My Autobiography - Opinions Welcome

This is a few pages of my autobiography I have been working on for the last few years, when I can.

The events took place from mid 1950's Ireland onwards.

I would value any honest opinions and advice, This has not seen the light of day yet so its high time!

Many Thanks Sea_Witch:)


Young Country Girl Required
Chapter One: In the beginning


“Get up or I’ll kill yea!” Mammy shouted, “I’m coming up that stairs with the flex of the kettle, if ye don’t get up I’ll kill yea all!”

I jolt out of sleep with my heart pounding; Dotty my sister was still asleep at the end of the bed. I gave her a shove to wake her up. I heard the lads moving around in their room, we all meet on the landing, bumping into each other as we leaped the steps running from room to room. Under our breaths we hissed “f__k off get out of me way” as the battled of trying to find our clothes commenced.

Mammy is still shouting up from the kitchen, “Will ye get up I said, its eight o clock and ye’ll be all late for school”. The lads charged downstairs, while I search franticly through the crumpled heaps of clothes. Panicking and cornered for time, I stood looking round the chaos of our bedroom the blood pounded through my head with frustration.

I am eleven years old and I am depressed because I know my life is and will always be f___ed up.

I stand there aching for a miracle or for some thing or some one to rescue me from the poverty of my surroundings. A sudden burst of sunlight streamed in through the window. I stand watching the explosion of a million golden dust particles swirling and glittering in the air. Out of the corner of my eye I caught the sunlight glint off the silver buttons on me father’s old railway coats thrown on the beds, making them look like gold coins.

Even though I knew this golden swirling dust display was created by the stampede of children in their morning exodus from the rooms. To me, it felt like a moment of magic sent by God to ease my darkened mood and to kill the feelings of anger. In the warmth of the sun I felt angels gather around me as I walk through the gold dust to the front window. The black shadow of the church clung to the houses on our street, but the way the sunlight caught the stained glass windows made it come alive adding intenseness to the moment.

The sun vanished as fast as it came and I was back to the reality of the grey room. I hit my knee off the bed when I turned too quickly in my search for my rest of my uniform. I look under the bed and caught my hair in one of the broken bed springs dangling in the shadows.

The beds had all seen better days, some were held together with bits of wire tied through the springs on to the bed posts. The faded striped mattresses all had huge dips in the middle. There was usually two or three of us to a bed. Getting into bed was a bit like holding on to the side of a mountain; we fought each other in order to get the best position where you didn’t slip down into the dip. Red horse hair stuffing burst out at various angles of the matrasses and rings of old piss stains that looked like maps of different parts of the world was the main pattern.


Flowery patterned wallpaper gone yellow with age hung on the walls. Layers of cheap lino that tore like paper covered the floor. Sagging curtains hung on six inch nails covered the windows.
This is where I was born, the smell of bread and fresh blas from the Carrols bakery across the road wafted through the window brought me back to the moment and hungry for breakfast I bounded down the stairs. It was Monday morning in our house at number seven Church Street, another Monday morning after another Sunday night.

Sunday night was the worst night for drink and violence in our house, Mammy and us usual spent Sunday nights frightened and afraid to breath; or else having to run out of the house altogether.
Last night was no different; as usual I couldn’t go to sleep with worry. I spend hours sitting up in bed watching Mammy paced up and down the room; at about ten fifteen there was a tiny tap on the bedroom door. My brothers Paddy and Frankie, who were waiting as well, asked “is he coming yet Mammy is it half past ten?”

She whispered “Yea can come in if ye be quiet” they came in and I pushed Dotty who was asleep in a bit so the lads could sit in long side me in the bed.

Mammy was fully dressed standing by the window, she has her speckled green coat on, a silky blue scarf and her rosary beads wrapped around her fingers. It was pitch black in the room, all you could see was the glow of her fag as she sucks in deeply she began to pray.

“Oh mother of divine Jesus look down on me and help me, O Secret heart of Jesus I place all my trust in thee….that bastard may he die roaring the c___t!”

She prayed in amid the cursing and at the same time implored all the angels and saints for protection. The glow of her fag was comforting to us as we looked up at her in the darkness waiting for the Daddy to come home.

The fear of him came in waves and went through me like a knife, trembling when I heard the echo of footsteps and the heels of men’s shoes clicking as they passed by the church. I could recognise the sound of my father’s voice amongst the raised voices and laughter of the crowd.

“Here he come’s lads!” Mammy said; “O Jesus Mary and Joseph, if I have to run lads I’ll be back after wards when he is gone asleep!”

“Good night Pat, good night Tommy” I heard my father shout to his drinking buddies who lived up the top of the street. He waited till his friends were well gone up the street, then the gate and the front door was almost taken off its hinges with the bang he’d gave it.
That was it. We knew once the gate and the door banged, we were in for it. My stomach felt so tight I didn’t know whether I wanted to vomit or s__t myself, I was terrified.
When I heard him coming up the stairs I jumped out of bed and opened the bedroom door, I didn’t know what I was going to do or why I thought I could do anything to stop him, it was like a spontaneous reaction.

He was half way up the stairs, he looked like a monster, wild eyed and baring his teeth; and like a Lion he took three steps of the stairs at a time. before we knew it he was in the room with his fists clenched as he’d lunge at Mammy. We ran around screaming, the younger ones who were still asleep in the house woke up screaming too.

I trembled and freeze. I felt like I was stuck to the floor, suspended in sheer terror.Everything looked like it was happening in slow motion. The heavy thuds of fists and screams of “Daddy, Daddy, stop, please Daddy!!” Mammy screamed “Oh Johnny don’t please Johnnie..!” She tried to get out of the room but he’d caught her and dragged her out on the landing before pushing her down the stairs to his room. We knew we could not follow her down the stairs he would have killed us, so we sat like little mice shaking in the dark wondering what was going on. Sometimes things would go quiet and then I could hear Mammy crying.

Misery filled the night as we waited for her to come back up to her room. I went in to calm the smaller children and they stopped crying and went back to sleep. Paddy and Frankie tried but couldn’t stay awake any longer made their way back to their room, their anxious faces looking pale and helpless. I sat on the step on the landing freezing in my vest. After what seemed like a lifetime Mammy crept back up the stairs, she lifted her head up when she reached the top of the stairs, her eyes widened in surprise to seem me.

She whispered to me “Creep down the stairs to the kitchen girl and get the basin and a face cloth, don’t make a sound”. She was bleeding from her nose and her hair was standing up.
Like a mouse I made my way down stairs in the dark, stopping to listen on every step, holding my breath, one step at a time I made my way to the kitchen and felt my way around in the dark for the basin and cloth, I went back upstairs just like I had come down, rigid with fear.

I held the basin for her, when she let go of the rag she was holding the blood ran out of her nose like a tap. I hated him and wished he was dead. When she stopped bleeding she sat on the side of the bed and lit a fag, we whispered in the dark holding our breath when we heard the smallest sound or creek in the floor boards.
At about two o clock, we heard him snoring; mammy breathed a sigh of relief and whispered more prayers. I snuggled in beside her and fell asleep.

The next thing I hear is Mammy shouting “Get up or ill kill Ye!” and it was Monday morning.