144 Fitzgibbon Street

The Police Barracks was opposite number ten. When coal was delivered, the kids would scurry around like hyenas waiting for an opportunity to lift some coal from under the nose of the supervising policeman. Dodging a size twelve boot could be dangerous. The police called us gurriers. On a good day they would let us use the handball alley. The biggest laugh was when the Police had to close their in house Bar which came following a complaint from the neighbours about the rowdiness and the swearing. I don't think they ever forgave us for that. Fitzgibbon Street was the main conduit for the throng attending the Big Games. I was very proud the day I marched down the street .drumming for the Catholic Boy's Brigade Fife and drum. Got a terrible ragging from the kids. When the bands were exactly between the Barracks and the tenements, the decibel went of the scale. All the women would be out there on the steps with their babies at breast calling out "would yis like a suck" This was followed by screams of laughter. Ah look at him blushing. On one occasion they were chided by a priest . He was left in no doubt as to where he should go.These were the Celtic women Julius Caesar remarked on in his diaries. They were to be feared, even if they were beautiful. The house that the Joyces lived (No.13) in for a spell ,had long since succumbed to rot and the rump was a huckster shop owned by the Hiltons; who sold it to Molly Ford . Mr Ford was a painter and decorator of Chapels. The son Seamus was an actor with Radio Eirann. The street was multi national. Scots (from) Gretna Green; I would fall asleep listening to his hammer beating out trophies for McDowells I could go on forever. Slainte