c/o Mme LeClercq
Le Restaurant
St Philibert
Trégunc
France
Friday, 26 August 1983
Dear Mary,
And before I say another word, let me warn you that this letter is most likely to be written at different intervals over the next few days, and consequently will be rather disjointed and somewhat peculiar.
At the moment I’m one of the few left sitting on the decks, watching the sun going down. Unfortunately it’s rather cloudy so things are not as spectacular as one might hope. Nevertheless, the golden streaks of the sea, foam which is the most amazing shade of green (well, I suppose it is the water that is that colour), noise of the engines, smell of the chips and babble of French-accented voices all makes a rather pleasant calming scene.
Unbelievably, I’m not feeling sick and at one stage only felt rather dizzy. I can hardly believe it myself! I didn’t even feel sick coming down to Cork from Tipperary in the car this morning.
I suppose I should give a quick rundown of the day. Left home after ten. Mrs B was giving a French girl a lift to Cork. She too is going to Roscoff. Her name’s Valerie and she had been staying with Margaret Cooney as part of the town twinning. I thought I’d have a companion for the journey over. But she has a berth and I have a reclining chair. Therefore, once we got aboard at about 2 p.m. we split up. I think it’s just as well anyway. It would be too difficult and embarrassing to make conversation and besides I’d rather be independent, and not feel guilty every time I feel like taking a stroll or something.
Surprisingly enough, it took very little time to explore the boat. (Mrs B insists that a ship is bigger than this one! Maybe we should compromise and call it a ferry?) There are three decks all linked by stairs. The view of Ringaskiddy as we were pulling out was absolutely marvellous. Piles of colourful houses on a steep slope with a lovely church right in the centre. The boat is blue and white, smaller than I expected and surprisingly clean.
This afternoon it was really warm and I sat on a step reading. All of the chairs had been swiped before I came outside. Now, as most people have gone in for dinner, chairs are once more available. Mind you, they’re not much more comfortable than the steps, which are made of steel.
I’m glad Mrs B was picking me up. But for more reasons than one. There was no time for last-minute goodbyes and emotional scenes this morning. But on reflection I cannot imagine any of my family getting all soppy and weepy. I suppose I’m being a bit premature but I don’t feel homesick yet.
I was talking to Lena for about five minutes, who worked as au-pair for the family last year. She says the middle child, Delphine, is a bit of a handful. You wouldn’t think it with that name, would you?
Oh, by the way, I rang Mrs Denny** to say goodbye to her on Friday evening. I was talking to her for quite a while on the phone. I told her what Reggie** said about repeating the Leaving. But Denny said is there any point when I’m not really dying to take up a specific career – or words to that effect. Anyway, I think that by the time I got home on Thursday evening I’d decided not to repeat. I wish I could make up my mind and stick to one particular thing, but I seem incapable of doing so. I suppose you’d say it’s a case of welcome-to-the-club!
Monday, 29 August, 10 p.m.
Hi again! Right now I’m curled up on a couch trying to balance a bowl of coffee, write this letter and understand a film on the TV. I suppose I should finish off where this letter began. On the ship I wandered around, ate, drank coffee, knitted and read until about twelve. Then, after much effort, I slept on my reclining chair to finally awaken at 4 a.m. Then I got up and wandered around, stepping over the sleeping bags of scruffy, bearded, greasy-headed French students (only the beards defining male from female!), hoping in vain to see the sun rise over the sea. But here the sun gets up after seven o’clock, and so I was out of luck!
Do us a favour, will you? Go up to Clonmel and punch the girl in the travel agency on the nose pour moi, because we docked in Roscoff at 6 a.m.! Got through Customs (could have had a case full of drugs and no problem) and waited ’til 7.15 a.m. when M. & Mme LeClercq arrived with son, daughter and nephew. Got into car, drove to St Philibert, a small village six km from Trégunc, and arrived at 9 a.m. Had brekky, went to visit Mme LeC’s mother, returned to restaurant, leaving kids at Grandma’s, had lunch, slept a little, read a little, wrote a little. Visited Grandma’s again in Trégunc at about 4 p.m. Talk about being thrown in at the deep end!
For the first time in years, she had her four kids and their families gathered around. That left me struck dumb – well, slight exaggeration, I could say ‘oui’, ‘non’ and ‘merci’ (mercy!). In the crowd, ten adults and an army of kids. I wasn’t ignored, far from it, but I was so tired and felt really shy and awkward not knowing what to do. Then the kids were all grumpy at each other and decided to demolish a tent. Only by chewing very hard on my lip could I prevent myself from bursting into tears. If there had been a ship home on Sunday night I’d be delivering this letter by hand! And I’m not joking. Well, the silver lining in yesterday’s cloud is my first glass of champagne and that lining was only silver-plated. Perhaps one has to develop a taste for these things. Today, after a good night’s sleep, I feel much better and perhaps I won’t jump out of my dormer window after all.
