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Post by livenowpraylater on Jan 9, 2012 19:55:43 GMT
Hi JJ.& Jonny. you are not happy enough with a RR amour car on the CURRAGH, but you had a load of posh bikes as well. some of them i never heard of, now you may well ask why i named the HMC,if i never heard of it. now traveling around the roads of Wicklow & Kidare gathering up bits of old bikes an when you had enough bits than you need, you made a H.M.C. (Home Made Crock) no Tyre's, no brakes, but you had to learn to ride one sometime,,i never knew how the other half lived, you lucky beggars. jonny, when i hear the bang, i will know you used cheap Chinese tube he he. edward.
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Post by jjcurran on Jan 10, 2012 0:32:38 GMT
Hi Kathyo, I well remember the letters from the HP company enquiring from my dad where was the instalment for the bike which was due last week/month. Somehow he managed to pay for it over about two years. I must pay tribute to the Sinnotts who lived beside me when we were in Ceannt. They got two new bikes from Cavandishs, a beautiful wine coloured lady’s bike and a blue boys bike. I learned to cycle on them around the Gym field and I think I spent more time on them than they did themselves. Many is the fall I got, mainly because I was going at reckless speed. How times have changed. The young of today expect a car now instead of a bike. I somehow think we were better off with less. Regards JJ
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Post by kathyo on Jan 10, 2012 9:40:02 GMT
Hi JJ indeed we were much better off.I do feel sorry for the young today they will never have the freedom and the sense of fun we had growing up on the Curragh in the 50's and 60'take care jj all the best kathyo
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Post by johnnykelly on Jan 10, 2012 14:36:36 GMT
Re:Curagh Memories50's 60's 70's (Joey Kelly) Hi jj did you ever have to attempt to learn to cycle an Army bike at your very 1st attempt at learning to cycle a bike under bar: i leg under the crossbarand you at approx 90'o angle to the road.and down and up we fell but kept at it until the art was mastered, and then the creme de monte i foot on the pedal skip skip skip hop hop up and throw the leg over onto the saddle and away you went and sometimes one forgot in the excitement which brake was which and over the top you went but no tears just upup and away again. proud as punch and then that evening the request for a bike for your next bicycle, now Joey has a nice little story about birthday present concerning bikes, sceal eile bye for now Johnny
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Post by jjcurran on Jan 10, 2012 15:38:46 GMT
Hi Johnny and all, With regard to the bikes, I was fortunate to have first learned on a bike which (belonged to a Philip Sinnott, Ceant/Plunkett) which was smaller than an adult full size bike. However when my father got his bike (on the never/never) I was faced with the difficulty of learning the ‘side saddle’ method. When my legs grew a bit longer I managed to clear the cross bar and found that to cycle and reach the pedals required a left/right motion of my posterior and to dismount I found it easier to place a foot on the frame and swing my free leg over the saddle and jump off. I well remember the danger of pressing the front brake but discovered that if I had a person on the crossbar and perhaps another one on the rear carrier then the front brake was essential, especially when careering down Ma Dobbins hill. As you say many a ‘timpist’ occurred but on such occasions you usually felt more embarrassed than physically hurt. I seem to remember my knees were in a permanent state of bleeding.
Edward, I suspected when you mentioned the HMC bikes, it was not the Humber Motor Company that you had in mind as they were usually just called a Humber. The letters HMC were written underneath a logo on the front fork. They were a B**tard bike as they had their own screw thread pattern so parts from other bikes would not fit. So the ‘home made crocks’ were not made from Humbers. I think our bike suffered from over maintenance. The bracket axle bearings were re-oiled at least once a week and of course my leg was always stained with the oil from the chain. Repairing a puncture was common procedure in those days and as often as not the patch was made up from a piece of old tube. The real enthusiast always carried a puncture repair kit together with two tyre levers. I recall that my father would leave the bike casually anywhere without fear of it being stolen but he always took the pump with him. Unfortunately those days are long gone and you now have to chain the bike to a lamppost and hope that it will be still there when you return. There I go rabbitting on. I just wanted to show off how good I’m getting at the typing. Regards to all JJ
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Post by jim on Jan 10, 2012 17:35:33 GMT
I remember as a young recruit at Mc Donagh Barracks in 1967 being given the job as Coy Runner before my platoon formed up. Sgt Major Dillon gave me a loan of his Army bicycle to assist me in my duties. As I came down the hill from the Church a tank crossed the road in front of me at Powell's shop and in a panic I forgot about the 'pedal backwards' brake. (Much to the amusement of those gathered waiting for the bus to Dublin) I made a sorry mess of the good Majors bike, but he was quite nice about it. I was afoot from then on.
