Mike Mahon

One of my abiding memories of  childhood was the long summer days we spent in Brittas Bay. My Dad was in the building business and the traditional builders holidays was the first two weeks of August. We were a family of five children, but had many aunts and uncles and myriads of cousins. As there was not enough room in the cars to transport us all to Brittas,  my father got a long low loader truck on which he built a frame and covered it over in canvass, it was like a large tent on wheels. The adults traveled by car but all us kids were bundled into this contraption . We were delighted. We fitted it out with cushions,  rugs, old car seats and beach towels and set off in convoy for Brittas Bay. Sometimes there might have been ten or twelve of us plus a few dogs, but we thought the  ‘craic was mighty’ .

The roads were not very good in those days so there were frequent stops to repair punctures or  overheating engines. We were like a small army on the move, the amount of paraphernalia we carried for the picnic. There were kettles, pots and pans, primus stoves, rugs, wind- breakers, table cloths, dishes , cutlery, billy cans, sun umbrellas, li-lows, deck chairs and even a green  plastic blow up crocodile . Of course the weather was  not always favorable and I can remember well Uncle Dick and Dad hunching out in the lashings of rain furiously pumping the primus stoves trying to boil water for tea, while we kids sat in our dry mobile tent munching sandwiches. Any time now I eat a tomato and cheese sandwich I can still get the taste of sand in my mouth. One old aunt, Aunt Dolly, would bring a mountain of sandwiches of dubious ingredients and when we inquired what was in them, she would dismiss us with a wave of her hand, ‘ They’re et cetera sandwiches, what ever came to hand. Eat up and don’t be cheeky’ . I munched on what tasted like a cheese  sandwich only to find it  had bones in it

Regardless of the weather us kids always managed to get into our togs for a swim, build sand castles or just muck about. Looking back on it now as an adult it reminds me of some sort of medieval  punishment. We were always blue,  shivering with the cold trying to dry ourselves with a wet towel  or sheltering from the rain under a plastic mac. Days later we would still be brushing sand from our cracks and crevices.

 The journey back to Dublin was another adventure. It was usually late in the day and we usually stopped at one of the many pubs.  Now in those days children were not allowed into pubs so as the adults went in for ‘a few jars’ us kids were left  to our own devices in our four wheeled tent . We were happy being kept well supplied with drinks of red lemonade and glasses of raspberry cordial. We would have already stocked up well with such goodies as gob stoppers, bulls eyes, liquorish-all- sorts, fizz bags, dolly mixtures, marietta biscuits and slabs of gur cake ,which was like dead flies  between two pieces of pastry. Exhausted but happy we would eventually get home to Dublin and our proper beds

Brittas Bay has changed a lot in the intervening years. Many of the beautiful beaches have been fenced off by land owners, old country houses have been convertedinto luxury hotels and spas and a spate of luxury holiday homes were built during the boom years.