I suppose I should describe the family. M. and Mme are both very nice, early thirties, I’d say, both dark-haired. She’s very brown, but he looks positively anaemic. If I glued some of his skin onto this page, you wouldn’t notice it! The oldest girl (twelve years) Chrystelle, after three meetings, strikes me as being very nice. But I have nothing to do with her. Delphine I’ve been warned about, as previously said. She’s staying at her grandmother’s now, so I cannot say more about her. Thomas should count himself lucky not to be floating face downward in the bath (pronounce the name as ‘Tomah’). He’s about two and I’d imagine is a very nice kid when he’s not over-tired or sulking, which he has been for the past two days. He’s a peculiar kid, really. Perhaps he’s just shy at the moment. Lena liked him anyway, and I suppose I will too, when I’m leaving.
I love their house. I’d say at one stage it was a two-storeyed one, the second storey being extremely high. The first floor is the restaurant. It’s quite large and furnished with wooden tables and red-white checked tablecloths and lamps and curtains. Nine people work there. I don’t know if that includes Mme and M. But I’ve met some of the staff as we have lunch and supper together, before the place opens to the public.
There are two girls – both fairly nice. Then there are three boys; one blond, quite attractive, one dark, very attractive, and one curly-haired, dark and sitting beside me, so that’s the end of that description! (The other two sit across from me.) The third boy is getting some teasing because he is eating very little. I don’t know if it’s because he is on a diet or waiting for the results of the Bac. They’re all pleasant enough, I’d imagine, even though I’m incapable of speaking to them!
To return to my original description of the house – well, I’d say the second storey was divided in two. Downstairs is the huge kitchen/sitting-room. In a corner is an adorable spiral staircase leading upwards (where else?). About half of the second floor then is covered by our bedroom and the bathroom and toilet which we use – there being another one downstairs for the parents.
I share a room with Chrystelle (I love the spelling of it) and Delphine but have it to myself at the moment as they are both away. They have bunk beds. I think they have the same type on Diff’rent Strokes. My bed is just under the sloping roof, beside the window.
Well, that’s enough of descriptions except to say the Catholic church is across the road and yesterday I went to Mass there, even though I couldn’t understand a word of it. It was the feast day of St Philibert and afterwards there was a procession led by women wearing the traditional Breton costumes, which you are doubtless familiar with, Mary!
Also right outside the restaurant is a bloody funfair and the guy in charge of records has a passion for Rod Stewart and played ‘Baby Jane’ four times in a row as I was trying to sleep last night! They play music the whole time, much of it in English. Hark? There’s David Bowie and ‘Let’s Dance’. But I’ll be glad when the carnival goes tomorrow let me tell you.
I never thought I’d say it, but, boy, do I regret all of those hours I slept during Nolan’s French class! I can barely open my mouth. I wish I’d slept more often during Irish class, though, because every time I wish to indicate that I don’t understand (which is very often) I feel a burning desire to say ‘Gabh mo leithscéal’! I have a lot of French in my head but it’s just trying to say it that’s so hard. It would be much easier to write it. Even now, here and there, I feel the need to write a word in French. I suppose by this time next week I’ll be able to talk a bit more. I hope so. Oh, there’s Kajagoogoo with ‘Too Shy’. That’s me! Telly is hopeless tonight, so I keep turning it up and down with the remote control. Down when I hear a good song from the carnival outside and up when Rod Stewart comes on, which is often, about every third song!
I don’t think I need to have any worries about competing with Lena. When I first arrived Mme asked me if I smoked. Then her relations asked me the same thing. I finally plucked up enough French and courage to ask why everyone wanted to know and breathed a sigh of relief when I said, ‘No.’ Mme said that Lena was a chain smoker and there were cigarettes everywhere, even in the children’s beds (I got suspicious there – my evil mind, I suppose!). She elaborated then about Lena. She went out nearly every night, to return at three or four and then rose at about twelve. Also, she never played with Thomas, etc. My spirits lifted a bit there. But I sympathise with Lena as far as Thomas is concerned as I cannot imagine him playing with anybody!
Did I mention food before? Well, it’s lovely, particularly the bread, which is delicious. (I should have written that in capital letters, I think.) It’s quite simple food, nothing outlandish really, so far anyway. Although this evening for supper there were prawns or something (about five inches long with claws, etc. D’you know what they are?). Not knowing what way to eat them anyway, I said I didn’t like them (how sophisticated!) and was met with amazed stares from everybody. But I made up for it with the pizza, which was delicious. Also, there were boiled eggs, halved and served with a sauce, and cauliflower. But I doubt if you’d like it, even though I loved it! By the way, everybody just pulled the fish apart with their hands à la Henry VIII!
