Around 1955 when I was something like eight, I have a memory that has never gone away. I was with my dad Billy Thompson (the boxer) and my little sister, on a bus outing organised by his work I think. It may well have been the time he worked in Stewart's Mill. I don't remember where we were going to or had been to, but there was some singing and joking between people, and an old man wept because he had just passed the place where he had been brought up as a boy. Dabbler, do you remember any bus runs?

Liz

Liz
The coach trip that I was on, along with Billy and others, mostly mill workers, was in 1951/ 52, or 53 at the very latest. I do not remember if there were any children, under teenage, on board. It was a trip to Drogheda. I have previously referred to my underage drinking, and abysmal attempt at singing.

Thanks Dabbler, I always think someone else might add fuel to the dying embers of my memories, but not this time. With your gift of poetry (apart from your gift of the gab)you needn't worry about not being able to sing. I mean you could have quietened a whole bus load with one of yours. As for me I sing anyway. I always say English folk won't sing if they can't sing, but the Irish sing anyway! I don't suppose I will ever change now!

Liz