Colm O'Regan: A school tour to Dublin in the 1980s was huge for a Cork kid

Comedian and Irish Examiner columnist Colm O'Regan pictured in Cork. Pic: Denis Minihane.

Sometimes the English language isn’t enough. 

The Youngest was going on her first school tour this morning and the word “excited” feels too banal to describe her mood. 

I need Irish. She was “ar bís” this morning. “Bhí sceitimíní uirthi” (phonetically [erbeeesh] and [shketimeenee])

It’s the delirious anticipation of going on a school tour. And it was a sunny morning too. 

Is there any morning sunnier than a school tour morning? 

The air seems cleaner even if tinged with a lot of diesel from the bus being driven by the laconic driver who knows he has a long journey of chants to listen to, and is just soothing himself with Nox.

Are children still chanting on buses? 

We could barely go to the next junction before a round of 'Everywhere we GO-OH/PEOPLE ALWAYS ASK US/WHO WE A-ARE/AND WHERE DO WE COME FROM?/MIGHTY MIGHTY DRIPSEY' rang out.

And so starts the primary School Tour time of year. The Hector Greys time of year.

There will be people who tell you they were brought to the bog or Mountjoy or a sheet-metal fabricator's on their school tour. 

By contrast, Dripsey National School was a fun factory. I went on four tours that I can remember. They were in a steadily increasing level of exotic.

Farran Woods — we went there in cars. It’s only across the Lee from Dripsey. My mother helped out. I think she wore white trousers for one of only three times in her life.

Fota — My first time on a train. And it was a suburban train! Children commuting on a train?! What is this? Deutsch Heute in Saarbrucken?

3rd/4th class was the classic trip to Bunratty Castle. There were crannógs and castles but the only thing I can remember clearly was that I had a pound to spend and had to bring home the change. 

Which is a warning to all parents. Your children will forget everything you did for them and remember very specific moments of penny-pinching for the rest of their lives.

It was all building up to the big one though. 

6th class. Dublin Zoo. The early Cork Dublin train. 

The shortest sleep I’d had since the last time I got the early Cork-Dublin train. Transport with a toilet on it, a toilet that flushed by pressing the button on the floor. 

This was practically Blade Runner.

I remember very little of Dublin. My friend Daniel reminds me that because it was June 1990, pretty much everyone was dressed in Italia 90 gear from various Penneyses. 

Not our headmaster. He would have worn That Brown Suit to Coachella. 

The zoo seemed massive, with plenty of room for animals, what were they complaining about? We even got to hold and feed a baby chimpanzee. 

The zoo was nearly broke that time so maybe they needed the staff. This was 34 years ago in zoological gardening, so it’s possible that down in a basement the Lord of Greystoke was trying to free an ape.

I brought my father’s camera. Every photo came out off-centre, because the viewfinder was to the top left of the lens, and I was over compensating. Just like the rest of my life.

We walked into town to the Wax Works Museum. 

I don’t remember the detail of Dublin then, which is a pity, because that version of Dublin has largely been replaced and is now only present in Eamon MacThomáis videos on YouTube. 

But how huge Dublin was for the Cork person! You’d walk for a bit, and there was still no sign of the Lee Fields or a steep hill. Just more city, and people called Steo.

The Youngest is home from their day out. She is now suffering withdrawal symptoms from the Sceitimíní. 

I feel your pain, girl.