Well, that’s my sadistic act over for tonight. I suppose your mother will have to go and buy you a new pair of eyes tomorrow after trying to decipher this lengthy scribble. I’d be grateful (eternally!) if you could pass this on to Sue if you happen to see her. I’ll probably write to her later (oh, God, Rod Stewart again!). As a matter of fact, I’ll certainly write to her. However, I’ve no intention of going into long descriptions again, having already had to do it for the Clan in Glen** (great title for a book, eh?) and tomorrow I’ll have to do it for Daddy, I expect. I suppose really I should invest in a photocopying machine.
If you meet the Clan from Glen don’t mention that only the fact that Brittany Ferries sails once a week to Cork, and I can only do thirty strokes doggy paddle, prevented me from returning home on Monday morning. In my letter to them I emphasised the champagne bit. Otherwise Grandma wouldn’t sleep a wink until I’d arrive home and that certainly wouldn’t do, would it?
Mary, please, please, please write soon and tell me all the news, all the little unimportant bits and pieces (gossip!) because I suppose by this time next week I’ll be very homesick.
Missing you all already,
Tons of love
Catherine
PS Be sure and say hello to all of the family for me and tell your mother to hang onto the coffee-table until you get my next letter at least.
PPS Hi, Sue, if you read this. Please say hello to your family too and everyone else that you know that knows me.
Carrick
Wednesday, 7 September 1983
Dear Cathy,
I was thrilled to bits to get your letter (on Monday). It was actual proof that you were really in Trégunc. All week I kept expecting you to turn up on my doorstep saying that the boat had sunk or gone on fire or … or … Anyway, Kitty there was I still in bed and I heard the pitter-patter of a letter (it rhymes!) on the floor. Me Mammy got all excited and of course I had to get up and read it to her. You should have seen her face: talk about winning the Sweeps.
Anyway, I was delighted everything went okay on the crossing. Tell me one thing. How did you recognise M. et Mme LeClercq? I have pictures of you going around Roscoff tugging at coat sleeves pleading ‘Gabh mo leathscéal, could you tell me if est-ce que vous êtes les LeClercqs?’!
What are the parents’ first names? By the way, I saw Lena this day last week. I was coming down the steps (onto the New Bridge) when I could see her in the distance (as they say in the ad ‘she shines out at you’). She looked gorgeous with a white billowing dress.
Well, anyway, here I am sitting in my room at 12.40 p.m. It’s very dull outside, kinda misty, and just the day for stayin’ in bed (which I did up to half an hour ago). Today is the Abortion Referendum day. Every now and then a car goes past and a loudspeaker hollers, ‘VOTE YES, VOTE YES, VOTE YES’ (maybe it’s stuck). Talking about that, who should come along yesterday as Mam was gardening (well, that’s what she calls it)? Only a friend – or sort of friend – of Martin’s. She was campaigning for abortion!
I needn’t tell you Martin got some teasing when he came home from work.
Oh, by the way, remember me telling you I went for the interview with Walsh & Gilligan, the accountants? They were supposed to give me an answer the following Monday or Tuesday. Monday came – no sign of no one (oh, the grammar!). Tuesday came. At around six o’clock I was giving up when who should come along? Only Mr Walsh. He said they were taking me on (sounds like a boxing challenge, uh?) and he wanted to know if I’d sent away the application to the Regional and for the grant. I was still waiting for the application form for the Regional but I had the grant form. He helped me to fill it in. It had to be in by 5 p.m. the next day. It was too late to post it at that stage so guess what? Martin cycled all the way to Clonmel on Wednesday and handed it in! Thirteen miles each way! (Meanwhile I posted the Regional application.) Anyway, they asked Martin for proof of Da’s earnings (pension books, etc.). I had no way of getting them up on Thursday. Mammy even stopped (hijacked) people on the street but absolutely no one was going to Clonmel (’cos it was Piltown Show Day and they were all going in the opposite direction!). I then had to race from phone box to phone box looking for the VEC phone number – none of them had an intact phone book! I phoned Sue. Her mother answered and gave me the shock of my life. ‘Sue’s in HOSPITAL,’ says she. ‘Wha’?’ says I. Whereupon she proceeded to tell me that Sue was gone in for her eye operation. Phew! Anyway, I phoned again on Monday and Sue herself answered it. She said she felt fine but her eye was sore enough. They tightened the muscle (aaargh!). Just as we were having a good chat someone came along for the phone so I had to ring off with the promise that I’d phone again.
