A forgotten generation forced into exile – in their own land
Published 21/04/2014 | 02:30
THE family are sitting around the table for their dinner on Easter Sunday. The aroma of roast lamb in rosemary and thyme is timeless. Gravy thick and brown. Gravy only your mother can make. Mam fussing. Loving to be busy. She drains the perfect spuds from the sandy soil over by the coast. Takes up carrots as sweet as apples .
The kids still love to get the Easter eggs. The oul fella says "no Easter eggs until after the dinner", even though his children are all over 25. For the fun of it, they ask if it's okay to open a small one. "Go on," he says. "Just the one." Dad was always useless at being strict.
The first grandchild is passed from loving arms to loving arms. The daughter-in-law says the baby looks like his Dad and her father-in-law says "no the baby is like your people".