Memories in the Rubble

Angela O'Looney

As I drive my bus past the huge space where the French Mullen block of Charlemont Street flats stood, I find I still get a lump in my throat. This is where my good friend Jackie used to live!

I was starting my secondary school education when I first met Jackie, who I still keep in touch with to this day. I remember the excitement of beginning in the lofty second level section of my convent school, where I had attended since the age of five.

The first day, I was sporting a new pair of snow white sneakers, my brand new pleated navy skirt and white blouse, the royal blue jumper and blazer with the smart crest on the pocket. I was so proud and pleased with myself. My friend Angie was with me as we gathered in the school hall for the first assembly.

So many happy, frustrating and sad experiences followed during my three years preparation for the Intermediate Certificate exams, or nowadays better known as Junior Certificate.

Angie and I were not going to the same classroom, since I had chosen to study Art and French for my exams. However, we were next door to each other and often got together after school. I remember being a little uneasy with the collection of new girls which had arrived in the school from a nearby primary school that didn’t extend to second level education.

There were some ruffians among them, but most were friendly and fun. I remember how I found school something to look forward to in those first few years of secondary. Jackie was someone I looked up to. She excelled at sport, was an amazing writer of compositions and was generally upbeat and fun to be around. She palled around with a cheeky girl named Deirdre.

I looked up to the girls and followed them around like a puppy dog, wanting to impress them. The popular TV programme of the day at the time we began secondary school was the detective series Starsky and Hutch and I remember so well how Jackie adored Starsky. I somehow enjoyed the banter that would go on in class about the crazy New York duo who solved crime in a totally unique, but risky style that impressed all the teenage girls.

During summer holidays, I remember somehow meeting up with Jackie, Deirdre and another girl who hung around with them called Marie. We connected and for the entire summer of 1978 I would spend each day either sunning myself in St. Stephens Green with my new friends, or walking around boutiques, record shops and Woolworths in Grafton Street, sometimes even getting chased by the security man for nicking a handful of sweets from the delicious pick and mix section of the store.

Those were halcyon days, with each of us dreaming of getting a job and having regular boyfriends and a future to look forward to. We would talk, sing popular songs as we strolled in the evenings along the canals enjoying freedom and generally make nuisances of ourselves around our favourite haunts such as Leonard’s corner, St. Vincent’s flats where there was a playground to mess around or just sitting on garden walls giggling and fantasizing about local boys we liked.

I still saw Angie from time to time but we drifted apart a little during the time I was being a cool rebel. Being around Deirdre was fun, but she was a daredevil and over a period of about a year, I discovered that her agenda was mainly to put herself about as much as possible where teenage boys were concerned. It took a few close encounters with gangs who had cider parties and presumed us older than we were, for me to realize I would end up regretting doing the stuff Deirdre felt quite happy doing to prove she was grown up, in order to defy her parents. So, I parted company with her and Marie.

I was surprised and delighted that at some point, Jackie also saw the light. She and I became friends and shared many interests, including a love of ballroom dancing and the determination to do well in our exams.

Years went by and I went on to become a bus driver, while Jackie had lots of interesting and exciting careers, including being a rep for a travel company. Once when she was working and living in Spain, I happened upon her in a bar and although I was with my sister on holidays, we got to dine with her and had a lovely time catching up.

I remember as a young teen, I spent many Saturday nights during my friendship with Jackie, staying at her parent’s flat after we would go to the disco around the corner known as the Television Club. And that time in Spain we laughed at those memories together. We also reminisced about concerts we managed to smuggle our way into without tickets.

Only a few years ago, Angie and I met up to see if we could resurrect our friendship and it extended to a get together with some of our old school friends. We began to have regular school reunions. And on an occasion when Jackie was traveling on my bus, I mentioned to her that she might enjoy one of these nights out. She gave me her number and not long after, she came to one.

Angie and Jackie wouldn’t have known each other while we were at school. Yet at the reunion, they hit it off and since then, the three of us built up a very special new bond. This is a three way friendship where we often pour out our troubles, drink to our memories, or celebrate birthdays together.

So, even though I know that Jackie and her family are happily residing in better and classier housing than the little flat in French Mullen house, I think of it each time I pass and send up a secret prayer for the friends we made and lost. I thank God for our friendship and the memories!