But there was some compensation in that our home at Mary Street was a transit point for our South Armagh cousins, heading to or from England or Scotland. Emigration was rampant in that region of small farms, large families and little employment. Holdings usually went to the eldest son, while the others had to seek a living elsewhere, usually abroad. My Aunt�s two daughters, Molly and Teresa, as well as sons Pat John and Michael, settled in England. One of my Uncles became a coal-miner in Scotland, while another emigrated to the USA, and never came home!

My cousin, Molly Hearty was employed in the household of coal-importer, Joseph Fisher, whose mansion at Dromalane, is now the Church of the Assumption. She spent most of her spare time at our home. After leaving for London, she was replaced at the Fisher residence by her cousin, Maisie Casey, now Mrs Mickey Moley, - a tall, shy, red-haired girl, who was also a welcome visitor to our house.

At home in Newry, I would waken to the screeching of seagulls, wheeling and diving for scraps of food, along the banks of the Clanrye River, which washed against our back wall, and flooded our home with the Spring tides.

What a contrast to the scene out in Dorsey, with the sounds of a horse being harnessed; hens squawking, while rushing pell-mell for the scattered seed; cows lowing in the nearby byres; and the sheepdog barking in eager anticipation of a day of adventure in the fields. Along with my cousin, Owney Hearty, I would walk behind horse and plough; help bring the turf back from the bog, or drive the cows home from the meadow.

Nor will I forget a trip to Crossmaglen Fair, riding on the buckboard beside my Aunt�s husband, Mick Paddy Owney Hearty. We had a pig in the back. Disaster struck for, when he handed me the rope-reins in order to light his pipe, I flourished them at the horse�s head, knocking the pipe out of his mouth. Fortunately, it landed on the grass verge.

The abiding image of my Aunt was of a tall, smiling, bespectacled figure, wiping her flour-stained hand on her bag-apron to greet the sickly child of her youngest sister. She seldom had an idle moment, milking the cows, hand-churning butter, preparing the feed for a wide range of livestock and fowl, as well as the myriad household chore.

Like in most rural homes, the dresser had pride of place, with rows of shelves, filled with willow-pattern plates and mugs. The only light was from an oil-lamp; food was cooked over a turf fire, kept aflame by a fan-bellows, as cooking utensils were suspended over the hearth. An outside, non-flush toilet was about 30 yards distant, with strips of newspaper spiked on the wall. A chamber pot or po was under the bed, in case of the call of nature during the night.

The Hearty homestead was a real �Ceili-house,� with many young men dropping in for a night�s craic. My Aunt would be the hostess, with her husband, a small plump man with a large moustache holding court, constantly filling and refilling his pipe. In they would come, - Peter McKeever, Arthur and Jimmy McGuinness, Vince Macken, Rex Palmer, Mick Stephens, Michael Casey and Francis Macken, etc, and the semi-circle around the fire would widen.

Occasionally, I would visit my Aunt Bridget and the Reel family at Tullinavall, near Creggan. One day, my cousins took me to their school at Cregganduff, where the principal was the father of the late Cardinal O Fiaich. The small, thatched building was partitioned into two classrooms, with a large turf fire.

The woman teacher seated me beside the fire, and assembled the pupils in a semi-circle. She and they questioned me about life in Newry, and at my school, the Abbey C.B.S. in Newry. The contrast between their humble school-house, with its austere conditions, compared to the ultra-modern complex at Courtney Hill, with corridors of classrooms, central-heating, suites of toilets and cloak-rooms, Assembly Hall and extensive recreational facilities, would have been huge.

Since my mother�s intention in despatching me to �the country,� in those spartan days of rationing, was to obtain good food, fresh air and exercise, she would have been disappointed to learn that I spent much of my time reading books, - anything from Ministry of Agriculture Regulations to Churchill�s Memoirs and romantic novels.

Maybe it was the influence of the latter, but one day, at the age of nine years, I expressed the desire to sleep with my cousin, Mary Alice Casey. I was amazed by the hilarity with which my simple request was received. Given charge of the arrangements was her grandmother, who was also my Aunt Alice, - tall, white-haired, red-cheeked, and with a great sense of humour. It never happened!

Since �the birds and the bees,� the opposite gender or human reproduction never sullied the lips of the Christian Brothers, nor the ethos of the Abbey primary or secondary schools, it was some years before I realised why my innocent proposal was greeted with such mirth.

Radical changes have taken place in this scenic, historic region, over the past half-century. But some things never change. Despite the trauma of the �Troubles�, and the present-day pressures and pace of life, the warmth and hospitality of this community lives on, with a spirit of optimism for the future. It really still is �God�s own country!�

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