That’s Alright Mamma

By Josie Dias Wallace

Being a survivor of institutionalized abuse from the late 1950s in Ireland, author Josie Dias Wallace describes her journey after leaving a convent and embarking on a new adventure in England, UK, where she settled permanently alongside her sister Mels, RIP.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781528994002

Josie Dias Wallace

The author was born in the late 1940s in Ireland and experienced institutionalism within a catholic convent. She details embarking on a new journey in England UK, after leaving the convent, where she would meet her husband and start a family.

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About the Author

The author was born in the late 1940s in Ireland and experienced institutionalism within a catholic convent.

She details embarking on a new journey in England UK, after leaving the convent, where she would meet her husband and start a family.

Dedication

Me and my beloved sister Mels RIP

I am dedicating this book to my dear sister and best friend Mels, RIP. I always think of you when I see the robins and butterflies, and I always feel your spirit guiding me.

My children and grandchildren.

My late partner Seannine, who sadly passed away in April 2021, and all my friends—they know who they are.

Copyright Information ©

Josie Dias Wallace 2023

The right of Josie Dias Wallace to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

All of the events in this memoir are true to the best of author’s memory. The views expressed in this memoir are solely those of the author.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528993999 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528994002 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

A big thank you to Dr Barnardo’s for helping me access archive records about my Dadda and Mamma and the child that died with her, learning that we had two little brothers. Also, I would like to thank all the staff that supported me from Caranua.

Chapter One

In the local Hospital in Ireland, on October 19th, 1947, I was born. My eldest brother was the first-born. A good thing really because when I was born, the nurses had mixed me up with another baby. Mamma had changed me earlier in the day, and she fastened my safety pin in such a way that she recognised the other baby wasn’t hers.

Believe it or not, later on in life, I bumped into her in a local pub in London, when I had settled in England and we shared our experiences of how life was back then. She reminded me of how proud my father was of me and that he would say, I bet you can’t dance like my Josie could dance in a saucer. I remember asking her to repeat it at least four times as it felt so good to hear how my father thought of me. He had never told me himself.

Only months later though, we had another addition to the family.

And on 1st, December 1948, my sister was born. So now we had my eldest brother, myself and my sister, the Irish twin. Mamma didn’t really get much rest before she had her. We all lived in a one-room outhouse with Dadda as well. You couldn’t really call it a house, flat or even a maisonette. There were two of them side by side. We kept coal in the other one.

In front of them was a cottage where the landlord lived. I think they were his sheds and he let us live there rent free. Well, you couldn’t expect us to have paid anything for that! Inside, we had a fireplace in the middle, a table and three beds. It was a very large shed, but Mamma made it look lovely.

1

Mamma with my Aunty, my ‘namesake’

Mamma was very clean, actually, she was known for it.

She had a sister, and three brothers. Aunty J had two daughters. Unfortunately, Aunty J died, giving birth to the youngest cousin, who survived, so all the children and the baby had to go into the convent.

Me, Dadda, step-mum, my eldest with all the family

Dadda had a big family with three brothers and four sisters. And soon, there was another addition to our family, baby J. He wasn’t around for long though. The angels came and took him away; little darling.

I remember Mamma was making scones for the family attending the funeral and she could only afford to make enough for the visitors.

She had warned my brother and I that if she asked us in front of them, Would you like one? We were to answer,

No thanks, Mamma.

Of course, when she did ask us in front of everyone, we said, Yes, please, Mamma! Poor Mamma’s face! She could have killed us. They put baby J in a little, white box and he was never mentioned again.

Even though the shed was kept very clean, it didn’t stop the rats from running all around us. Dadda used to put poison down every night, but you could still hear them running overhead up in the roof.

Dadda, Mamma and Mels slept in the big bed. My brother slept in the bed next to them and I was in the other bed alongside. So, there were the three beds and the table which was near a small window. We had no electric lights but an oil lamp which Mamma used to do her knitting by.

