break out, but in order to get back into ma’s good books Vin had been offering of late, which was making ma even more suspicious. After she finished her meal she would head back upstairs into her room where she remained normally for about thirty minutes. Then she emerged in her nightclothes and went straight to the toilet, which was beside the bathroom.

Among her many complaints was the fact that there was never a light working on the landing. She would complain that she had to grope her way to the toilet to put the light on in there. That light wasn’t much help anyway, as ma used the smallest bulb she could get. Another gripe she had was that the toilet paper we used was cut up pieces of old newspaper. We couldn’t see why this was a problem. That’s all we’d ever used.

Da would burst out laughing. ‘She must have a soft arse,’ he would say. I suspect that if he’d had his way he would have left sandpaper for her.

3

Our plan was worked out based on the fact that she had a loathing of the dark and a fear of the devil, we decided it was time she had a visit from him!

The coming Friday would be the day for the visitation. Our plan was for to get her when she made her last visit to the toilet for the night.

We picked that day because da would not be home on that night, and on Fridays ma went around to the local to join him for a drink. It wasn’t perfect but if we waited until ma went out it would be too late at night, as our victim would have gone to bed. So we decided that when ma was busy upstairs getting herself ready it would leave the coast clear enough for us to put our plan into action.

Our next problem was what to do with Vin, because for sure, if he got wind of our little scheme he would rat us out. Des came up with the solution .

You see, Vin fancied this little girl who lived over our back wall and he was always slipping out to play with her. So Des collared Vin on that afternoon. ‘Vin, Betty was looking for you, she said if you were free you could call over after tea.’

Vin’s eyes lit up. ‘Sure, thanks,’ he yelled as he rushed to get his homework done before his date. It’s no wonder that he was successful in later life. He never let anything come between him and his studies.

It was decided that Des would be the devil because he was the biggest and would fill out the old black coat of da’s that we planned to use, but most of all, Des could be the scariest by far. We had both tried scary walks while we were in training for the night and Des had won hands down. So the stage was set!

That night, as soon as she had finished her dinner and gone upstairs, we put our plan in motion, shooting upstairs to our room to get Des dressed up as the devil. This was achieved by first blacking his face with boot polish, then putting on da’s old black coat. I came up with the idea of pushing a pillow up his back under the coat because this made him look like the hunchback of Notre Dame. A black cap and some old gloves put the finishing touches to the disguise. He would have frightened the devil himself. In the dark all you could see was this shadowy figure, and when he looked at you his eyes shone like two diamonds, and his smile showed teeth like stark white fangs. We were ready!

We waited in the dark in our room until we heard ma go into her room to get ready to prepare herself for the evening. Once she started it always took at least an hour. That’s when we made a dash down to the first landing. Des ducked into the toilet as I shot into the bathroom to keep lookout. The plan was that as soon as I heard her come out of her room I was to give a rap on the wall and that was Des’ cue to spring into action.

It seemed an eternity before I heard the sounds of our victim making her way towards the trap. I heard her door open and close behind her. You could hear her groping her way to the toilet in the dark, muttering away to herself about the lack of light. I gave a sharp rap on the wall, and then peeked through the door to watch what was happening.

In our wildest dreams we couldn’t have imagined what was to happen next as she approached the toilet. Des sprang out of the darkness in a sort of a lope a bit like an ape, making a sort of a growling noise. All she could see was a hunched shape with flashing eyes and teeth. For just a split second she stood transfixed to the ground, then threw her arms in the air. The sound that came out of her is something I will never forget! She let out a sort of a low moaning wail that got louder and louder as she backed away from Des heading for the stairs. Her dressing-gown was agape exposing her old-fashioned bloomers.

Des’ reaction was something to behold. A look of horror crossed his face as he saw the extreme reaction he was getting. He wanted to frighten her not kill her.

‘It’s me, it’s me,’ he yelled as he tried to calm her; the result was the exact opposite.

‘God forgive me,’ she wailed as she backed closer to the edge of the stairs. In his excitement Des was flailing his arms around in futile attempts to calm her. This was only making matters worse.

‘Look, look it’s me,’ he yelled as he pulled off his cap, but at this stage it would not have mattered if he stripped altogether. Terror had taken over.

With that she backed off the top of the stairs. There were twenty-six stairs and we reckon she bounced off every one of them. We looked on in horror as she hit the last one and just lay there. We stood in total shock staring down in the dimness at the still form of Miss Hartigan, fearing the worst!.

4

By now ma had heard all the screaming and was calling out to find out what was wrong.

‘Quick down the kitchen,’ I urged, as I grabbed Des who was in shock by this stage and ran down the stairs, stepping over the still form of our victim.

