Part 8. Helmets, heroes and hounds!

My mantra has always been “I am not a girly-girl”.  This probably started way back when I was about 4 and wanted to be a boy and would only wear hand-me-down clothes from my older brother, and not clothes from my older sisters (sorry girls but I would never have worn any of your clothes).  I always hated skirts and except for a very brief period in the 80`s where I wore what you wouldn’t really call skirts - maybe ‘long belts’ - sneaked out of the house in a bag and put on in a friend’s house.  My father would have had a fit!  I never did high heels, and with the exception of work, the wilder my hair the better.  This stemmed from having constant helmet-head - all you long haired bikers/racers will know what I mean.

I remember my confirmation suit when I was 12:  mum brought me to a department store to get something special, she kept picking out dresses and I just kept shaking my head.  And then I saw it - a three piece blue safari suit (I know, but remember, 12!).  It came with a jacket, a skirt and pants, something to keep both Mum and me happy.  I wore the skirt for the church bit and the minute that was over, straight back to the house, quick change to pants and off to enjoy the rest of the day.  I’m very sorry there’s no photos of this available – hahaha!

One of the hardest things has been clearing out my wardrobe as lots of my clothes and shoes/boots are not suitable anymore. My nieces were all amazed at how un-lady like and retro my clothes were, and delighted to help themselves.  Take away the suits from work and it was all jeans, shirts, dungarees and denim jackets.  I have kept a few of those and two ball gowns both worn only once (yes I gave in twice and went to the ball like a princess and did not turn into a pumpkin at midnight) . I had my hair cut very short in January and hate it, and just want it long again.  So if you see me in the near future and I am wearing a hat, you will know why.

Neil did not see me in a skirt until the MND made me have to wear them for a while - thank God it’s back to jeans now when we go out.  I am also happy to say I have knitted two jumpers for Neil but you will have to ask him if he is happy to wear them.

I have always loved sport, starting with football - being a Crystal Palace fan since childhood (go the Eagles all you non-believers, yahoo we are staying up).  My brother Andy went to a school where they played rugby so had to cheer on the team even if my brother was not on it.  I have been able to swim all my life as far as I am concerned, as I do not remember learning, and I swam for the Dublin Swimming Club and also the Dundrum Swim Club as well.  My wonderful Uncle Barry was a coach with the Dublin Club and I always loved the training sessions as we got to hang out with our cousins too.  When I was not swimming I was running for Dundrum Athletics and also playing basketball in school - even managing to throw in some Irish dancing too!

God it’s amazing how much energy you have when you’re young…  I think a switch goes off in your head when you hit about 17, or in my case you discover boys, and suddenly need all your spare time to go to clubs etc - so no more running or swimming.

When I got my first job as a commis chef in the Green Isle Hotel the lads used to say “Eimear is the only girl in Dublin with two backs” and all because I dressed in jeans and hand-knit jumpers that did nothing to emphasise my figure.  Yes, I did knit - my guilty secret.  And then when I got my first motorbike, my leather dungarees and leather jacket, they were convinced I was a boy with long hair!

So, as mentioned previously I love soccer, rugby, formula 1, motorbike racing, Tour de France (yes I know about the drugs, but having driven one of the stages in a car I’m amazed that they’re not all on drugs!), GAA, and nowadays I am happy to add Hot Rod Racing to the list.  I have been to lots of Isle of Man TT races and I have marshalled motorbike racing at Mondello Park.  I have been to Selhurst Park to watch the Eagles and have been in the stands and shouted at the TV for lots of other football, rugby and GAA matches. I have never been to a Grand Prix but would rather watch on TV, though I am happy to say I have been to watch National Hot Rods in Tipperary, Northern Ireland, Scotland and England.  I still get up at silly o’clock to watch the Grands Prix live and am looking forward to the football world cup in Brazil. I also hope to get back to Northern Ireland soon to watch some more Hot Rod racing.