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Post by livenowpraylater on Jan 10, 2012 18:18:27 GMT
well lads? (i bet that makes you feel young) i know now where fiat/lada vauxhall/opel got the idea from, the cars looked the same but parts didn't fit.
now lads, there i go again forgetting you are grown up's, but it's the body only he he. the problem with this mid life crises is to try and not let your mind make appointments you body cant keep.
tell me now ,did anyone ever put a stone in the brake, an when you went to ride away the brake was jammed on, or very hard to push or ride home ,only for your dad to smile and take the stone out, this only worked once, remember "once bitten twice shy. i remember once, me and a friend were going down bruel hill in usk near killgown , i told him to get off an walk cause i had no brakes, na he said ,I'll put me rubber boot on the wheel, well as we got faster an faster he put the welly to the wheel, o'h there was an awful smell of rubber, an i don't think it was the tyre, says i, have a look at the welly, yep it was melting and fast, changed to the other welly, wasn't long before it was meltin too , because by the time we changed over legs with the good boot we had gathered up more speed, an by now the foot with the mutouge? ( remember the replacement for the sock) was getting overheated to say the least' by hell the smell was mighty, we eventually stopped just down a bit from the shop at usk an i ran back to get the water that was kept outside the shop an poured it into the welly, the relief on his face, but it was short lived, at least i stopped the rubber meltin, but the water had been sitting outside in the blazin sun, laugh i laughed my muthogus off, socks were hard to come by them days, the sleeve of a jumper was the order of the day your stories are bringin back memories long forgotten. a story i had forgotten .
it was young tom's birthday, his dad asked him what he would like, DAD I GOT ME EYE ON A LOVELY BIKE DOWN THE CORNER BIKE SHOP, he said as loud as he could, all excited. well said dad keep your eye on it son . because you'll never get your Arse on it. edward. late note to moderator's i think this post should be in Genral comments an not in Curragh memories, mabey Mirth?.
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Post by romanv on Jan 25, 2012 16:52:23 GMT
Hi folks. I'm hoping that someone can help me out. Does anybody remember Vinny/Declan or Tommy Stokes in the Curragh? I'm piecing together a family tree and am seeking info/stories/pictures etc. I'm Vinny's son who was only a few months old when he died in 1980. Any help would be very much appreciated. Vinny
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Post by jjcurran on Feb 19, 2012 20:51:52 GMT
Hi all Like 99.999 percent of the forum I was saddened and disappointed that a member should fail to adopt and understand the friendly ethos of this wonderful site. I have decided the best course of action is to ‘drive on regardless’ and give all a bit of a laugh and perhaps evoke happy memories for some of you with the following tale from my own experience on the Curragh. My diphtheria injection. One memory that sticks in my mind from my time on the Curragh was the occasion when I went (was brought) for my diphtheria injection. We were living in Ceannt at the time which would put me at about 6 or 7 years old. (I’m a little older now). It was a beautiful hot summer’s day which seems to be a rarity these days. The ‘mammy’ brought me to the Families Hospital and installed me in the waiting room with what seemed like a huge crowd of other mammies and children. I remember the atmosphere there was akin to the death cells in San Quentin. Babies were crying and there was a strong ‘hospital’ smell which had the effect of instilling fear in everyone, especially me. There was a door which would open periodically and a nurse would call out a name in ‘sergeant major’ fashion, and the next victim for the slaughter would be reluctantly encouraged through the door by the mammy and the door would close. There then followed a brief period of silence which would be broken by a loud scream emanating from the room behind the closed door. Frantically I searched for an avenue of escape and noticed that the bottom half of the sash window was open fully. A further scream from the torture chamber was enough for me. I leapt through the open window and set off at a gallop towards the no. 3 range with my poor mother in hot pursuit. I felt confident that she would not catch me but as it happened there was a football match on the Gaelic pitch and a neighbour Luke Kelly RIP, hearing the cries of my mother intervened and grabbed me. I remember getting a couple of wallops from the mammy as she scolded me for ‘making a Holy show of her’. I was dragged reluctantly back to the hospital and eventually entered the ‘chamber of horrors’ for my injection. I remember having to suffer a verbal dressing down from a very stern nurse. Then there was the swab of some awful smelling concoction followed by the dreaded needle which to my surprise was not as bad as I expected. I can still feel the sense of relief I had when it was all over. I fondly remember my mam bringing me into McDonalds shop on the way home and getting me a 4d ice cream which in those days was a double. I acted all macho (not a word familiar to me at the time), showing all the gang the site of my wound. To this day I think of that faithful day every time I get an injection. Regards to all especially Matt. JJ
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Post by Matt McNamara on Feb 19, 2012 21:19:27 GMT
Thanks very much JJ I really enjoyed that, and that’s what this forum is all about, great memories. While reading your post, I had that smell that could only come from the families hospital trigger again in my nose, for a moment I was back there, only I was getting stitches out of my knee, great memories indeed !!
