The Irish Club
When we came to England in 1963, we contacted the Dublin University Graduate Associations and we discovered that they met in the Irish Club in Eaton Square (a very 'posh' part of London). There we met an Irishman called John Burke who was a member of the Irish male voice choir which met there. He worked at Southend Airport and he got Mike a job there for the time leading up to the start of Mike's course in Garnet College.
I was elected to the committee of the Dublin University Women Graduates Association in Britain and I eventually became Vice Chairperson and then, finally, Chairperson. We enjoyed many cocktail parties, dinners, dances, and talks throughout this time. We had lots of funny incidents during this time, too, like the day when someone left his hat behind and I put it on my head and started to fool around, only to be caught in the act by the person who had returned for his hat. He happened to be Master of the Royal Mint.
Another time at a dinner, where the guest speaker was Henry Clarke, MP for North Antrim, (who later lost his seat to Enoch Power) it fell to me to make the thank you speech to the speaker. I was warned not to mention politics or religion so I prepared a learned speech about economics. Unfortunately, I had a doctor from Cork sitting next to me, who kept on topping up my glass with brandy through the meal and regaling me with hilarious tales of his life as a doctor. By the time that I stood up to make my speech, I was quite tipsy even though I tried to begin on a serious note. Under the table, the doctor kept kicking my feet and whispering to me to be myself and to forget my notes, so eventually I threw the notes down and proclaimed 'Whoever heard of a gathering of Irish people where religion and politics weren't the chief topic of conversation?' A shocked silence fell on the room! To this day I don't remember what else I said in the speech but when I sat down, Mr Clarke came around the table and shook my hand warmly, saying that he had never before enjoyed a speech as much.
Another memory of the Irish Club from 1966, a month before my father died, was of the time Mike and I took my father to a show given by Michael McLiammoir and Hilton Edwards, a famous Irish theatrical pair. My father really enjoyed that evening.
In 1967, Mike spent a year in Bradford University. The Irish Tourist Board hadn't used all of their budget so they offered to throw a party for the Trinity Graduates in the Irish Club. The food was out of this world and the drink flowed freely. By the end of the evening, there wasn't a sober person remaining. Nevertheless, we all got into our cars to drive home and as I drove home in my 1100 along Park Lane, I was wondering why I was leaving all of the fancy cars in my wake in a cloud of dust. I felt on top of the world - invincible - until I reached Swiss Cottage. At that point, I had to brake hard at a ramp, stopping just an inch from a Jaguar full of policemen. They were all looking at me through their window, wagging their fingers at me, and laughing. I sobered up in an instant and remembered I had to be in school, teaching, early the following morning. Looking back, I realise that that could have had a very different outcome.
Photo:
Men L to R: Jessicas friend, Mike McCormack, Harry McCord, Peter Knowles
Women L to R: Jessica Hall-Patch, Pat McCormack, Margaret (Peter's friend)
One day I went out to where I had parked my car and saw a man pushing the car down the square. When I accosted him to ask what he was doing, he said that Prince someone or other always had that particular space for his car. There were lots of rich Arabs living in the square at that time.
I have many happy memories of that time and of evenings spent in the club.