My hero is Joey Dunlop:  a hero to me not just because he was a brilliant bike rider and racer, but because of what he did out of race season.  He would fill his truck with medical supplies and food (most of which he bought himself) and drive across Europe to orphanages in Romania and other eastern block countries, and never spoke about this side of his life.  That to me is a hero.

I had the pleasure of watching Joey race and win many times, and the great pleasure of meeting him on the ferry from the Isle of Man to Belfast.  He was so nice and easy to talk to, we had a great laugh, and from that time to this I have had a photo of me and Joey on my bed-side locker.  This must be getting on for about 25 years now - it might seem a bit strange to some of you but perfectly normal to me.  Maybe there is some girl out there now who has a photo of her and her favourite Hot Rod driver on her bed side locker?  You never know…

I'm posting a scan of the very "bedside photo" of me and Joey in my Facebook group - and just to kill two birds with one stone, I knitted the jumper I'm wearing in the picture!

I have been playing Fantasy Premier League Football for the past 3 years and was so happy this year when I was able to put Crystal Palace down as my favourite football team.  I am doing crap again this season, never seem to pick the right captain, but just you wait:  one of these years I will beat you Frank the Dog (Neil’s team!). I play Fantasy Hot Rods too on Neil’s Hot Rod website, and have to say am not doing much better on that either this year!  Come on Chris Haird, you have been my Captain all year - I need some wins please.  The Super Six game where you predict football match results is going a little better, but I am never in any danger of winning the jackpot any week.

Maybe if there was a Fantasy Scuba Diver league or Fantasy Knitting league, I would do better.

Something else which most of you may not know; I spent most of my life terrified of dogs – big, small, did not matter.  I would never go near a dog and would walk miles out of my way to avoid one, cowering like a child if a dog came within 10 feet of me.  This was a fear that goes all the way back to a winter in the 1970`s when I was a small girl and an alsatian dog attacked me, and only for my heavy winter coat I would have been torn to shreds.  So my fear was not some random thing.

So now we get to Frank the Dog and how he ended up living in my house…

So I met Neil, thought “he’s okay I’ll have some of that”, and then found out he had a dog!  Well our friendship nearly only lasted about an hour.  Neil had to very slowly help me get over my fear, and with his help I was finally able to pet a dog and allow him to come near me.  I have never let Frank lick me and never will, and I will never put anything into his mouth…all those teeth, far too scary.  My family were all amazed when Neil moved in not because a man was moving in, but because I was letting a dog in the house.  This was something that took all my brothers and sisters by surprise - Catherine did not quite believe it until she came home from Australia for Christmas last year and saw Frank the Dog for real.  All my family have been heard singing at some stage “it must be love love love”.  How right they are!  If you're not too squeamish there's a picture of mine and Neil's first "selfie" in early July 2011 in my Facebook group.

More soon...

Ciao!

Eimear X

Part 7. Working my way round the world...

Work - well, where do I start?  And I must say before I go on I have always loved my job.  I finished school when I was 17 and, having not liked it, did not want to go to college for more.  I had always loved cooking with my mother and have to say I learned so much from her, so it was decided that I would become a chef; a decision made between me and my dad.  He had lots of contacts in hotels being a foreman in a mechanical services company which did all the maintenance in PV Doyle’s Hotels.


I started my working life in The Green Isle Hotel under the guidance of Kenny Egan’s dad Paul.  On my third day a little man with a moustache came into the kitchen and said “Hello”, shook my hand and welcomed me to the job.  I had no idea who he was but it led to no-one speaking to me for weeks believing I was a plant, as it turned out it was PV Doyle himself!  I was the first girl to ever work in the kitchen who was not washing dishes, as my industry is full of men who think they know best.  Dream on, men!   No, I am not a raving feminist but women can be chefs too.


