I’VE never met John Creedon, but he is one of those uniquely Irish people who you feel you know well and, if you ever did meet him, could slip into easy conversation in a pub, on a hill-top walk or if you simply bumped into him on Patrick Street.
I’ll do my best to keep the overused words 'national treasure' out of this piece, but I can’t make any promises.
I should also declare a connection to West Cork, the foundation stone of so many of Creedon’s stories. My late father, Bill, was a fiercely proud West Cork man and, if the truth be told, despite spending so much time on Hill 16 cheering the Dubs, my heart belongs in Castlehaven, sitting on a milk churn chatting to my Uncle Jimmy on the slow horse-drawn daily trip to the creamery.
Our virtual paths, mine and John Creedon’s, crossed many years ago on “old” Twitter, around a shared love of nature, particularly garden-birds. Since then I’ve read everything he has written, watched his many TV documentaries, given his books as Christmas presents to everyone I know and tuned in to his radio show in the evenings as often as I can.
So it was with some nervousness that I picked up his new book This Boy’s Heart: Scenes from an Irish Childhood knowing that I was to review it for The Irish Post — what if it’s not very good, I wondered? I needn’t have worried, this is a GORGEOUS book, a trip through John’s early life in Cork in the 1960s and 1970s, where he paints a vivid picture of his formative years that clearly made him the man he is today. A warm hug, at a moment in time when many of us need it most.
It’s too much of a cliché to say that this is just a nostalgic memoir of “the good old days”, memories of long hot summers, playing in the streets under Shandon’s Bells. It’s much more than that - an entertaining and revealing chronicle at a time of great transformation in Ireland, seen through the eyes of a young boy who spent his time in very different city and rural environments.
Creedon’s parents were clearly extraordinary characters - even with 12 children, jobs as a bus driver and shop-keepers, they somehow managed to keep the show on the road, their kindness, love and practical common sense shining through the pages as his life-story unfolds.
The cast of other characters is a veritable cornucopia, described in flamboyant and graphic detail, but with evocative language derived from many childhood afternoons sitting on a high stool in the Formica Bar, smoking cigarettes and listening to Auld Soldiers’ colourful view of the world.
I feel I’ve known Mrs. Manley my whole life – “crippled with de hip and smelling of damp turf and woodbines”. Memories of going to the pictures with Aunty Theresa, a woman who, “apart from smoking, had no other hobbies, although she did write to Ireland’s Own for song lyrics on many occasions.”
I won’t spoil the surprise, just to say that John’s account of the Glounthane Donkey Derby towards the end of the book reminded me of the advice to musicians in the showband era to “send them home sweatin’”.
It’s not all sunshine and roses, though. John’s recounting of his time at the hands of the Christian Brothers in the North Mon will bring back some painful memories for those of us who suffered at the hands of the men in black soutanes who were charged with our care and education from the age of just 8-years old.
I too have identical memories of walking to the top of the class to receive six-of-the-best.
From the dawn of time, Irish people have valued the Seanchaí in our communities - the ability to both entertain and educate an audience is a rare skill. John is a natural story-teller, with an easy sense of humour and a remarkable memory for detail.
When I look around and see young people these days, glued to small screens, living their lives through the lens of TikTok, YouTube and Snapchat, deep down a part of me wishes we all had the opportunity to see and do what John has seen and done.
But I suppose the next best thing is to read about it...and it’s also nice to have all of your Christmas presents sorted so long before Christmas.
National treasure indeed.
Art O'Leary is Chief Executive of An Coimisiún Toghcháin, the Electoral Commission
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