Green Milk

This is a curious photograph. It is a postcard, dated September 1972. I was 14 years old.
I attended St. John's National School from 1966 to 1970. I had a marvellous teacher in my final two years there. His name was Frank Mc Gill and I really thrived in his class. I remember him telling us one day in class that milk would soon, no longer be sold in one pint glass bottles, but in plastic containers . We all laughed at the daftness of such an idea and after much hilarity lessons resumed, with a number of us still shaking our heads in genuine disbelief.
At the time we had our milk delivered to the front door of our house. It didn't come in glass bottles. Instead we left out a metal container, on our doorstep, and the delivery boy would empty our measure of milk into it, from his metal can. His can was made from a heavier material. It had a lid, and a carrying handle and was always shining. Our milkman was Petie Harte and he supervised matters from the roadside. That's his delivery cart outside Peebles shop. The large churn can just be seen at the back of his "pony and trap".
Recently, my sister Marie told me that Petie used give her apples and oranges, and sometimes even a spin up as far as Gilmartin's shop, but no further.
My former teacher was proven right of course, but maybe in this age of Green policies, Frank Mc Gill would be foretelling of a return to this, more environmentally friendly way, of delivering local produce.

The House Lights Grow Dim

When I was in my early twenties I met Joe Meehan. Joe, then had built a vast resevoir of knowledge and experience of theatre in Sligo. He had liked some scenes I painted for a school production of The White Horse Inn, and invited me to work on the set for the next production of the Sligo Musical Society.
It was the beginning of an exciting involvement for me as set painter and designer working with Joe, in many productions in the Hawkswell Theatre, Sligo.
Following weeks of effort by us, the house lights in the theatre would grow dim and conversation in the auditorium subsided. There was an air of expectation in the now darkened hall. The curtains opened and an appreciative murmer greeted the scenery. That moment, before a word was spoken onstage, was the moment most savoured by the backstage team.
From my initial, sometimes vague design concept, and together with Joe's store of knowledge and practical experience we had determined the shape the set would eventually take. I remember us planning together for big productions like The Pirates of Penzance, Viva Mexico, My Fair Lady and Where's Charlie. We also also created settings for plays and Summer cabaret shows producing satisfying environments within which the cast could perform, and act out their roles. Another member of our backstage team was Phelim O Doherty, who took responsibility for the construction of the stage scenery and properties. Between us, we also took charge of the movement of scenery on and off the stage between acts so that the pace of the production was maintained. Joe as stage manager, had us, and any co opted stage hands drilled so that we worked like a well oiled machine, most of the time.
In most productions I think I succeeded in producing a set that not just looked right but also one that worked well for the director, the cast, the stage crew as well as the audience. There were some parts, of all of these sets that I liked, but my favourite was the one I did for Guys and Dolls. For some reason eveything came together in it, and by being innovative and confident in our approach we created a set that captured the mood of this great show. Its effectiveness added to the enjoyment of everyone in the theatre, especially me.
I especially loved the planning of a show and discussing with Joe, the design of the set I planned to make. We spent many hours talking about productions in the shop he owned in Grattan Street. His premises is the brown building on the right, Meehan Bros.
This year in our school we are staging Guys and Dolls in the small College Theatre. I am looking forward to this years production and reminiscing on the one I enjoyed so much twenty eight years ago.

Peebles

This is a curious postcard. I don't own it. It is dated 1972 so I was 14.
When I was somewhat younger I seemed to be at the dentist fairly often and my mother used to have to bribe me to go. My reward, on the journey home, was a visit with her to Peebles' shop in 4 Grattan Street. There I could choose from a selection of Matchbox model cars. I loved the boxes the little cars came in nearly as much as the shiny, glossy toy itself. It was a bonus if the doors or bonnet opened or if it was a truck that tipped up its load.
Peebles shop was a very old premises, almost of a bygone age, musty and athmospheric like a Dickensian curiousity shop. In every corner and on every shelf, there were pleasing touches of magic, books, toys, papers and and other items to imbue wonderment.
Billy Peebles, the elderly proprietor, seemed to have the same distinctive character as his shop. He was polite and jolly, bald, short and round-faced. He smiled a lot and always seemed to take delight from selling you the item that was perfect, just for you. He wore round, wire-framed glasses and a printer's apron. The apron, was possibly the last vestige of an era when his family printed a local paper, the Sligo Independent, on the premises.
The promise of a visit to this quaint Aladin's Cave certainly sugarcoated the dentist's visit, and was fair recompense for the discomfort undergone just a little while earlier.