Across the road from the house was the milk factory where everyone would meet, chatting about pigs, cows and sheep. However, I still go down the road to Mrs R for our milk; she was a good friend of Mamma’s. She had a big, black book for people like us that couldn’t pay up front. We would get our daily shopping from her.

I was six years old when I made my first Holy Communion. Mamma’s friend’s daughter made her Communion the year before. Mamma cycled all the way into town, just so that I could borrow the white Communion dress.

On the morning of the Communion, we were all very busy. Dadda was sitting in the corner of the room and I had only a vest and knickers on, standing next to him. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t hold in my fart. I remember them all laughing at me, I didn’t think it was that funny! I tried to keep it in, but you can only keep it in for so long!

My brother looked great that day. He was wearing a lovely jumper that Mamma had knitted for him.

The communion took place at the local church, right next to school. And, to be honest, I didn’t understand any of it.

We were too young to understand the meaning of Jesus and the receiving of the Holy Sacrament of Reconciliation. It was just a day out for us to collect the big brown penny to buy an ice-cream. I counted the pennies all day and I remember Dadda saying, Have you got enough for a pint for me? Dadda was a ploughman. He worked for local farmer’s family who was a girl in my class at school. He did other kinds of jobs as well; all for very little money.

To get by, Mamma did a lot of knitting for one person or another just to get enough money for us.

I eventually had another baby sister called P, who was born on March 11th, 1953. She was always balling and crying in the cot. I think there was something wrong with her ears.

One Christmas Eve, Mamma was waiting for the money from the farmer whom she had knitted for so that she could get the bits to put inside our Christmas stockings. But the farmer never paid her.

I remember helping her by putting our long, grey, woollen stockings over the fireplace. When Dadda thought we were asleep, he came in from the pub (drunk). I remember he was trying to fill the stockings. I said, I’m not asleep, I’m waiting for Santa Claus to come down the chimney.

Go to sleep, ar dat, Dadda said, or he won’t come!

The next day, we had our stockings. We each had an orange and a bar of chocolate and I had a little, white, toy egg. There was a little hole on the top of it and whenever I blew into it, it made a whistling noise. Mamma got so mad with the sound of it that she gave me a slap across my head. And then she took it off me and threw it into the fire.

I never had a lot of toys, so I used to wander around the two big meadows at the back of the outhouses. I remember, once I was wandering around alone and as I turned around a wolf or a fox jumped on top of me and pinned me down, playing with me as though I was a pup. Then he started to bite at my forehead. Every time I tried to stand up, it would pull me back down. I went screaming down to Mamma and she made it all better. She always could. But every time I passed that place afterwards, I would always remember what had happened.

My brother loved to play around as well.

He loved to imitate Sean South of Garryowen. He would stand on top of the high wall across the road with his right hand pointed out − that was until one day, he fell off and broke his arm. I told Mamma and she slapped me for not looking after him. He was taken to hospital and after a few weeks, he came home.

Mels and I had new dresses on that day and I loved the smell of ‘new’ because we never had any new things. Our clothes were always made from old clothes. Mamma would make them out of her cast-offs. She knitted our jumpers from wool left over from the knitting she used to do for the farmers. Except one day, Mamma put a beautiful red, velvet dress on me, with smocking all around the top of it. I was very proud of this dress and Mamma put two rows of ringlets in my long, black hair and off to school I went.

I remember it being dinner time, only we didn’t get any dinner. We just had bread and jam and a bottle of milk.

I was standing next to a girl from my class, the local farmer’s daughter, in the play yard and she shouted at me, You’re wearing my dress. The one that I don’t wear anymore! When I got home − the kettle was on the boil and as soon as we walked into the house, shed, whatever you would call it, our tea would be ready for us. This would be bread, butter and jam.

I said, Mamma, M C said that this dress was hers.

Take that feckin’ dress off! she said. She pulled it off over my head and threw it straight into the fire. And I watched it burn to a cinder. That dress was never mentioned again, and we also never had M C’s cast-offs again either!

The Creamery Factory opposite our house/shed

The creamery was just across the road from us. And whenever Aunty A and Auntie