Getting High Read Online Free
Author: Paolo Hewitt
first-ever modern industrial centre. And that kind of change doesnât come easy.
Paddy was the first born. Then came John, and Bridie. On 30 January 1943 Margaret Sweeney gave birth to her second daughter. She was christened Peggy and brought back to Margaret and her husband Williamâs tiny house in Mayo. Over the next few years, there would be more brothers and sisters, namely Kathleen, Helen, Ann, Una, Pauline, Billy and Den.
The house the Sweeneys lived in stood on flat bog-land amid a beautiful but harsh landscape. It had been bequeathed to Margaret by John and Mary, her aunt and uncle. Margaret herself came from a family of eleven. As a little child, she had been sent to her auntâs to live. They had no family, so they :welcomed her arrival.
When they died, the house was bequeathed to her. Margaret then married William and settled down to do what all women of her area did, which was to bring life into the world, and then nurture it as best she could. William worked as a labourer but sadly he wouldnât always stand by his wifeâs side.
Margaret would endure her husband abandoning her, not once, but twice. The first time occurred after the birth of Una; the second time after the eleventh child, Den, was born. Like most of Mayoâs inhabitants, the Sweeneys were poor, desperately poor. Life was a tough struggle, further exacerbated by the elements. When harsh winter came and the land refused to yield food, well, that was the worst of it. Not to mention the lack of heating.
Each day, Peggy and her family would rise early from the beds they had crammed into, bruised somewhat by their unconscious kicking of each other as they slept. With hours of disturbed sleep behind them, and violently shivering against the cold, they would put on yesterdayâs clothes and wonder if today, at least, there might be enough food for breakfast. On some mornings, there would be nothing to fill their stomachs for the walk to school.
Each child had his or her own job to do round the small house, although its cramped size meant there was little to do. Even so, the boys would be allotted the manual work while the girls would wash, sew, clean and cook. One of the first lessons that Peggy learnt was that women tended to the house and the men went out into the world to do the tough work.
It was a way of life that was enthusiastically backed up by the Catholic Church. God had put women on this earth to give birth and raise children. Catholic children. Good Catholic children. This tenet was so sternly ingrained in them, they never once dared question its wisdom.
With breakfast finished, they would pull on their coats and, as morning light started to break, walk the one and a half miles to their school. It was named Chorton. In Ireland, at the time, there was no separation between the ages, and no primary or secondary schools.
Chorton was a National School: you stayed there until your circumstances forced you to leave. Most left early. At school Peggy loved reading. She especially liked girlâs comics with titles such as Secrets . When she was engrossed in these magazines or if she had her nose in a book, it was as if the world and all its hardships magically fell away.
Reading suited Peggy. She wasnât a boisterous girl and she never drew attention to herself. She was quiet, withdrawn, a little bit of a dreamer, but with a strong sense of responsibility.
The lessons that captivated her mind the most were the Gaelic class (although today she would be hard pressed to remember a sentence), and English where she could indulge her love of reading. She wasnât good at sports but loved knitting and needlework at which she excelled. Again, it was another activity which allowed her to slip free from herself.
At the end of school, she would walk home again. On a lot of these occasions her stomach would ache with the pain of not eating all day. When she arrived home there would be a meal, usually made of milk and
Paddy was the first born. Then came John, and Bridie. On 30 January 1943 Margaret Sweeney gave birth to her second daughter. She was christened Peggy and brought back to Margaret and her husband Williamâs tiny house in Mayo. Over the next few years, there would be more brothers and sisters, namely Kathleen, Helen, Ann, Una, Pauline, Billy and Den.
The house the Sweeneys lived in stood on flat bog-land amid a beautiful but harsh landscape. It had been bequeathed to Margaret by John and Mary, her aunt and uncle. Margaret herself came from a family of eleven. As a little child, she had been sent to her auntâs to live. They had no family, so they :welcomed her arrival.
When they died, the house was bequeathed to her. Margaret then married William and settled down to do what all women of her area did, which was to bring life into the world, and then nurture it as best she could. William worked as a labourer but sadly he wouldnât always stand by his wifeâs side.
Margaret would endure her husband abandoning her, not once, but twice. The first time occurred after the birth of Una; the second time after the eleventh child, Den, was born. Like most of Mayoâs inhabitants, the Sweeneys were poor, desperately poor. Life was a tough struggle, further exacerbated by the elements. When harsh winter came and the land refused to yield food, well, that was the worst of it. Not to mention the lack of heating.
Each day, Peggy and her family would rise early from the beds they had crammed into, bruised somewhat by their unconscious kicking of each other as they slept. With hours of disturbed sleep behind them, and violently shivering against the cold, they would put on yesterdayâs clothes and wonder if today, at least, there might be enough food for breakfast. On some mornings, there would be nothing to fill their stomachs for the walk to school.
Each child had his or her own job to do round the small house, although its cramped size meant there was little to do. Even so, the boys would be allotted the manual work while the girls would wash, sew, clean and cook. One of the first lessons that Peggy learnt was that women tended to the house and the men went out into the world to do the tough work.
It was a way of life that was enthusiastically backed up by the Catholic Church. God had put women on this earth to give birth and raise children. Catholic children. Good Catholic children. This tenet was so sternly ingrained in them, they never once dared question its wisdom.
With breakfast finished, they would pull on their coats and, as morning light started to break, walk the one and a half miles to their school. It was named Chorton. In Ireland, at the time, there was no separation between the ages, and no primary or secondary schools.
Chorton was a National School: you stayed there until your circumstances forced you to leave. Most left early. At school Peggy loved reading. She especially liked girlâs comics with titles such as Secrets . When she was engrossed in these magazines or if she had her nose in a book, it was as if the world and all its hardships magically fell away.
Reading suited Peggy. She wasnât a boisterous girl and she never drew attention to herself. She was quiet, withdrawn, a little bit of a dreamer, but with a strong sense of responsibility.
The lessons that captivated her mind the most were the Gaelic class (although today she would be hard pressed to remember a sentence), and English where she could indulge her love of reading. She wasnât good at sports but loved knitting and needlework at which she excelled. Again, it was another activity which allowed her to slip free from herself.
At the end of school, she would walk home again. On a lot of these occasions her stomach would ache with the pain of not eating all day. When she arrived home there would be a meal, usually made of milk and
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