Thanks Again
Matt
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Post by annemcnamara on Feb 19, 2012 21:20:31 GMT
Hi JJ, now that story puts us back on track just when we needed it enjoyed it immensely. Anne.
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Post by andybrennan on Feb 19, 2012 21:32:21 GMT
J.J.
Another well told story of your youth and common to us all.
The only show we ever made of the mammies , you said it " a holy show",.
Andy
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Post by johnnykelly on Feb 19, 2012 22:35:01 GMT
Re:CURRAGH MEMORIES50s 60s 70s by Joey Kelly Hi JJ Ienjoyed the little story of your visit to the families hospital and i too can relate to manys a visit that i hadtherein on entry on the right into the little waiting room where the Da's army number was given, file extracted into the Doctor he sitting in his chair in his long white coat, the nurse in her splendly starched uniform of white headress and green uniform.and that awful smell of hospital cleanliness and the brown lino on the floors polished to a very high shine and then if required out through the door that led into the corridoor and past the front entrance and where the biggest statue stood watching down on all from ahigh whose eyes seemed to follow ones every step, and into the dressings room where large silver containers that held needles dressings and all sorts of utensils and the fear of god if the nurse took out a needle wondering with abated breath if that thing was for you and the heart sinking lowly with releif when another nurse came into the room and brought the needle down the corridior to some other unfortunate recepiant. and the releif when you got out of there with the friendly words fron the nice nurse that if you were quick you could be into school before roll call, and theres you thinking that if you had of gotten a needle would you be on your way to school or be off for the day after letting on to faint at the sight of that bloody needle, bye for now Johnny
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Post by jjcurran on Feb 20, 2012 18:51:33 GMT
Hi all, Glad you enjoyed my ‘diphtheria injection’ tale. Was it called ‘inoculation’? With regard to the ‘hospital smell’ Matt I remember the smell seemed to get onto your clothes and even onto biscuits. My Dad spent some time in the hospital and used to send home biscuits that friends had brought in to him, but we could not stomach them so they usually got the bin. Joey I well remember the silver sterilisers used in the hospital. They were electric but the dentist who visited the school had one which was heated by a primus stove. Cannot remember his name but somehow Dr. Mengele springs to mind. In fairness to all, the medical service on the Curragh was exceptionally good, especially when one considers that I am talking about the Curragh in the late 50’s, not to mention the sorry state of the health service today. Regards to all JJ
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Post by jjcurran on May 3, 2012 23:27:08 GMT
Good Neighbours. Our next door neighbours in Ceannt (1950’s) was Tom Sinnott and family : Philip, Marie, Patsy and Michael. I remember Tom Sinnott bought an 8 mm movie projector and each Friday night would invite all the kids in the block, (Kelly’s, Mullins, Traceys and Harleys as well as ourselves the Currans) to a screening of such epics as The Three Stooges, Laurel and Hardy etc. Television had not reached the Curragh as yet so this was a great treat for us. It must be said that this projector was no Bell and Howell. It was a hand cranked contraption and the only thing electric about it was the bulb which beamed the film onto a white bed sheet which no doubt had FF stamped on it. The films were hired from some place in Dublin and were posted down each week, and had to be returned by post after screening. I remember one film about a circus and embedded in my memory is the scene where a brown bear used to cycle round the circus ring on a one wheeled bicycle. (How could it be a bicycle if it only had one wheel, I hear you say!). Peggy Sinnott (Tom’s wife) often spoiled us with such treats as Orange drinks and home baked apple tart. Can you imagine such acts of kindness taking place in a housing estate today? It is a pity that such acts of good neighbours is not so prevalent these days. Life seems to be busy, busy, busy, these days. The Curragh of the 50’s as I remember it was a very close nit community and I see from reading the posts that this has continued to this day even if the Shadowers are getting fewer and fewer. Long may it continue. Regards JJ
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