‘Baller’ The Sunshine Home Balbriggan In Dublin some people got help from the society of St Vincent de Paul a charity for the poor. The children of these people went to the Sunshine home. It was for kids between the age of eight and twelve years of age. This was the only holiday that these children ever received. I am proud to say that I was one of these children. I was one of twelve children and my father did not work. The fact that my father did not work put my family in the poor bracket which made us eligible for ‘Baller’.

The whole excitement of going to Balbriggan for a week’s holiday was the opportunity to sleep in a bed by yourself, to get breakfast consisting of porridge, egg, sausage, bread and butter. In addition to going to ‘Baller’ each child was brought to a place in Mount Joy Square so your hair could be checked for Lice and your body for scabies. This inspection took place on the Tuesday or Wednesday of the week before you were due to go to Baller. Everybody always passed this inspection as their mothers had previously scrubbed you body and fine combed your hair.

On Saturday morning you were brought to Amiens street train station at 10:30 your mother would give you a shilling which was a sacrifice. If there were four children from a family it would leave your mother without money for herself. She would save it up or we would sell bundles of sticks to make up a shilling. The brothers would bring all the boys into Balbriggan town on Tuesday and Thursday.

We had six pence for each day. Our budget for the week included spending four pence a day on sweets and you would send a postcard home to your mother. One of the brothers would write the postcard for you as none of the boys could write well enough for the postman to understand. About thirty boys would sleep in a dormitory. The dormitory consisted of fifteen beds on each side of the room. The dormitory’s had names such as Don Boscos and St Finbars.

There were two brothers in each dormitory that helped the boys. They would tell ghost stories before we would go to bed. The ghost stories in which they told left you terrified and unwilling to move until the next morning. During the day we played a variation of games. Three times a week the brothers would take all the boys to the seaside. There would be about one hundred children from Dublin each carrying a pair of swimming togs marching in lines of two up and down the beach. There were only two colours for swimming togs and they were blue and red. The brothers would carry twenty towels which would be used to dry all of the children.

The activities in which we carried out at the seaside included crab hunting, making sand castles and going swimming. After the beach you would go back for your dinner. After dinner you would go out to the playground. There were two playgrounds; one had a football pitch, a slide, a rocking horse and a monkey puzzle. We would have football matches between all the different dormitories. The winners would get prizes at the weekend. The prize was usually a puzzle or a snakes and ladders game or a cap gun without the caps. When we were finished in the playground we would have supper. Supper consisted of a glass of milk and a plain biscuit. After supper we would go to the cinema. At the time the films were silent films including Buster Keating and Charlie Chaplin. They were real to real films. Every fifteen minutes these films would break down and everyone would stamp there feet and chant that we wanted our money back.

After the cinema we would go to bed. At night some of the boys would wet the bed. I suppose it was the ghost stories. The next day the cleaner would hang the wet mattress out the window and everyone would mock all the boys in that particular dormitory. No boy would ever own up to wetting the bed. When Saturday morning cam everyone would be sad to be going home, but when the train pulled into the station you would run up to your mother and be happy to be home. Everyone would ask if you had enjoyed yourself. Your brothers would ask if anything had changed since they had been there and if we had seen McKenzie’s ghost or did we rob the orchard. As I have said previously this was the only holiday we ever got. I was twenty one years of age the next time I went on a holiday, a weekend in Butlins with my wife’S family.

Today I look at my children who have been half way around the world at the age I was when I went to ‘Baller’. After my mother died, God rest her soul, my brothers and I were cleaning out her house and we came across a postcard from Balbriggan after thirty five years. It brought a tear to our eyes but we reminisced about Balbriggan and we shared a laugh. We needed to laugh at such a crucial time.

Some years after this event I wrote a poem and this is it. "Ivan higgins 4/6/06 BALBRIGGAN In a wardrobe I was Diggin’ When I cam across a postcard from Balbriggan My mind flashed back to when I was a kid To the sunshine house and the things we did. Excitement started before you got there You were sent to Osmond House So they could check out your hair You’d think you were off to sunny Spain When you were marched off to the station To catch the eleven o’clock train A week of party, seaside and singin’ That’s what you got when you went to Balbriggan.

Mackenzie’s ghost in the churchyard so old And of the headless horseman we were told, If you robbed the orchard or you were bold. In the dining-hall you weren’t allowed talk, And you didn’t know in which hand To hold the knife or fork.. There you slept in a single bed on your own And you had two pillows all of your own. If you peed in the bed it was on your head With your sheets out the window and your face turned red.. In the playground you found a horse, Two slides and a swing a big iron thing That went round and round, with your feet on the ground.

Yes we had all the Plus “The Witches Hat”. Always on a Tuesday to the town you went and your Shilling spent, some sweets for a present And a postcard was sent. Then off you go with your nicks in your hand, Off for a swim in Balbriggan strand. At the pictures at night you’d sit in your seat, And when the film broke down we’d all stamp our feet. Then your holiday was over for another year, Back to the station, full of cheer. And onto the train that headed for Dublin, inside your body your heart was bubblin’.

In your mind you would be sayin’ Why would anyone go to Spain?, They should be in Dundrum for the criminally insane. I know that times were hard, But I’m glad I had the money for this old postcard. Ivan higgins