( I realise as I write this that it is a largely self-indulgent exercise. It’s probably not going to be of any help, let alone much interest, to anyone who doesn’t know me. My story isn’t really all that dramatic, though at times it may have felt dramatic and certainly was traumatic to me. But I feel that if Father Lessons is going to be about anything, it has to be about openness and honesty. So for what it’s worth, here goes…)
I was your average middle class boy growing up in Ireland in the 1960s and 70s. I lived in the idyllic North Dublin suburb of Malahide, at the time still a fairly sleepy seaside town but just starting to grow rapidly as travel in and out of the nearby Dublin Airport really started to, ahem, take off. My father was a pilot with Aer Lingus and we were among the early wave of airport and airline staff families to move in.
Continue reading “My Story (Part 1)”