Tommy’s Pantomimes 

By Breda Nathan 

As ‘Pantomime’ season comes around again I am reminded of our drama days.  

They may have been a bit odd compared to what was on in the Gaiety or Olympia, but we were all ecstatic with our parts.

The fact that we might have had three Cinderellas or three Little Red Riding Hoods on stage at the same time, was never a problem.

Well I mean with a cast of eleven which consisted of only three girls… who was going to be the ugly sisters? Not me or my sister Rosaleen and definitely not cousin Angela.

The wicked Stepmother or witches of any description were out of the question too.

Tommy who produced and directed the shows, liked the sound of his own voice and talked a lot through a soup ladle, we ignored him and he never noticed.  

In the innocent days when clowns were funny and lovable, (never creepy) Freddy, Paul and Raymond from next door were enduring fixtures.

Sean, Hughie and Pat were singers and dancers and Brian, the baby just toddled around the stage. We had no audience, we never needed them.

If someone from the back road came around to swap a comic, they were soon on stage with us.

I often think now of the lovely neighbors, no one ever complained about us, and I have to admit that between us there was little talent.  

We had my Grandfather’s old high factory table and the curtains were my mother’s treasured pre-war blankets.

Post war blankets were never the same she claimed.

When we were introduced through the soup ladle we came out from under the table, but were soon dancing on top of it.  

Rudolph was my song as far back as I remember. It was the only song I ever knew. I still sing it… by request most times, but after a glass of wine I don’t bother with the niceties.

When a friend of mine was emigrating in June, I sang it because we would not be seeing each other for Christmas.  

My parents often bemoaned the fact that they bought a house in a depressing place.

We had Glasnevin Cemetery on one side, St Vincents Orphanage opposite and two doctors as neighbours… We livened it up and I only have wonderful memories of our time there.

St Vincents showed ‘Follyin upper films’ every Friday and a few times a year they had musicals.

We acted them out too. The Mikado and Pirates of Penzance might have clowns and Rudolph in the middle.

On sports days we were Olympic Champions in our mind and took part in everything.  

“All activities need good supporters,” my father always said, and that was to be the height of our achievements.  

When we became exhausted my mother would read Enid Blyton and Sunny Stories to bring the ‘Adrenalin’ down  

This morning I passed by our old garden and longed to go up the path and knock at the door… asking if I could see inside.

There were no cricket bats or tennis rackets, no football and not a sign of our doll’s prams or scooters.  

It was tidy but sad and lonely looking.  

It seems to have shrunk too. In those old days the garden seemed so much bigger. The two big trees are gone and Mrs Mulvihill’s beautiful roses have disappeared.  

I wonder have the rooms shrunk. Is our sitting room still the good room, where you would not be ashamed to bring unexpected callers.  

Our dining room with the huge table and chairs. Our kitchen and scullery and the bathroom so old fashioned.  

The memories are wonderful.

There were six of us and our four cousins who came every day after school, as well as Raymond from next door.  

Alas Rosaleen my beautiful sister has passed on.  

I think of her and our wonderful friendship every day.  

Sadly we also lost Hughie, and this year we lost cousins Angela and Pat… Hopefully they are together somewhere. They all deserve the best.  

In a world where there were no computer games, X-boxes or school trips to exotic places, we had Tommy’s Pantos to amuse us and they were fantastic.  

OH YES THEY WERE…