Excerpts
"Did I mention food
before? Well, it’s lovely, particularly the bread, which is delicious. (I
should have written that in capital letters, I think). It’s quite simple food, nothing
outlandish really, so far anyway. Although this evening for supper there were
prawns or something (about five inches long with claws, etc. D’you know what they are?). Not knowing what
way to eat them anyway, I said I didn’t like them (how sophisticated!) and was
met with amazed stares from everybody. But I made up for it with the pizza,
which was delicious. Also, there were boiled eggs, halved and served with a
sauce, and cauliflower. But I doubt if you’d like it, even though I loved it! By
the way, everybody just pulled the fish apart with their hands à la Henry VIII!" (Letter 1 - Catherine - 29 August 1983)
"Isn’t it great,
Cathy, being where we are (age-wise, I mean)? I really enjoy being eighteen ’cos
you have a degree of independence and yet you can act the gom if you want ’cos
we’re not ‘all growed up’ yet. Without sounding corny, I find myself looking forward
to the adventure of the unknown. I know a lifetime is short (and that, God
forbid, my life could end tomorrow) but yet the future seems stretched out
ahead and the uncertainty, while frightening at times, is exciting too. (I
guess that’s my weak attempt at philosophical musing, but I trust you know what
I mean.)..." (Letter 10 - Mary - 27 November 1983)
"I don’t know if I agree
with you about it being great being eighteen. I’m kinda apprehensive, waiting
for ‘it all’ to come. I think twenty-two, twenty-three’d be better. Then you’d
be sophisticated and knowledgeable and wouldn’t understand the words ‘shy’ and ‘blush’.
But when I was fifteen or sixteen I used to think you’d be as previously
mentioned at the age of eighteen. I think Janis Ian’s song ‘At 17’ could be
called ‘At 18’ as well. But hopefully not ‘At 19’!" (Letter 11 - Catherine - 3 December 1983)
"Gee, weren’t you lucky to miss all of the ballyhoo
in Ballyporeen? Nancy and Ronnie were over. Martin had to go up with the Civil
Defence, but you wouldn’t believe the security. Some poor priest was torn out
of his house ’cos he dared to open a window at the wrong time. All the houses
in Ballyporeen were emptied and searched at ten o’clock. It all passed off
peacefully enough....." (Letter 22 - Mary - 11 June 1984)