Linda Mooney

"Fat Harry said 'When we came to this house, we got the same cups & saucers you use. Other houses keep special cups for binmen.' "

The Story

When my grandmother died I was only 12 years old. At the funeral I was in charge of the door. My mother told me that I would know most of the guests and to bring them into the sitting room and make them welcome.

My View

In the '50s in Belfast, one of the things that determined how clean a house you kept was the state of your bin. We kept a clean bin and we were popular with the binmen. The binmen came to our house every Thursday to have a cup of tea.

On a good day they'd come into the yard to drink the tea. On a bad day they'd come inside. A silver tray was used and tea, biscuits and sometimes pancakes were offered.

The driver was the supervisor - he didn't lift the bins but he decided which houses were the 'tea houses'.

Linda's husband also contributed to Days Like This. Visit Malachy's page and listen to his story...

The story continues...

Linda tells us more of this event...

My granny died the year of the big snow in the early 60s. The ground was frozen solid making it impossible for the gravediggers to work so we had to keep her at home longer than usual. In those days that was no bother, we had no central heating, no double glazing and the back bedroom, in which she was laid out, was like a fridge at the best of times never mind when Belfast was under what seemed to us children to be 10 feet of snow. The extended wake made great demands on my aunts, as they had to keep on making sandwiches and tea for the mourners. The neighbours rallied round and loaned tea sets and extra teapots. One lady was overheard to say that it was as well the wake was on otherwise life would have been very dull with the buses off and nowhere to go because of the snow.

After some days the thaw came and my granny's funeral was able to go ahead. The men had to practically wade through the slush and the cemetery was a muckheap of red Belfast clay. I have a clear memory of mud caked shoes lined up on newspapers in our hall as one of my aunts stationed herself at the front door and made the returning mourners remove their shoes before they were admitted to the warmth of the kitchen and a reviving hot cup of tea, or something stronger.

During the big freeze my uncle was admitted to the City Hospital and we took it in turns to go and visit him. We had to walk from the Falls Road, down Broadway Road, along the lower Donegal Road, across the railway bridge and into the hospital.
I'll never forget that journey. I felt like we were Artic explorers. The snow as banked up high on either side of us and we each carried a long stick to prod the ground to make sure we didn't fall into any holes. The snow beneath our feet was deep and we sank into it. It was an exhausting walk. I remember the bridge in particular. The snow as so deep you couldn't see where the end was and my brother walked in front like a pathfinder. When we got to the ward we were the only visitors, no one else had been brave enough (or daft enough) to face the weather. It was worth it though. The nurses treated us like heroes and made us tea and toast and gave us warm socks to put over our gloves before we set off home again. My uncle was delighted to see us and to get all the news of the extended wake.

I really missed my granny. She had lived with us and had been a constant presence in my life. One of the things I had loved best had been to cuddle up beside her in bed. She slept in the back attic bedroom in a big bed with a real feather mattress. When you got in the mattress sank down and moulded itself around you. It was like lying in the middle of a big white cloud. At night you could lie and look up at the stars and sometimes the moon, through the skylight window. That bedroom was magic.

One day about 2 months after the funeral my mother took me up to that attic room, sat on the bed with me and asked if I'd like this room as my very own. It would be papered and painted and I could pick the paper and the paint. I'd have a brand new single bed but I could keep any other furniture I wanted. My granny had left me the best present ever; she'd left me her room.


Linda Mooney - May 2007

Comments

Name: Gary Ray Betz
Date: 28/03/08
Comment: What an eloquent conveyance of your poignant memory!!! I was truly heartened to become a better man after hearing it. I live in Atlanta, Georgia in the United States and so much want to visit Northern Ireland one day if there is only just one more wonderful person like you, your grandmother, your mother, and of course the perspicacious bin men. Thank-you so very much, hearing your story meant so very much to me...sincerely, it did.

Name:
Date: 25/03/2008
Comment: This brings back do many memories of the kindliness of the people of the Falls Road in those days. A real Christian asmosphere existed whch is still alive in some people. I think "respect for others" and not so much attention paid to their situation in life was the attitude. Thank you Linda for reminding us of what life was like then.



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