‘Get out of that outfit quick or we’re dead,’ I whispered to Des as I ripped off the coat and pillow and quickly disposed of them in a back room.. ‘Wash that black off, while I keep watch,’ I ordered.

I stood at the kitchen door while Des was busy scrubbing the skin off his face. By now ma had made it to the top of the stairs and was looking down in horror at the still form at the foot of the stairs.

‘Help, help,’ I could hear her calling. I peeked out the door to see her hurry down the stairs and hunch over her inert lodger.

‘Hurry up, Des,’ I implored, as he struggled to get the last of the boot polish off his hands and face.

By this stage ma was in a panic and started to yell for us.

‘Boys get in here quick.’

We rushed in from the kitchen and, like all good child actors, looked at ma in fake horror.

‘What happened?’ we chorused.

She looked at us with suspicion.

‘Do you know anything about this?’ she challenged.

‘No, what happened to her’ ? I asked, afraid to look her in the eye.

With a glare she ordered Des to run next door and tell them there had been an accident and to call an ambulance, as we were the only house on the street without a phone.

‘Quickly,’ she yelled.

Des was away like a hare, glad to be gone from the scene of the crime. I stood there in stunned silence not sure what would happen next. With that the hag started to moan and shake her head from side to side.

‘Quick, get some water,’ ordered ma.

This was my excuse to escape the worsening situation . I shot off to get the water.

As I hurried back I could see ma helping her precious lodger into a sitting position. She was rocking from side to side and I could hear that strange wailing sort of sound, like a wild animal stuck in a trap. I handed the water to ma, then quickly hid behind her, afraid that the auld biddy might look at me and start accusing me, but as I peered over my ma’s shoulder I saw I had nothing to worry about in that respect. Miss Hartigan’s head was hanging back and her eyes were rolled so far back you could only see the whites. At that moment I was sure she was only seconds away from death. To tell the truth I was wishing she would actually pop off, because as far as I could see that was the only way we were going to save our skins.

She continued to wail louder and louder, then started to shake uncontrollably. My mother turned, glaring at me as she tried to control her deranged lodger.

‘What the hell happened? You must have heard something,’? she insisted, as she tried to find somewhere to lay the blame.

‘I’ve no idea,’ I pleaded. ‘We were playing out in the back, and heard you screaming for us.’

‘I never scream,’ screamed ma. She hated to be accused of screaming.

As if on cue Des arrived back gasping for breath.

‘The ambulance is coming,’ he panted.

‘About time,’ said ma, as Des hopped behind her joining me.

With that our world came to an end! Suddenly everything went silent, as Miss Hartigan sat bolt upright, opened her eyes and mouth and stared straight at us with not a sound or movement coming out of her. We just stared straight back, ma in shock, Des and me in terror of what she was about to say. We stayed locked in that position for what seemed like an eternity, transfixed by this weird, white-faced creature in front of us.

What a sight! Her hair was dangling around her face with an odd curler still in place. Under normal circumstances she was fond of a pound or two of make-up on her face but because of her encounter with Des she hadn’t made it to the bathroom, with the result that it was now smeared all over her face. Normally she wasn’t the best looking thing in the world, but at this moment, if she had happened to meet the devil she wouldn’t have had a thing to worry about, he would have gone straight back to hell, or wherever he came from.

Just when it looked as if she had gone into some kind of trance, there came, as if from the very bottom of her lungs, this sort of low moan, which got louder as her head fell back.

‘I’m damned! I’m damned!’ she wailed. ‘The devil’s come for me. Oh, God forgive me, please, please,’ she begged.

Des and I looked at each other in shock. She obviously thought that the devil had really come for her. God knows what she had done in her early life but my guess is that she thought it was enough to incur the wrath of God.

Ma looked at us.

‘What the hell is she talking about? The fall must have affected her head,’ she said.

We looked at her with innocent expressions.

‘Maybe she has gone mad,’ we suggested.

‘Oh, shut up and don’t be foolish,’ she snapped, as she turned her attention back to the wailing banshee.

We were glad to shut up, as we grinned at each other thinking that we might get away with this yet. Ma was doing everything in her power to calm the old hag down, but the more she tried, the worse she got.

‘I’m going to burn in hell,’ she screamed. ‘He’s coming for me. Oh God! Oh God!’ she went on and on.

By this stage ma was starting to lose her rag.

‘Who the hell is coming for you?’ she asked as she started to shake her in frustration.

‘The devil,’ she moaned. ‘I saw him tonight. He was waiting on the landing. He was waiting to take me away!’

Suddenly she clutched at ma and with staring eyes pleaded, ‘Get the priest. Please, get the priest.’

‘OK, OK,’ Ma yelled into her ear, trying to calm her down.

