Jean Murray
JEAN MURRAY
Jean grew up in Mountcharles, on the south coast of Donegal in the sixties, middle child of seven.
Her appreciation of the beauty of her home county was strengthened after travelling first overseas in her twenties then hugging the coastline all around Ireland in later years.
She believes Donegal has everything one could wish for in terms of scenery but with a breathtaking mystical quality at times.
email: jeaniemacmurray@gmail.com
Jean grew up in Mountcharles, on the south coast of Donegal in the sixties, middle child of seven.
Her appreciation of the beauty of her home county was strengthened after travelling first overseas in her twenties then hugging the coastline all around Ireland in later years.
She believes Donegal has everything one could wish for in terms of scenery but with a breathtaking mystical quality at times.
email: jeaniemacmurray@gmail.com
HOME SWEET HOME
I grew up in the 1960's in a Donegal village by the sea, Mountcharles.
What I took for granted then amazes me now.
The view from the National School was Donegal Bay across to Benbulbin.
We roamed as carefree as the wind when children.
Summer days were spent by the seaside, unsupervised,
once Daddy had taught us to swim.
Skipping ropes, hopscotch, marbles, and roller skates
were our equivalent to iPods, iPhones and iTunes.
Snowfall was welcomed by biscuit tin lids, and home made sleighs, (even an upside down dining table in Dad's day) down Main Street, without too much concern for the odd passing car.
Solid friendships were made, that last to this day.
None of us knew of latest fashion trends, because none could afford them.
Meat was killed and cured by the local butcher.
Fish came direct from Killybegs, sold from the back of a Morris van.
Milk from cows owned by the local vet, left in cans outside our door. As children we fought for the cream at the top, for the porridge in the mornings, before heading down the school lane.
Vegetables were cut from the garden of the local retired guard.
No wonder we grew up healthy as we did.
As an adult I travelled the globe a little.
I missed the Forty Shades, no matter where I lay my head.
Always knowing I would return, to raise my own children here.
I now have three beautiful, well adjusted grown up Colleens.
One even with the Celtic red hair, like her Grandad Murray.
They too have been privileged to grow up in Donegal,
spending summers, like I did as a teenager, in Gaeltachts.
All three are fluent in Irish, with deep roots, like me, in Donegal.
I grew up in the 1960's in a Donegal village by the sea, Mountcharles.
What I took for granted then amazes me now.
The view from the National School was Donegal Bay across to Benbulbin.
We roamed as carefree as the wind when children.
Summer days were spent by the seaside, unsupervised,
once Daddy had taught us to swim.
Skipping ropes, hopscotch, marbles, and roller skates
were our equivalent to iPods, iPhones and iTunes.
Snowfall was welcomed by biscuit tin lids, and home made sleighs, (even an upside down dining table in Dad's day) down Main Street, without too much concern for the odd passing car.
Solid friendships were made, that last to this day.
None of us knew of latest fashion trends, because none could afford them.
Meat was killed and cured by the local butcher.
Fish came direct from Killybegs, sold from the back of a Morris van.
Milk from cows owned by the local vet, left in cans outside our door. As children we fought for the cream at the top, for the porridge in the mornings, before heading down the school lane.
Vegetables were cut from the garden of the local retired guard.
No wonder we grew up healthy as we did.
As an adult I travelled the globe a little.
I missed the Forty Shades, no matter where I lay my head.
Always knowing I would return, to raise my own children here.
I now have three beautiful, well adjusted grown up Colleens.
One even with the Celtic red hair, like her Grandad Murray.
They too have been privileged to grow up in Donegal,
spending summers, like I did as a teenager, in Gaeltachts.
All three are fluent in Irish, with deep roots, like me, in Donegal.
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