'I have a picture of myself looking into the flames, my grandfather singing and the sound of the plink plonk of the milk falling into the bucket as my mother milked the cows'

'I have a picture of myself looking into the flames, my grandfather singing and the sound of the plink plonk of the milk falling into the bucket as my mother milked the cows'

Margaret recounts memories of her mother going to her father's every night and milking the cows.

Margaret McLoughlin

Trinity College Dublin

1945

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Margaret McLoughlin

Childhood and Early Life

Life Story

Dromahair, Co. Sligo

1970s

As my grandfather lived outside the village and they had no woman in the house when her sister Lizzie left for work in Dublin my mother would go out to his house every night and do another day's work. When the porridge was cooked on the range and the homework done in our house one of us would accompany her armed with a flash lamp if it was Winter Time. First she would make two very large soda cakes and while they were cooking in the pot oven she would get the creepy (which was a three legged stool) and go to the byre and milk four cows. The fireplace was a big open space with a big crook which the pots would be hung on. The pot oven was a round cast iron pot with a lid. The cake was put into it and then the lid was put on. The lid then would be covered with the hot coals from the fire and these in turn would be replaced with red ones if the first ones went grey. The nicest bread anyone could taste came out of that oven. I would be left sitting at the fire with my grandfather who would be chatting to his friends who came for a ramble and they would talk about the price of cattle or about the weather and the crops. If nobody called he would be humming to himself. I have a picture of myself looking into the flames my grandfather singing and the sound of the plink plonk of the milk falling into the bucket as my mother milked the cows. When she finished she strained the milk and kept back a portion for the house. Some of it would be churned but I suppose that was at a certain time of year. The day of the churning my mother would go out early to scour the utensils which would be used. The churn itself was a big wooden one with a long dash and wooden lid . It was a very long process to me it's seemed like hours. The dash was lifted up and down for what seemed like hours and every now and again my mother would test to see if it had congealed. My Grandfather or Uncle if they happened to be passing through the kitchen were obliged to take a turn at the dash. When a cow calved, we would then have a bucket of beestons. They were like curds. My mother boiled them and I don't know what would have been added to them, but it was most nourishing and we would all have some. I think it was the first milk the cow produced after calving .

Irish Research Council for Arts, Humanities & Social Sciences (IRCHSS)

Dr Kathleen McTiernan (Trinity College Dublin)

Dr Deirdre O'Donnell (Trinity College Dublin)