A white Christmas in Mayo in 1964 and others recalled | Connaught ...

By Tom Gillespie

CHRISTMAS is always a time for family and children. It is a joyous and also a sad time. Joyous as we celebrate the birth of Jesus with family and friends and sad as we remember those who have departed this earth in the past 12 months.

Thinking of Christmas and the visit of Santa reminds me of the first Christmas I can recall when the man in the red suit and white beard delivered presents to our home at number 4, Spencer Street, Castlebar.

It must have been up to 70 years ago when I was three or four years old and I can still see the red, square tin truck that he left under the Christmas tree.

By any standards it was a health and safety hazard with sharp corners that could inflict serious injures to a child.

But it was my prize possession and I got hours of pleasure from it.

They were times when little was expected from Santa. Yes, we had the obligatory Christmas stocking - a heavy knitted fishing sock from my father’s wardrobe, hung on the mantlepiece over the fire. To get a few items in it was a thrill - some fruit, a treat in those days, a dinky or two, comic annuals and a selection of sweets.

Television, then, was a long way off. So on Christmas night we visited my grandmother Katherine and uncles Tommy, Alfie and Bernie Gillespie in Creagh Villa - now the headquarters of Lough Lannagh Village. We were joined by another uncle, blacksmith and master angler Denny Fahy, and his mother, my other grandmother, Sarah Fahey.

Stories were told, songs sung and you had to do your party piece when summoned.

But for us children, including John and Francis Bourke from St. Patrick’s Avenue, there were more presents to open and I got the job as ‘barman’ and the task of opening bottles of stout and making hot whiskey using the Teachers brand.

And speaking of hot whiskeys, Tommy Gillespie liked a double hot one. But he was forever at odds with the barmen in one of his locals, the Travellers Friend Hotel, as to why they would charge him the price of two hot ones even though they only had to boil the kettle once.

But back to Creagh Villa. One year the centrepiece was a gramophone and I clearly remember an old 75 rpm record of the African-American singer and actor Paul Robenson singing ‘Drink to me Only With Thine Eyes’, a favourite of Alfie’s.

Another year Bernie had a brand new toy - a reel-to-reel tape recorder of which I wrote about at Christmas 2020. It was the size of a Ryanair carry-on bag and interviews and carols were recorded and played back, much to the embarrassment and red faces of the interviewees.

Another year an uncle-in-law, Seamus Bourke, convinced me the fine red wine he was drinking was bull’s blood.

There was always a blazing fire in the hearth and I was tasked with ensuring it did not go out.

These parties went on well into the early morning so I had little experience for many years as a young lad of chasing the wren on St. Stephen’s Day - most of it was spent in bed.

One particular year, I think the very early ‘60s, I was a member of the boys choir in the Church of the Holy Rosary, Castlebar, under the baton of the late Fr. Tom Shannon (pictured). That Christmas morning we sang at the 7 a.m. Mass in the Church of the Holy Rosary, the 10.30 a.m. (I think) Mass at the church in the grounds of St. Mary’s psychiatric hospital, and at the last Mass in Castlebar Church, after which we visited, on foot, the Sacred Heart Hospital to sing carols for the residents and then we walked to Castlebar County (now Mayo University) Hospital to sing in the children’s wards.

You can imagine by the time I had Christmas dinner and hit Creagh Villa I fell asleep under the large table they had in the dining room.

The same table adorned my own dining room for many years until it succumbed to woodworm.

The late Fr. Shannon, who had been secretary of Archbishop Joseph Cunnane and ended his days as a Monsignor in Ballinrobe, had a huge influence on us youngsters in Castlebar in the 1960s. He was the epitome of what a priest should be and he was highly respected by the choirboys and Mass servers who he trained.

As a reward for our services Fr. Tom took the young boys on an excursion each year. I was one of the lucky one as I got going for free. That was because Fr. Tom asked that each boy pay half the price if they were a server or a choirboy. And I was in both.

Christmas at Creagh Villa was special and I was lucky that my two oldest daughters Emma and Ineke - the latter just five days old - were able to ‘experience’ the annual and historic family get-togethers in the Gillespie ancestral home.

As I recall there was always a special seasonal film shown in the County Cinema on Christmas night. I never attended one as we had better entertainment around the family circle.

I remember we had a white Christmas in 1964 and we walked through it to get to Creagh Villa, while Bernie dropped us home early on St. Stephen’s morning

How things have changed. Christmas is now total commercialism and it seems to start earlier and earlier.

Christmas decorations, sweets and biscuits arrive on the supermarket shelves at the end of October - before the Halloween items are sold or removed.