At that moment, who should arrive back as if by divine intervention, but Vin, with an angry face, probably because Betty was not to be found. He stopped dead in his tracks as he took in the scene before him.

He was just about to open his mouth to ask what was going on when ma shouted at him, ‘Get the priest.’

‘But, but,’ stammered Vin in shock, having no idea what was going on.

‘No buts out of you, just get the priest. Tell him it’s an emergency,’ she screamed as she lost her cool.

Vin just turned on the spot and took off in search of the priest.

For what seemed like an eternity, in fact it was more like thirty minutes, we looked on in fascination as ma tried to force water into the mouth of poor Miss Hartigan. But as fast as she poured it in, the old girl bubbled and foamed it out as she gargled out her words of anguish.

As if on cue, who should arrive together but the ambulance and Vin with the priest in tow.

The ambulance man and the priest came in the front door and stopped in their tracks when they saw ma holding the howling woman in her arms. They paused for a moment and then glanced at each other before rushing towards the stricken Miss Hartigan. The medico was a bit younger and got there first. Then just like a scene from ‘The Exorcist’, the head of our shocked lodger seemed to swivel around and only stopped when her glazed eyes caught sight of the priest. With a forearm smash that would have put any wrestler to shame she flattened the poor medico, fixing her attention on the man of God.

She held out her ham-like arms, while at the same time imploring, ‘Save me! Save me! The devil’s come for me,’ she pleaded with the priest, who she must have believed was her only hope for salvation. The priest was in total shock at the spectacle in front of him and looked at ma with a quizzical look on his face.

‘Could you please tell me what is going on?’ he asked.

‘She thinks she saw the devil,’ replied ma.

The priest, up to now, was usually only called out if there was someone dying or he had to go and give confession to some old codger who couldn’t make it to the church. Visits from the devil and exorcism were a bit out of his league.

‘What do you think I should do?’ queried the poor priest, not having a clue how to deal with the situation.

‘Humour her,’ whispered Ma. ‘What’? he spurred. Ma grabbed him by the sleeve. pulling him closer. ‘Just humour her’! she snarled .

‘Ok,’ he nodded in reply, recapturing his arm. as he turned his attentions to Miss Hartigan. ‘How can I help you my child?’ he asked our lodger. This must be a stock phrase in the priest business.

She looked up at him with an imploring look.

‘What’s your name, Father?’

‘Father O’Brien," he replied. ‘Now, what happened?’ he asked.

She proceeded to give a garbled version of what had happened. When she came to the part describing the apparition she saw, Des and I shrank down behind ma, sure that she would recognise our hand in it. We hadn’t a thing to worry about. The creature she described was so awesome and evil that it could never have been considered the work of two kids.

As she came to the end of her story she again grabbed poor Father O’Brien.

‘Drive him out, Father! Exorcise him,’ she commanded.

The priest looked at ma in desperation, not having an idea what to do. Quick as a flash ma took charge.

‘Don’t worry Miss Hartigan, the priest and I are going upstairs right now to drive the demon out,’ she declared.

With that she grabbed the bewildered Father O’Brien and dragged him upstairs by the arm. We raced after them not wanting to miss the action.

As soon as ma got the priest upstairs she let go of him. Looking him straight in the eye she said, ‘OK, do it.’

‘Do what?’ gasped the priest as he looked around in desperation, and seeing our two grinning faces.

‘Get rid of the devil,’ snarled ma. I think she had enough of this by now.

‘But I haven’t an idea what to do,’ he pleaded.

‘Just pretend,’ whispered ma. ‘Make some chanting noises. She won’t know the difference, but make it loud. She has to hear you, her faith is in your hands,’ she replied to the poor Priest .

The priest backed away in fright, squared his shoulders and started to babble away loudly in some strange language, looking at ma at the same time for some sign of approval. We hadn’t a clue what he was saying but it certainly sounded good. Miss Hartigan definitely thought so as well. As we glanced down the stairs we could see her sitting there weaving from side to side with a weird smile on her face as if in time to the rhythm of the priest’s voice.

We all headed downstairs and as we reached the bottom ma took charge again.

‘It’s OK, he’s gone now,’ she shouted into the hag’s ear. She just sat there with that silly grin on her face, not saying a word, as she grabbed hold of the priest with a grip like death, afraid to let him go.

They took her away in the ambulance then,

‘Just for observation,’ said the medico, glad to be getting away from this weird show.

As the priest was leaving he turned to ma and leaned close to her ear.

‘Let’s keep this little event amongst ourselves shall we?’ he asked in a pleading voice. Ma nodded her agreement as he hurried away with his head down, praying that nobody from the parish would spot him and that he wouldn’t have to explain his first exorcism.