I went to college on a day-release basis every Thursday in term and did my City and Guilds of London exams.  When I was finished my training I got this mad idea to go to London; I do not know where it came from, I was 20 years old and knew no-one in London except my mum’s sister Lulu and her husband Dave - a lovely Yorkshire man.  I wrote letters to all the “posh” (remember I was 20) hotels and the Hyde Park Hotel wrote back and offered me a live-in job.  Bonus accommodation too, yahoo, I was sorted.  My dad travelled over with me to make sure all was okay and left after 3 days.  As a girl I was of course put in the pastry section along with all the other girls, only male chefs were allowed in any other part of the kitchen.  A German head chef and French sous chef meant fun times with communication…  I stuck it out for a month but realised it was not for me as I was never going to be allowed to work in any other parts of the kitchen.


As I am a female who does not know her place, I jacked it in and went looking for work.  I got a job in a pub-restaurant called The Shakespeare’s Head on Carnaby Street, which also came with accommodation so I was sorted again.  This London thing was proving to be so easy!  I worked there for the best part of a year, made some friends, and was basically having a great time - single girls about town!


After this year I decided to give working behind a bar a go, and with the help of a friend I got a job in a bar on Brewer street - and boy were my eyes opened to a completely different London…  Some of our clients were the girls who worked in the strip clubs and all were a great laugh.  Some clients were the owners or (a better word I am not afraid to say now) pimps.  And what a bunch of seedy weirdos they were - always offering me work, no thanks mate, I’m happy here.  It was a hell of an education but also great fun and I really enjoyed it.  Had my dad known any of this he would have been over on the first plane to take me home!


My London adventure had to come to an end as it was my turn to go home and help look after mum so that my sister Catherine could have a London adventure of her own:  Kew Gardens for her as she was working as a horticulturist.  Just so you all know, and not dwelling on it, Mum had early-onset  Alzheimer’s disease which she had from some time in her very late 40`s or early 50`s - we will never know.


Once home I secured a job with a corporate catering company as I liked the hours: 7 to 3, Monday to Friday, I could finally have a social life that did not happen on a Monday or Tuesday.  My more mature head also decided I could go back to college and get a degree in management by night, and I have to say I loved every minute of the experience.  I even got really sensible and started saving money.  My father was prompted one Sunday to ask “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?  You are far too sensible to be her.”


Around this time I entered a chef’s competition – and won!  And it was none other than Jack Charlton who presented the awards and I’m posting a picture of me with the footballing legend on in my Facebook Group page. 


The only un-sensible part of me was the girl inside who loved motorbikes, and by the time I was ready to leave Ireland again I had worked my way up to a 350cc - all the better to mess with my poor dad’s nerves.  Can't find a picture of this bike, but I'm posting a photo of me with a previous bike on my Facebook Group page.


I spotted an advert one day in the newspaper for a Green Card Lottery for visas to America.  Yes please, I’ll have a go at that!  You needed to have a job to go along with your application and so I contacted my cousin Frank in Boston who got his Catholic priest-friend to give me a letter saying I was going to Boston to be his housekeeper.  As if!


The interview process was terrifying and you had to have a medical done which included an AIDS test.  There was no way I had it, but by the time the test came around I believed I had caught it off someone who sat beside me on the bus into the city… the worst thing was you did not know the results.  People were refused their visas on medical grounds and found out that way – mad, but who was going to argue with Uncle Sam?  Obviously I was granted my visa and off I went to New York in the pursuit of a job.


Well what an adventure my first NY job turned out to be.  I was working for an Irish bloke called Joe Burke who had a string of gourmet delis around Manhattan.  But little did we know he was always one step ahead of the taxman - some crazy stuff went on and I left there having learnt how not to do business. That is where I first met Robert Doyle (the man who never sleeps unless it’s at a night club), the best boss I ever had who became a friend - and we are still friends today.  I also ran in to Lorna Masterson whose sister I knew well and we are still solid friends today and always will be.


So I then got a job with a corporate catering group, again, handy hours Monday to Friday, and worked for them for about 2 years - going out every weekend drinking a variety of drinks…I loved Appletinis, shaken or stirred, I didn’t care!  On Sundays I used to go to a diner in Tribeca where after a few months I got on first name terms with Harvey Keitel which was very exciting for me.  I had lots of visitors from Ireland, and believe it or not I got fed up going up the Empire State building.  One thing I am glad about is that I have a lovely photo of me and dad on top of the World Trade Centre.


