Memories from Barber's
In my time, the 1940s, the father of the family was Jim Barber who mended bicycles and who had a contract to collect the post from the train and bring it to Kilcullen for further distribution. Mr Barber had a very old van, with holes in the floor, through which sparks would sometimes erupt depending on what had been run over. It always seemed to be in a state of assembly or disassembly. I was mad about cars and used collect the bits left on the ground. I still have a magnet from the magneto on the flywheel.
Mr Barber lived with his daughter, whose name I can't recall just now, and there was a son living and working in England. This was wartime. One day two "strange" children appeared in Barber's, a little boy and girl, with very funny accents. Nobody ever knew why they had come over, or, at least the reason was never conveyed to young ears.
This gave rise to my first formal birthday party, a rather uncommon event in that time. It was the little girl's birthday and she was used to having a party. Miss Barber rose to the occasion and the local gang had a magnificent feed, served in relays off the same plate. I am 84 now but have never forgotten that day, or running down to the river through the gap between Barber's and the Picture House. Which is another Cinema Paradiso story!
I could go on. Thanks for generating lovely memories.
Editor Note: It's great to hear from Pat, following from our recent story about the the current refurbishment of the formerly Barber's premises by Martin Murphy. Like many children living in Britain during the war, the boy and girl had likely been sent to Kilcullen for safe-keeping from the bombing.
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