From Bray to Eternity Read online

  I think about eight or nine couples took vows that day, all with their own particular reason for doing so. But thirty-two years after taking our first vows I was determined to prove that old Sinatra classic right: “love is lovelier the second time around” and so it turned out to be. More loving, more passionate, more caring and probably most important of all, we became closer, much closer than we had ever been, two truly did become one. And we were much more considerate of the feelings of each other. When we came out of the church we bought a few bottles of Cana wedding wine and that night toasted our new beginning.

  Two days after taking our vows we left Tel Aviv for Dublin, a different couple from the one that had departed ten days earlier. We were once more Andy and Annette, the young lovers from the Sixties.

  When we arrived into Dublin airport to our surprise we were met by a group of reporters, wanting to question us about our adventure in the Holy Land. That night in the Evening Herald there was a big picture of Annette and me, with the caption “Pilgrims of Terror”. It is now hanging on the wall at home. But for us the real story of that holiday was not the fact that we had come under fire from the warring factions, been terrorised and sent packing at gun point from our hotel. It was that we had put our problems behind us for good and were once more as madly in love as we had been at the start of our marriage.

  The new millennium was a good time for marriage in the Halpin household, over the next few years all our children got married and fled the coup, leaving the two “newly-weds” free to be as luvvie dovey as they liked, and we were. Things could not have been better. Annette started driving and set up a little business working from home as a personal development and community development consultant. She was putting all the knowledge and experience she had gained while working in the community in Tallaght to good use. And when she started driving, principally because I was too lazy to do so, we were able to get down to Dingle quicker and more often.

  Besides being a great place for us, Dingle also proved to be a blessing for Annette’s mother Mary. Unfortunately in the early 2000s Mary started showing symptoms of dementia. This resulted in her not being able to go on sun holidays with her women friends, something she had done for years and loved. So Annette took her to Dingle for a week each year and she loved it down there, relaxing on the beach at Bin Bann and listening to the music in the bars in town at night.

  Just one last mention of our troubles in Majorca – later on when we could laugh about it, and we did, Annette told me that she had learned that the girl was a lesbian.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It was around this time that Annette started to learn to drive. She started with a car jointly owned by herself and Gina. Unfortunately Gina wrote that car off, by skidding on black ice on the Lucan Road one St. Stephan’s Day. She was very lucky and wasn’t injured and Annette then got herself a little red Citroën AX which she loved to drive. We made many a trip to Dingle in that car. In 2004, Annette drove that little Citroën in the country of its origin, France.

  Dingle was still a firm favourite with us and now that Annette was driving it was that much easier to get there, with no more lugging heavy haversacks and bags on train and bus journeys. We just threw the bedding into the back of the car and headed off, footloose and fancy free. They were good times for us, and Annette loved the freedom of the mobile. As she used to say, it was clutter free, not like home.

  By this time Annette had also started her own business as a community consultant. At last she was getting paid for a job she had been doing for years for nothing. But Annette being Annette, she felt odd charging groups for her services and advice because she had been giving it all for free for so long. She very often charged less than the rate she was entitled to charge if she felt the group did not have much money or was deserving of her time and experience. As a result of this habit she never made as much money as she could have made had she been less sensitive to the needs of others. In reality her business was little more than a hobby she enjoyed which earned her pocket money. She was happy with that, as money had never been a motivating factor for Annette, which was just as well for me as I never had very much money. She just wanted to help those she felt could benefit from her experience and improve their position in life. In this regard she felt very much for those she believed were marginalised or discriminated against in society and enjoyed working with groups such as the Traveller women’ s groups whom she had a great respect for. Indeed she composed a song, “Everyone” which, after it was performed by a Traveller choir at her memorial show after her passing became very popular with Travellers thanks to its promotion by Fr. Derek Farrell, who is the Parish Priest to the Traveller Parish and a good friend of Annette’s

  Our trips to Dingle became very important to us as we could be truly ourselves down there. As Annette wrote in one of her songs: ‘it doesn’t matter if the Sun don’t shine, if it doesn’t shine most of the time, I’ll be happy just sitting, and singing with the one I love.’

  That’s exactly the way it was for us in Dingle, rain or shine, it didn’t matter. Some of the most pleasurable moments we spent there were when we were holding each other in the little double bed, as the candles Annette always lit in the bedroom flickered, their flame heating the perfumed oils which filled the room with a pleasant aroma, while the rain beat out a tattoo on the tin roof of the mobile. As I write these words I can visualise the scene through my tears, the loss of such moments is heart-breaking. That’s what Dingle meant to us, a place where we could let our passions run free and be one in body and soul.

  There was also the more simple and public pleasures that we indulged in. We took great pleasure walking into town and having a meal in Maura de Barra’s (later John Benny Moriarty’s) on the evening of our arrival. We made a point of having a meal in a more upmarket restaurant as well on one night of our stay. In this way we came across The Global Village, which became a favourite of ours, and as we became familiar faces there, we were always made very welcome by Nuala and her staff.