Now, before I proceed any further I must fill you in on what happened that Thursday night. Who should come along on his bike at around half past eight? Only Sue’s brother, Gerard. Mam and I were sitting on the garden seat, whereupon this fella stopped in the middle of the road and stared in. It took me a few seconds to recognise him. I went out to him and we spent ages chatting. People were going out on the town – we were chatting. It turned dark – we were chatting. The stars came out (well, to tell the truth there weren’t many) – we were chatting. People came home from being out on the town – we were still chatting. After chatting about everything under the sun (including YOU), he finally left at around quarter to eleven or so. He sure is easy to talk to, isn’t he? But the funniest thing that happened was, while we were talking, who should pass down? Only some girls from school. When they got to the Kickham’s [pub] they rushed over to Martin, asking who was the gorgeous-looking fella I was seen talking to? (I actually think I climbed up a peg in their esteem!) I’ve been getting strange looks ever since.
Hang on, I’ve got to go eat my din-dins. Be back soon …
How ya? It’s me again. Anyway, to get back to the VEC grant, I finally got a lift up to Clonmel on Friday from Mickey Norris (a neighbour) after me da had twisted his arm. Of course, I missed them when I came out of the Tech and so I decided to do a little exploring around the shops. Well, after all, it’s not every day a culchie like meself gets to explore the metropolis! I went into Mirror Mirror. They’ve got some gorgeous drop-waisted skirts but they’ve also got a lot of junk. You can imagine the cursing when I finally came back to the car – an hour later!
So here I am at the moment waiting for the Regional reply. I don’t feel absolutely 100 per cent sure about accountancy as a career but God knows I’ve got to start somewhere. Oh, by the way (here comes my mother enquiring what the smell is – I sprayed some Impulse to mask the pong of pig slurry wafting in the window from the pig farm up the hill), Sue passed some remark about you being able to go to college when you come back. You know, if she mentions college again, I’ll wilfully throttle her.
I went over town on Monday just as everyone was coming home from school. It felt really funny not to be part of it all. They made me feel about ninety-nine. I saw Miss Nolan. I called into Galvins [bakery]. Anne has finished up her summer job there. I also met Margaret L. Did you know that she was repeating? I stopped to talk to her. She looked really down. You know she got the place in the art college (which is nigh on impossible to get into) but she can’t get the grant ’cos she failed Maths. It’s really tough luck. She got a B in Honours English and all.
Now for the GOSSIP. Ahm. Well. Um. E— has stopped drooling over V— (praise Allah!). I met Wendy on Monday night. She was going to the pictures (Superman – groan!). She’s not doing anything at the moment and she was in a hurry and didn’t say much.
The telly has been good the past few days. Last Monday night week, the James Last concert was on from Tralee. It was ABSOLUTELY FAB. There was a great range of music played – classical, slow and romantic, rock and roll, Irish ballads – even jigs and reels (whereupon the crowd broke into the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7). I really enjoyed it and would have loved to have been in Tralee. While watching I was eating a burger from the Grill. I bit in too hard, knocked out my filling and broke a bit off my tooth. All last week it was cutting the tongue off me and I wath going around the plathe with a thlight lithp. It’s worn down now, though.
We also saw the Rose of Tralee on Tuesday and Wednesday. Miss Carrick won. Her name’s Brenda Hyland, and she was representing Waterford at the Finale. On Sunday, we had the All-Ireland. I really enjoyed the match (or should I say matches – the one between Cork and Kilkenny and the one between Ma and Da?). Ma was for Kilkenny. Every time they scored she’d go dancing around and Da would use profane language and vice versa for Cork. Da kept accusing her of being disloyal to her province of Munster whereupon Ma tried to persuade him that Kilkenny was in Munster (honestly!).
You should have seen us trying to photograph the pussies the other day. Dandy (doggy Walsh) came peeping around. The camera was aimed at him whereupon he cocked his leg! Mammy gave such a roar of laughter that the dog ran for cover! I haven’t seen him since. Listen, I’d better shurrup ’cos I’m running out of paper, inspiration, gossip and immaculate writing. If you don’t write soon I’ll kill you. Write back giving me a blow by blow account of your working (tee-hee) day.
Lots of love,
byeeeeeeee,
from Mary (as if you didn’t know)
PS Oops, I forgot, how’s your French coming along?
PPS Everyone wishes you the best. Byeeeee.
PPPS I got a letter from my penpal in California. She’s getting married in January!
PPPPS When Da saw tons of love written on the end of your letter he started laughing. I asked him what he was laughing for, and me ma wittily replied that he wasn’t used to giving love in tons, only ounces!