LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
Mrs. FOLEY STORY
I would like to say I enjoyed reading your story in the Douglas Weekly about Mrs. Foley who worked in the church in Douglas all her life. Many years ago I used to hear how good she was. I know there was no name signed to that letter, but I am sure it was Mr. Frank Downey who wrote that letter. I know Frank for many years and he was very kind to his old neighbours and friends and I'm sure he still is. If they were in hospital he went to visit them, if any person died and had no one to look after things, Frank would be there for them. Keep up the good work, Douglas Weekly is a great read.
CONGRATULATIONS TO DOUGLAS RUGBY CLUB
May I use your newsletter to send congratulations to all members of Douglas Rugby Football Club on their 21st anniversary. I have enjoyed many a Sunday afternoon watching the team play regardless of how "Soft" the day was.
Douglas RFC has had much success in recent years winning cups and promotion on a regular basis which is credit to the hard work, determination and commitment of all in the club. With a guaranteed welcome to any one wishing to enjoy either watching or playing rugby the "Hall" has a social side as good as you will see anywhere. I thought I knew what a hangover was until falling into the clutches of Big Don, Pinky, Tom, Troy et all on a Sunday evening in St. Columbas Hall after a match. I still have not managed to figure out what an Irish quart is it just seems a lot more than the English variety. Good luck to everyone for the next 21 yrs.
PS. Please keep up the good work with the newsletter I do enjoy browsing it on the web and staying in touch with Douglas.
COAL QUAY ECHOES
At four years of age I began school at S.S. Peter
and Pauls school on Paul Street. My journey to school from my
home on Sheares Street brought me through the second hand
clothes, fish and meat markets between North Main Street and
Stall vendors wore black shawls. My nan, mother and aunts wore shawls up the mid-50s. Stall holders kept coinage in large pockets of colourful aprons. Pound notes and the red ten shilling note visible inside their stockings, held up with garters.
I poured milk under a doorway on the Coal Quay to a cat I never saw. Fish market extra busy on Fridays. Meat merchants cleaning up on Saturdays.
Simcoxs Bakery with horse stables on Cornmarket Street, with bread and cake shop on Paul Street. We called daily to the bakery for dough. Horses were a familiar sight delivering bread, milk, coal and the dead on their final journey.
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