Running away to Granny's

Running away to Granny’s house.

I remember Granny Norah’s thatched cottage with fluorescent red roses in the garden with the utmost affection. In fact, Granny's house was such a haven for my three younger brothers and me that I recall trying to run away there when I was a young boy. Every Saturday morning at home, our house was full of hustle and bustle as Mum and Dad busied themselves preparing for Sunday. Everybody’s best clothes are prepared, and shoes are shined within an inch of their lives. Saturday night was the weekly wash, when we all washed away the sins of the week.

I could hear the commotion from a small room directly under the bedroom, which I shared with my two brothers. I would wake at 8:00 on a Saturday to the noise of this madness below me. It was a great sound muffled by their ceiling between us, and his presence was a great comfort.

Mom was always busy washing and cleaning on Saturday, but most of all preparing and cooking breakfast for the feast the next day. Sunday was the only day of their week when we awoke to the succulent aroma of sizzling sausages first thing in the morning. There was a pleasant atmosphere, and everyone seemed in good spirits.

‘Hello, darling. Did you have a good sleep?’ Mom asked as she greeted us with a big hug

I loved these mornings. It was not just the hugs, the breakfast, or the atmosphere, but also the absence of school, which made the day extra special for me. The fact that we had the freedom that day to do as we pleased, wander around the countryside, or watch a good movie by the fire in the afternoon.

One particular Saturday, I awoke with delight to all the familiar sounds and smells of the weekend. None of the rest of the kids were up, so I felt lucky to have Mum's undivided attention as I snuck downstairs for my hug. Instead, I was greeted by a different weekend, Mom. My usual happy greeting was amiss, and Mom was not happy to see me, and there was undoubtedly no hug.

‘Oh, for Christ's sake, what are you doing up this early? Couldn't you wait a few minutes until I finish some jobs? She shouted.

She was washing the floor, and I had spoiled it, and I felt it was all my fault. The expression on her face was cross and one I wasn't very familiar with, especially on a Saturday morning. I just said sorry, backed out of the kitchen slowly, and ran upstairs quickly. Both my brothers were about to get up when I just blurted out. ‘Mum is in a lousy humour because I walked on the wet floor. She told me to get out.’

‘I hate her,’ I screamed as the two boys just sat there, sleepy-eyed, looking at me.

It was a stark contrast to our usual Saturday expectations, and it upset me so much that I decided to run away, with only one place in mind.

I remember Granny Norah’s house with the utmost affection. In fact, Granny's house was such a haven for my three younger brothers and me that I recall trying to run away there that Saturday morning I was a young boy. I longed for the safety of grannies, and at one stage, I turned around to the others and spoke.

‘Why don't we go to Granny's house? It's only down the road?

My oldest brother wasn't too keen on the idea, but my youngest brother Sean, God love him, jumped with delight. Well, my powers of persuasion must have been good, as the next thing I knew, we were all heading for Granny’s house, and I'll never forget the excitement I felt.

As quietly as possible, we tiptoed out the back door in our pyjamas. Imagine three little lads in our pyjamas, one wearing wellies and two wearing sandals. I was the most unfortunate with the wellies, and to this day, the thought of wearing them makes my skin crawl. However, after the first hour of walking, the reality of the mammoth task ahead was beginning to sink in. After all, Granny's house was at least six miles away from our home, and we would have to cross over the guarded border. We had no money, no food, and, worst of all, no breakfast.

Also, the day was so hot, and we were worried that we would get burnt. Luckily, however, we sorted that problem by jumping in the river to cool off now and again along the way.

Baby brother Sean didn't take long to protest and demand to go home. We, of course, protested and highlighted the advantages of reaching grannies. I came up with a great idea: Val and I would take turns carrying little Sean, which excited him again, so he agreed to keep going.

I remember, at the halfway point, beginning to think that walking to Granny's wasn't such a good idea after all. Even at that age, there was something about going across the border that scared me. Anyway, between us, we decided we couldn't go back and convinced ourselves that we were too close now, and it was just over the hill.

There were long stretches of walking, just walking, complaining, and sitting on the roadside. We were starving and sweating, and our feet and bodies ached, but we could not give up.

The distance always seemed far, far away in the car, but now here we were sitting on a bridge in the middle of nowhere, bodies aching and declaring to each other how much we hated Mom for being cross this morning and putting us in this position.

The hunger made us think about popping into a shop to see if they would give us something to eat or drink.

‘Maybe the shopkeeper will take pity on us and give us a snack,’ I said

We had been walking for hours but had no idea where we were. We decided to try it.

‘Well, well, what have we here? The McCall brothers from the other county across the border,’ the shopkeeper said. ‘Where is mom?’

‘She's at home,’ we told him. We just came out for a walk.

‘A long walk, lads, do you know? Does your mom know you've come this far?

We looked at each other and wondered what to say. My head bent low, and I just said,

‘No.’

‘You should go back quickly before she gets worried.’ He spoke

When he said that, we turned and headed for the door. My two brothers were hand in hand and outside the door when the shopkeeper shouted

‘Hey, young lad. ‘The game is up; you can’t go on like this,’ he said as he pointed to the biscuits and drink he had prepared to help us on our way.

A biscuit covered in chocolate with cream in the middle, enough nourishment to last forever. My eyes widened; I grabbed the wagon wheels from their packets and sat down, just in case he changed his mind. We didn't eat those chocolate wagon wheels; we devoured them and licked the chocolate off our fingers after that. The look on his face as I was sucking the chocolate was priceless. Who’d have thought such a broad smile could have come from such a mess?

We cleaned our mouths on our shirt sleeves, which were full of chocolate. We were in reasonably good humour at this stage. We were making progress. Then, sometime later, we reached the road that led to Granny’s house.

We arrived at the little tiny cottage at three pm, five hours after setting out from Belmullet that morning.

We expected to be greeted by the same welcome smiles and open arms.

Granny greeted us with a look of complete horror.

‘Where is your mom? How did you get here? Where are you going? How did you get here?. She asked

I’d say saying she was in shock would be an understatement, and then she began to cry.

‘Oh God, what have we done? ' I thought

My uncle arrived, and he and Granny started rushing here and there, looking over their heads towards the road to see if Mum was on her way. They would not listen to us that we had come alone, but after some time, we finally got our message across.

‘Oh God, I’ll have to go over to Belmullet and tell my sister Eileen the kids are safe,’ said Uncle John.

My uncle rushed in to change his clothes and tell Mom we were alive and well. He asked us if we wanted to go home with him, but we all said no. So, he got into his car and drove off down the road.

We were delighted for now; we knew we were safe. Granny brought us a feast, and we ate everything around us.

Later that evening, when Uncle returned, he told us that Mum and Dad had nearly gone out of their minds with worry. When he reached the house, Mom was sitting in the corner crying. There was a local garda there asking questions. They were trying to drag the local river for our bodies, as one of the lads had thought he saw a body floating down the stream some hours before. Dad was in a total state, rushing here and there and worrying everybody.

When Uncle John told his story that we were safe and well, they just sat there crying in disbelief, they called off the river crew, and the Garda went home.

We also went home, and on arrival, we were treated with a newfound fondness and affection we had not seen before. We were all spoilt rotten for the week after we returned home; our parents were so relieved.

When I returned home, I rushed into my father's arms, only to be greeted with a big smile and a warm hug. On that day, I saw in Dad a tenderness that was new to me, and I liked it. I liked it a lot.

In fact, lying in Dad's loving embrace at that moment, I was proud and happy with myself. The running-away idea may not have been perfect, but it was worth it for the loving affection we received from Mam and Dad on our return, which lasted for at least a week.