What Dreams are Made of

By Edna McCabe

Part 9 - The Scouts and Cliffony

Martin was tired of leaving us behind when he went to direct these camps so he managed to get us a house in Cliffony, in County Sligo, where the next Scout Camp was to be held. He found was an old house with a thatched roof, which the owners had long since left. Their son, PJ Gallagher, said if we didn't mind the condition of the house we were welcome to use it. Then the excitement set in and in due course we all set off on the bus, armed with camp beds, blankets, sleeping bags, delf and cutlery. Our house had two bedrooms and a kitchen with a range, which hadn't been used for years. It smoked for days on end. I remember Mary, Tina and Martin junior asking PJ where the bathroom was. When he pointed to the woods across the road they all ran looking for it. However, Martin wasn't long erecting a wooden hut for all of us to use.

Cliffony Sligo 1962 If it had been a long hot summer our house would have been perfect, but after a few wet days the rain came through the roof. We ran around putting umbrellas up over the camp beds and moving the beds around. The children loved all this excitement.

Martin managed to get the scouts transport on an army lorry and they set up camp in a nearby field; so he could drop in to see us each evening. We were within walking distance of the sea and a short distance from Bundoran, which we could reach by bus. When I think of our Cliffony days I think of time Tina waded out into the sea up to her neck. When a lady screamed that she out of her depth I nearly fainted. We all shouted at Tina and then miraculously she turned and made her way out of the water. After that we usual stayed out of the sea unless the scouts were around, as they always had a qualified lifesaver with them. In any event, we made it clear to the girls that they were only allowed to wade up to their waists. We had no problem with young Martin, as he was quite happy making sandcastles with me.

I remember one time in Cliffony when Auntie Grace, Barry and Ann came to visit us. As there was no electricity in our cottage, we left a candle lighting all night in Auntie Grace's room. It seems PJ's friends played cards in the house from time to time; so when one friend passed and saw the light in the house he thought a game of cards was in progress. So he made for the house and tapped on Auntie Grace's window. Well, you can imagine how my sister screamed and made all of us hysterical. After that Grace was more nervous than usual. A few days later there were more hysterics when a "cow" started rooting under her window. When she got the courage to look out her window she saw that the cow was in fact wearing shoes.

Another image of Cliffony is that of Earl Mountbatton, the Queen of England's uncle, riding along the sand on his horse. He lived in Classiebawn Castle, which is up on a promontory overlooking the Atlantic at Mullaghmore; he used to canter along as far as our beach. He was an old, distinguished looking gentleman and he loved to pull up and talk to the children. We were shocked, many years later, when we heard that an IRA bomb killed him and some of his relations during a fishing trip.

On the scouts' last night in Cliffony we were invited to the campfire; the whole field was lit up and we had tea under the stars. The girls and little Martin were thrilled as the watched the flames and the sparks flying into the sky - especially as up to then the scouts' camp had been out of bounds. After a while a big crowd from the village come to join in the singing and, though we could hardly see them, they had great voices.

One day we heard that Roger Currid, an old man who lived in a cottage near us was very sick. We decided to go to Timmoney's, the grocer in the village, to buy something for him. Then we changed our mind and decided what we'd give him a small bottle of whiskey. We all sneaked into his house as someone said he might be sleeping. Inside I said to the others, "I'll just leave the whiskey on the shelf." As we were leaving one eye opened and look around the room until it came to rest on the bottle. We left with the feeling that Rodger wasn't that sick after all. The following year when we arrived we soon learned that Roger had indeed passed on.

Scouting days in Cliffony hold wonderful memories for us all. All sorts of little things happened those years. Tina remembers her dad arriving at the cottage in the dead of night and lifting her out of her bed to put a sick boy scout in! That same sick scout, now a grown man, still visits me; he loves telling his wife that he once slept with Tina (well, in her bed anyway). There was another boy scout, Declan Murphy, who rather small for his age; I remember he won an underage race and how all the McCabes cheered him on. However, Declan was experimenting with cigarettes at the time; so Martin senior allowed him to get so sick that he never smoked again. Declan is still a good friend of the family to this day.

Then there was the lady from Classiebawn Estate wanted to adopt Tina. PJ Gallagher said we'd better hide Tina as the lady in question wasn't "all there". There was also the day Martin lost his wallet with all the scout money; luckily two nuns found it.

Scouts were always coming and going at our house, 47 Assumption Road, and the hall was never empty of rucksacks, tents, poles, all sorts of scouting gear. One scout leader, a great friend of ours called Noel Brett, said the scouts and the McCabes were really one big extended family.

My happiest memories are of New Year's Eve in number 47. All the scouts used to come to sing in the New Year with us. These were great occasions, especially as our wedding anniversary was on the next day, New Year's Day. Martin loved getting the living room ready for these occasions. He used to move the furniture and bring in wooden forms to make space for the boys. Those who couldn't get a seat sat in a circle around on the floor. There were crates of minerals and other goodies; and the young children were allowed up late. I can still hear the scouts calling out as they went out into the snowy, frosty or wet night, "Happy New Year!"

Well, the next few years passed happily and that special feeling between Martin and I never changed and he always gave me his special kiss and hug at night. The girls were now growing up and Martin senior was so proud of them. He called them his "four little women" and once said that if anyone harmed them he wouldn't wait for recourse to the law. Little Martin was as ever a serious fellow who followed his dad around when he wasn't playing with his box of cars.

And when the girls and I didn't appreciate Martin senior's dry humour he used to say that he hadn't a chance with so many women. But we knew from the twinkle in his eye that he was enjoying all our antics. He loved answering the girls' questions and going off to the library to look up things up for them. He had no trouble telling the children about the "birds and the bees" as they were always in touch with nature through life in the garden where Martin had his birds and his mice, his hamsters and his rabbits.

On special days, like my birthdays or Valentine's Day, Martin used to get one of the children to pick flowers from the garden and make a presentation to me. Not to be outdone, Valerie arrived in one day with a bunch of dandelions and, of course, I had to put them in a vase in the front window where they remained in pride of place 'till they died.