I was born on the west
coast of Ireland, a little place called Achill Island,
in 1932. I loved the sea and the mountains. It's a
beautiful place in summer time, but in the wintertime I
can tell you, you'd want to keep your cap on. My father,
God rest him, he came to England at probably every June
or July and he worked in England until just before
Christmas, then back to Ireland for Christmas and maybe
a month or so after. So my mother looked after the
family, kept the house, sowed the crops - this was what
all the ladies in those days had to do. We didn't see
too much of my father as he was away probably 75% of his
time.
There was no money, or
very little money - we were dependent on the money that
came from England. My father worked on the buildings all
over England, in Reading, Oxford, Cumberland - he was a
labouring man, he had no trade. He tried to get to
America but he was caught in Canada and deported back -
his brother got through.
It was an old saying
that the poor people were born near the sea, because you
were never hungry when you were near the sea. You could
do a bit of fishing - fish, potatoes and buttermilk was
our main meal. We owned about 5 acres, but this land was
really stony ground. But we were able to sow a crop of
potatoes and we manured them with seaweed. We sowed some
oats and cut a big crop of hay to feed the cattle. We
just sowed enough for our own family and for as many
cattle as we had.
...
I was thinking I'd be delighted to get away, get on a
train, on a bus, because I'd never been on a train.
...
There was five children
in our family - we had a three bed roomed thatched
cottage. You entered into the kitchen, which was
probably the biggest room in the house. You had a
dresser for all the delftwares, you had a sideboard. You
were lucky if you had a concrete floor - in the early
days it was stone flagged floors. There was a bedroom at
each end, and the kitchen in the centre. We had a
comfortable house, really warm - it was all done with
the fire. We baked the bread in an oven on the fire,
boiled the potatoes, kept the pot hanging on the crook
in the chimney. We cut turf, in the bog. This was done
at St. Patrick's Day, roughly - then when the weather
got good they moved it back and forth and finally it got
solid and was dry. That was the heat sorted out.
I left school a little
bit before 14 - I was delighted to get out of that gate.
In those days the youngsters of Achill, both boys and
girls, they emigrated to Scotland to the potato picking.
I was thinking I'd be delighted to get away, get on a
train, on a bus, because I'd never been on a train. We
had to emigrate because you couldn't get a job there.
There was a ganger man and he gathered all these people
together, probably forty or fifty, and they all went to
Scotland in June for the early potato crop. And that
lasted until Christmas. The man who was in charge of
this was a neighbour - we knew all the people. When we
got there the accommodation wasn't great, it was living
in outhouses. We were paid by the man in charge, every
Saturday afternoon, not very much - probably about £3
and 10 shillings. I was lonely after my mother and my
brother and sisters as well. When we were leaving home
it didn't cost me a thought, but I was definitely very
lonely, first time away from home - I was just 14.
What I didn't like was
the time we had to get up in the morning. There was a
main contractor in Glasgow, he was the man who was
employing all these people, he had actually taken over
the potatoes on all the farms. And when he wanted a
massive order, he might want that for 6 or 7 o'clock in
the morning - and we had to go out at 3 or 4 o'clock and
get our part of the order. I was loading the potatoes
onto the horse carts. I went there two years, but after
that I decided I wouldn't go any more - I had England in
sight then.
...
I thought Luton was lovely - it was a beautiful place.
...
August '49 I came to
Lancashire. I couldn't get away from the farms - it was
the only thing I knew - I had a mate with me and we
worked for a farmer. It was cash in hand - the farmer
paid us about £5 or £6 a week. We couldn't afford to
spend too much because we had to send a few pounds home.
If you didn't, you'd be having a letter! Every three
weeks we'd probably send ten pounds home. It was better
in England.
After two years in
England I decided to try the building industry. My first
job was with George Wimpey, building Crawley new town.
Then I went working on the railway and it was all people
from home - probably about fifty or sixty of us
altogether. We were moved into a place called
Cheddington, near Leighton Buzzard. Then I was in Derby
- that was where I met and married my wife. I first came
to Luton in 1953 working for the railway and after
getting married we came back to Luton in 1961. I thought
Luton was lovely - it was a beautiful place.
My life in Luton has
been really first class. It's been a good town to a lot
of Irishmen and women.