My family loved my trips home at Christmas as I always went mad buying presents - everything was so cheap, Levis $15 etc. Some of my nieces had lots of baby Dior clothes, it sounds so pretentious now.  I loved the shopping in NY and up to the beginning of last year went back every year at least once with empty suitcases to do more shopping.


I stayed in NY for 8 years working away and loving the night life.  Great restaurants, great bars, and the fact they loved the Irish - every March 17 we had to get pissed, it was a rule, and I swear the Yanks would say on that day only, “Look at that cute drunk Irish person!”  And we never wore green on March 17; we did not have to as we were 100% guaranteed Irish!


Some time in 1998 I got this mad idea to go to Australia and that was probably the most complicated visa application I think in the history of visas.  They wanted to know what subjects I studied in primary school - who remembers that shit?  So much made-up stuff ended up on the form.  But I was a shoe-in as my sister and brother were already Aussie citizens, so at the end of 1998 I made the long flight from New York to Brisbane.  The flight took 21 hours; now maybe you can help me figure out a puzzle no one has ever come up with a good answer for:  we left on Wednesday morning at 9am and arrived in Oz on Friday afternoon having only been in the air for 21 hours - what the hell happened to Thursday?


I was suddenly in a country where everything was okay next week, having just come from somewhere everyone wanted everything yesterday - it was mad!  I was convinced they were all on Prozac and swore every week “I am going back to NY; this is far too laid back for me”.  But then I discovered the ocean (as written about in a previous blog) and my life was changed forever.


Doing laundry was such a pleasure in Oz as your clothes dried in 25 minutes.  It was mad; you could not leave a thing on the line too long as the sun would bleach your clothes.  Something no-one told me about, and to me this was a very big oversight and was very important to intending immigrants - information needed to make up your mind as to whether or not you wanted to live in Oz.


Magpies:  the most aggressive ones in the world live in Australia, along with most dangerous snakes and spiders. I was cycling along one day minding my own business and a woman passed me pushing a buggy waving a branch over her head, and I thought maybe she was away with the fairies!  Next thing I am on the ground, something had hit me on the head - thank God I was wearing a helmet.  I was sure it must have been a branch or something but a woman came along helped me up and told me it was the magpies marking their territory, and if I wanted to cycle at this time of year I would need to wave a branch!  Well, needless to say the bike was put away for a few months as there was no fear of me ever doing anything like that.  Wave a branch, I ask you?


I spent almost every weekend in the ocean diving and saw the most amazing things.  After 4 years I decided it was time to go back to New York, but not before taking out Australian citizenship (just in case).   Not long after I got there 9/11 occurred; no need to go into that but it was a very bad time for all New Yorkers of many different nationalities.


Working again for a big company I ended up managing a restaurant in the Met Life Building so back to crazy hours but bonus:  we did not open Saturday night or Sunday – yahoo - social life!  And boy did we have fun: lots of different bars, and once a month a big gang of us would go to a different restaurant and spend the night making the drinks bill 3 times that of the food…but hey, we had fun.


Eventually life brought me back home where I was part of a team who helped to open (and work in for a while) Gary Rhodes' first restaurant in Ireland. I decided the long days and late nights were not for me any longer and ended up working for a corporate catering company as a manager - where I stayed until I could no longer work.  Also at weekends all this time I did work in a children’s hospital preparing meals for special diets and Bolus feeds for all wards.  I loved this work and it was a great way to put life in perspective that whatever problems you thought you had, nothing could be as bad as a sick child.


Little did I know then, that I would end up in Beaumont Hospital last week for an operation to have a PEG feed tube inserted into my own tummy which will be used for Bolus feeds for me when I can no longer swallow…  It’s like having a new, second belly button!  How funny life is.


Sorry this one has gone on and on a bit - but sue me, I had a lot of jobs!


More soon, take care and thanks for reading as always.


Ciao!


Eimear X