Guest Blog – Balbriggan Summertime Memories

Dublin Author Gemma Jackson recounts a summer holiday she had in Balbriggan as a child.

One of my earliest memories is of sitting on the stairs listening as my parents, a priest and a schoolteacher beg some faceless man to allow me to be sent away. I was about three years old.

Why did our parents think we were deaf?

The two sisters nearest to me in age sat above me. When I started to cry one of them hit me and told me I was being adopted because I was too much trouble. Childhood – what a marvellous time!

It would be years before I understood that we were being sent away to give my mother – the mother of six – a break. I was too young for the holiday home in Balbriggan but assurances were being offered that my older siblings would look after me. I was eventually allowed to join them on their holiday break to Balbriggan. The first and I think the only childhood holiday we would ever have.

What a turn up for the books. It was, to my eyes, such a strange place. I have no memory of adults. I do remember learning all kinds of new words and activities. We had a tuck shop. I had never heard of such a thing. We were lined up and received pocket money – real money – that was all ours and could be spent at the tuck shop. My older sisters soon relieved me of that responsibility!

We were organised into groups to enjoy ourselves. This seemed really strange to me as normally – coming from a large family – I just tagged along. The sun seemed to shine every day. We slept in dormitories. I normally shared a bed of top to tail sleeping so a bed to myself was a novelty.

Everything about that week was a novelty. My sisters who were three and five years older than me ran about everywhere, laughing and screaming at the adventure. We had attention all day and someone who cared if we were having a good time. As the fifth child I was confused by the attention.

There was a talent show. No one told me. I played with a bucket and spade with great delight while my sisters practised. I was completely ignorant of the goings on. That was until I found myself on a stage in front of bright lights and an audience! I wonder if that is where my sheer terror at the thought of performing comes from?

My sisters performed their routine while I stood there like a doll much to the amusement of the audience. When they began to sing and do the movements of a routine I was familiar with as my mother had taught it to us I joined in. Imagine my surprise and my sister’s horror when I won the prize! 

Balbriggan holds a very special place in my memory because of those few days. It was a time out of time.

Gemma Jackson writes factually-based fiction about Dublin in the ‘auld days’. Her books include: ‘Through Streets Broad and Narrow’, ‘Ha’penny Chance’ and ‘Impossible Dream’. (Poolbeg)

Cover image: Balbriggan in 1965, blessing the boats. The Benton-Curtis Collection.