  In our first year in Dingle we had bought two second-hand bikes in Foxey Johns and used them to cycle all around the area. Annette loved to cycle to Ventry and walk on the beach and then have refreshments in the Ventry Inn, looking out at the sea. One fine day we cycled all around the Slea Head scenic route, stopping at Ballyferriter and the beach from Ryan’s Daughter along the way. At night we loved to listen to the music of Eoin Duignan, John Browne or Michael O’Herliahy or indeed any of the great musicians who played in Maria de Barras/John Benny’s or the Droichead Beag, which were the places we usually went to.

  Our time in Dingle is something I often think about now, and, if I was a praying person, I would thank God for it, because at the time it came to us, it truly was a godsend. Over the ten years we were there our love reached depths (maybe heights is more appropriate) of emotion I did not think possible. But those times are gone now and I won’t be keeping the mobile after this year. I’ll go down once or twice more to cry alone for the loss I have suffered. I’ll look into the little bedroom and remember our happy times. And just maybe if I wish hard enough the veil of time will lift and I’ll see once more, two lovers lost in a passionate embrace.

  Dingle is over for me now. The mobile served its purpose; we could not have asked for more from that old “Bohan”. It more than gave value for the price we paid for it. In fact it was priceless, and I’m so glad now we took the chance and made the long journey from Dublin to Dingle, because in reality that journey was part of the journey of our life and love which started in Bray in 1965. I could not stand the pain and the loneliness of being in Dingle without Annette. Dingle was somewhere we found ourselves again, I would be lost if I went there alone.

  In 2002 I lost my job in HB ice cream after almost nineteen years when the place closed. The van sales section in which I’d worked was franchised out to another company. I was not too concerned as I was then gone fifty-seven years of age and was getting tired of work anyway. I was able to avail of a fairly go
od redundancy/early retirement package which included a pension, so money was not a big problem particularly as all the children were now self-sufficient. As a matter of fact, David and Robert were no longer living at home and Gina only intermittently. Annette was also still earning a bit from her consultancy work.

  With the redundancy money we planned to travel a bit and to also spend more time in Dingle. That year we went to Dingle for the Dingle Races as well as a few more times when Annette had no work on. Later in the year, near Christmas we went to Lake Garda in Italy. It was a trip we thoroughly enjoyed as the town of Riva was bedecked with Christmas lights and was like something out of a fairy tale. We stayed at the Hotel Liberty and met some very nice people. We took trips to Venice and Verona where we visited the alleged home of Juliet. I risked life and limb to climb the wall of the house and leave a love letter to Annette, as was the custom of lovers to ensure lasting love. I was never going to be complacent about our relationship again and was ready to accept help from all sources to make sure it continued, especially from such famous lovers as Romeo and Juliet.

  Retirement suited me and I relaxed into it quite easily and not for one moment did I miss the monotony of the daily chore of work. I always had liked cooking, so after Christmas 2002 I enrolled in a catering course run by Cert and learned a few new recipes which I tried out on Annette. Unfortunately Annette, as in so many other ways, was very conservative when it came to food and did not appreciate my adventurous style of cooking, so I ended up putting on weight as I finished what Annette left on her plate, I could not get enough of my own cooking.

  Our relationship continued on an upward trajectory into 2003. We planned another holiday to Italy for June, after our son Robert got married. For the past year or so Robert had been living with his girlfriend Fiona Farrell in a house they had bought on the other side of Tallaght. After the wedding which was celebrated in the Green Isle Hotel we set off for Italy, visiting Naples, Sorrento, San Giovanni and Capri. Again things could not have been better and we enjoyed our time together, particularly when we found a lovely open air bar and restaurant in Sorrento with a little dance band. It was very reminiscent of the old Shangri-La, all those years ago in Dalkey. Every night after dinner in our hotel we were very anti-social and slipped away from the group we were with to be on our own. We danced under the stars in the warm Italian night air until midnight. When the band put away their instruments we strolled back to our hotel, arm in arm, to enjoy a night cap with any of our group who were still up. And not content with that, we usually had another night cap on our balcony when we got back to our room, and I do mean an alcoholic night cap, as this particular balcony was quite small and was overlooked.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Coming up to Christmas 2003 I saw an advertisement in a newspaper looking for “mature couriers” to work on a holiday camp in France for the 2004 season. My noticing this ad was to lead us into one of the happiest periods of our life together. I showed the ad to Annette and asked her would she be interested in applying for the job. I was still unemployed but Annette was still doing some consultancy work on a part-time basis. If we got this job it would necessitate her dropping her job for a while. It would not be a major problem as most of the groups Annette worked with broke up for the summer anyway, and there would be very little work between the end of May and the middle of September, which basically was the holiday season in France. After a short discussion we decided to apply for the job. A few days after Christmas we were invited to attend an interview in the Ormonde Hotel near Capel Street.

  We went to the interview and learned the job was on a caravan park somewhere in France, the exact location would not be divulged until we got there as the company, Kelair travel, also known as Campotel, had a number of sites, stretching from Brittany to Biarritz in the south of France. After training in a camp in Les Sables d’Olonne in the Vendee region sites would be allocated. We were easy with that as no matter where we were sent it would all be new to us and we did not know one site from another anyway.

