Secret Diary of an Irish Teacher: a nostalgic night in Kerry

Kerry was my first taste of freedom. My parents left me with my aunty from the age of nine. My son is nine now, but the Irish college is gone, the shop is closed, and the once bustling church looks sad, like a forgotten song.

I spent last week in Kerry. School holidays are the best. Who could pretend otherwise?

I’ve been visiting the same spot for thirty years now. As a child, I’d go to mass in the village with my aunty who died several years ago. I remember collecting the papers in the shop across the way for her afterwards, a wooden plank separating me from coveted sweets, and later, cigarettes. In our teens, myself and my cousin went to the Irish college, a stone’s throw from the church doors. We made exotic friends – all the way from Dublin! I had my first real crush there. I very nearly had my first kiss.