Miss Hartigan only lasted two weeks after that. She had come home the next morning and went straight to her room, locking the door. We hardly saw her for the whole two weeks. She never came down for meals, insisting on having a sandwich in her room. When nature forced her to use the toilet we could hear her chanting out loud, sounding very like the priest as she rushed there and back as quickly as was humanly possible.

On the day she left, we stood in the doorway as the taxi drove away and as we all waved goodbye to the departing Miss Hartigan, ma turned to go back inside and then stopped. She looked at the three of us with an icy stare. ‘I don’t know what happened that night to frighten that woman but if the devil ever appears here again, it will be me, not the priest, that will be doing the exorcising, got it?’

She stared at us for a moment as we stood nailed to the spot, then turned and strode off.

Vin gasped, ‘What did she mean?’

Des and I just looked at each other, ‘Not a clue’! I replied.

5

Long before Miss Hartigan and as far back as I can remember, whenever the subject of school came up da would find some excuse to change it, so by the time I had reached the age of six I still hadn’t seen the inside of a school.

The reason for this was simple. Da had a fear of any of his kids having to travel by public transport or by bike. It was out of the question as far as my father was concerned. In order to reach any of our local schools we had to cross roads, and this was yet another no-no in my father’s eyes.

I agreed completely with my father. After all I was quite happy to stay home playing while all the other kids were trudging off to school, heads down, dragging their schoolbags behind them. I used to get up early and stand at the gate just to gloat. But that was about to come to an end.

Ma decided she had enough.

After a really hard week with Vin and me conducting war games between the back and front yards, using the house as the central battleground and Des’ pram as a tank, three young kids around the house were more than she could stand. Ma finally cracked!

Collaring da that evening, she informed him that he had two days to find me a school to go to or he could start taking me to work with him. I thought this was a great idea, but da not so much.

Realising that ma was serious and he had to do something quickly, he went in search of help to the place where he solved all his problems: the pub. That’s where da and his mates could confide in each other over a drink or two and cry on each other’s shoulders.

By chance, one of them came up with the answer. He suggested a small private school that he had carried out some work on. It was quite close to our house and, most importantly, there were no roads to cross.

At first ma exploded, yelling at him: ‘Private school! Are you mad? We can’t pay attention and you want to send him to private school.’

Now I hadn’t an idea what private school was, but one thing I heard that appealed to me was that it was mixed. I guess it was because I was curious about the opposite sex even though at the tender age of six I hadn’t an idea why. Maybe it was because I hadn’t any sisters and wanted to find out more about girls. Da finally convinced her that it would be ok. She didn’t believe him on the one hand, but on the other she was glad to be getting rid of me and reluctantly agreed.

‘Remember, it’s your problem,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want to know anything about the bills from that school.’

‘No problem,’ said da. ‘I’ll do a bit of overtime,’ he said without much conviction.

Poor old dad lived a bit of a Walter Mitty life. He wanted to live the high life but lacked the courage to go and get it, yet as far as his sons were concerned he seemed to make that extra effort.

As the next day was Saturday, we headed around to the school to see if he could get me enrolled. All the way up the road I was looking for something that resembled a school, but all I could see were houses just like ours. We walked up and down the road twice before he stopped.

He stood scratching his head and I heard him mumble, ‘Where the fuck is it’?

Then set off checking the numbers.

Suddenly he stopped, looking at a particular house, which to me looked the same as all the rest.

‘This is it. Mrs Forbes Private School, number six,’ he said with some surprise in his voice.

I looked, but all I could see was an ordinary house with no number on the door but da seemed sure as he propelled me up the path. After ringing the bell, he stood in silence with me beside him. As the door opened our mouths fell open in shock.

There stood the fattest woman I had ever seen! I jumped behind da, peeking out in terror.

‘I’ve come to enrol my son in the school. Is this the right place?’ questioned da in the best voice he could muster.

I think he was as afraid of this weird apparition as I was. She had a beet-red face with small pig-like eyes into which were embedded tiny wire-framed glasses.

Her head seemed to merge into her neck and, hanging down in straggly pieces, was the strangest straw-like hair. As my eyes travelled down I saw her massive body covered by a sort of tent-like, bright flowery dress. Da said later when he was relating the whole story to Ma, that if she ever got tired of it she could make it into curtains for the whole house.

‘You better come in,’ she said as all of her chins quivered in response.

We followed her into the front room.

‘Sit down!’ she commanded.

We sat, glancing up I could see that Da was as scared as I was.

‘We have a small but very special school here and we are very selective of our pupils,’ she informed da, as she glared at me.

‘We only live around the corner. It would be very handy,’ said da in a sort of pleading voice.

‘Wait a moment. I’ll take a look,’ she said, as she waddled out of the room.

‘Da, I’m afraid,’ I said, starting to whimper.

‘Shut