  A short time after the interview we were informed we were successful and the training would start in the middle of May for a camp opening on the 5th of June. We accepted the position and proceeded to inform our family and friends of our plans for the summer. Some of them thought we were mad setting off on such a venture at our age, but more of them admired our courage and wished they had the nerve to do such a thing themselves. We’d always liked doing something different and looked forward to the experience. There was only one niggling little worry. Annette had not been driving for long and had only recently passed her driving test, so the prospect of driving in France on the “wrong” side of the road and negotiating roundabouts from the “wrong” side was a bit of a concern. But fair dues to her, she was prepared to give it a go.

  We had a big surprise before we left for France when Gina told us she was pregnant. She had been seeing a fellow for a while but we did not think it was anything serious, she had been with fellows before and nothing came of it. But this was obviously different. With this news Annette became a bit anxious about going to France as she felt she should be there for Gina. I think she was remembering her own pregnancy with David and the fact that her own mother had to go back to work after the death of her father. But Gina insisted that we go to France. Anyway she wanted to move back into our house to save on rent so that she and her boyfriend David could save for the house they were hoping to buy. The fact that we were going to France was perfect timing for her and before we went she had moved back home.

  Around the middle of May we packed our bags and headed down to Rosslare to catch the ferry to Cherbourg. We embarked on our new careers as “mature couriers” to, we hoped, mature holiday-makers somewhere in France.

  On the ship we met up with another couple who were also going to work for Kelair and who had been in France before. As the male of this couple, whose names I now do not remember, had driven in France before it was agreed that we would let them lead the way.

  We reached Cherbourg the following evening and decided that rather than starting to drive into the night we would stay in a B&B and set off early the next morning. At about nine o’clock the next morning Annette sat behind the wheel of her red Citroën, with me beside her. I had a map of France spread out on my lap, as she intoned a prayer for divine help on our journey. We set off across France without knowing where our final destination was going to be.

  As we drove along behind our leaders, I was trying to keep tabs on where we were according to the map on my lap. After we’d been driving for an hour or so the names of the towns and villages on my map differed from the places we were passing through. I did not say anything to Annette at first, but as we continued to drive past and through places that were not on the map I had to say something. I told Annette that the places we were passing through were not on the route we were supposed to be taking. She would not believe me. She said I was reading the map incorrectly, that the other couple had been here before and knew the way.

  For the next while I continued to ask Annette to signal the couple in front to stop, so we could check the map, but to no avail as Annette felt I was wrong. That is until we came upon a road sign pointing to Le Havre which was in the opposite direction to where we should have been going. At this point I insisted that Annette signal the other couple to stop. They had also noticed the sign for Le Havre and were in the process of stopping anyway.

  We checked the map and found we had taken a wrong turn at a roundabout shortly after leaving Cherbourg which set us in a completely different direction to where we should have being going. We had been driving for about three hours in the wrong direction, a great start to our time in France. We spent the next fifteen minutes trying to decide how best to get back on track before coming to the conclusion that we only had one option. We would have to drive across the country towards Rennes and get on the motorway to Nantes and from there to Les Sables D’Olonne. We had estimated a journey time of about six or seven hours from Cherbo
urg but now that was going to be considerably longer. Our worry was that we would not get to the camp outside Les Sables D’Olonne before dark.

  We drove like the hammers of hell, and, fair dues to Annette, she passed her introduction to driving on the Continent with flying colours. She joked later that because the car was French it knew the roads and all she had to do was hold onto the wheel. It was a pity it did not know the roads when we left Cherbourg.

  After a hectic day’s driving we made the camp, shortly before ten that night. We were just in time to get into a local restaurant where a table had been reserved for us by Kelair, when we had contacted them during the day and told them of our predicament. After a very long and tiring day, especially for Annette, we were only too happy to sit down and sample real French cooking for the first time, all washed down with a couple of bottles of good red wine.

  The next day we started our training. It consisted of learning how to clean barbecues, put on duvets and clean mobile homes, so nothing new there. After a week or so of this we were allocated our site for the season. We were sent to Camp le Littoral which was just on the other side of Les Sables, near Port Bourgenay. It was a really lovely camp site, in a lovely location, right on the coast as the name suggested.

  The time we spent in Le Littoral near Sables d’Olonne was one of the happiest periods of our life. We were like teenagers again. The freedom was exhilarating and we made full use of it. After an initial period of hard work, while we got the chalets ready for clients, we had a lot of spare time as we only had ten chalets to look after. We also met and became friends with two other “mature” couples on the site who were working for other holiday companies. Carol and Tim Green and Ann and Tony Leggit became firm friends over the four month season. We enjoyed some great nights together when we drank and sang well into the night. On one occasion we had to be asked to be quiet by the clients in the chalets as we, “the mature couriers,” were keeping the paying customers awake. Annette had brought her guitar and she became a very popular turn at these courier get-together sessions. From time-to-time we were joined by some of the clients who found our brand of entertainment preferable to what was on offer in the camp bar. Indeed one night, near the end of the season, Gasper, the owner of the camp site and his partner Annloue came across to our pitch which was directly across from the camp bar. They joined in the fun and stayed until the early hours of the morning.