Fred Cooke: 'I turned to junk food, sleep and drinking. I was lonely — then along came Julie'
Julie Jay and Fred Cooke on their wedding day
I love being a husband and a dad. It suits me. The time was just right for it to happen. I feel so lucky to be loved by Julie who not only understands me for who I am, but also respects me for what I am. Every day she makes me laugh. I know this is sounding like my wedding speech but it’s true. There is a natural chaos inside of me that needs to be grounded. I needed this stability. But it’s a stability that nurtures my creative chaotic self.
I never realised how much time I had to myself until I became a dad. From the period of when I became a full-time comedian in 2008 to September 2020, I hibernated. Slept until the afternoon, got up, went to a deli-counter, and then told jokes that evening. I loved it. I loved the freedom.
But for all the time I thought I was free I was actually lonely. And because I was lonely I turned to junk food and sleep and drinking — thinking I was living a life without constraints, but really I was lost. Finding Julie was the best thing that could have happened me.
Two weeks ago Julie and I went to her friend's joint 40th birthday party at a Japanese restaurant. I sat across from her and her beauty blew me away. It really hit me in that moment how mad I am about the woman I married.
Not only because of her looks, but her incredible presence and ability to hold a room in the palm of her hands. Like most couples, there are many days when we fight and bicker over silly things. We leave the house in silence until one of us is brave enough to talk again.
It was certainly intense being a first-time dad in lockdown. Once a week I left Kerry to shoot the in Dublin with a letter of permission. The freedom I felt once I got in the car was like heading off on a J1, but that sense of freedom would only be momentary, and before I had hit Limerick I would be dying to be back with Julie and Ted.
Parenting has become much easier and fun now that he’s older. I love to see his character developing and looking at the world through his eyes. He doesn’t see the keyboard as an instrument full of musical rules and exams. It’s just another one of his toys — only this one has more buttons on it. I wouldn’t push music on him, but I’ll have enough music around the house that hopefully he’ll pick it up through osmosis. He loves hitting balls up and down the hallway so hopefully we’ve got ourselves our very own Mcllroy.
Julie is an incredible mom. Ted spends his days following and imitating her. I often joke on stage that I’m worried about Ted’s intelligence as Julie got 400 points more than me in the Leaving Cert. They get each other in way I don’t. Not to mention their chats in Irish.
Dad said to me once, “love is blind, and marriage is an eye-opener”. I don’t know if there is much truth in that, but over these last couple of years, I find my eyes have been opened to how lucky I am to be given these two people I love dearly.
The best part of getting married is finding out that now I own not one, but two melodicas. Cha-ching! Like the secret millionaire that he is, Fred kept this under wraps before announcing his investment on our honeymoon, and by honeymoon I mean the drive back to our house after the wedding.
I like calling Fred my husband, it is my favourite insult to hurl. Since we have been married we have had many challenges thrown our way: not least juggling our various jobs with childcare and living in stunningly beautiful (but far flung) West Kerry. Pre-pósadh and babies we were momentarily living a very simple if admittedly terrifyingly gigless life in lockdown.
As relieved as we are to be back working it has been pretty full-on this last while, but the real issue threatening our marriage is Fred’s penchant for leaving presses open when he gets distracted. Give me adultery! Financial mismanagement! Anything but an open press!
The hardest part of marriage was most definitely the wedding itself. The stress! Horses and carriages and full hair and make-up — Fred’s demands were as long as my fake-tanned arm but just to see the smile on his face on the big day made it all worthwhile.
What I love about Fred is his kindness. He has the best heart, and I love the interest he has in other people. Somebody will come up to collect the census and Fred will have their whole life story in minutes, because he loves the chats, and I think that is such a great sign of him.
Ted, our son, is the best craic. I’ve been obsessed with him since Day One. Every morning when I go into him I say: "Guess what Ted, we get to spend another day together", and he laughs and I laugh and I can’t quite believe my luck. Fred has been away a lot for work and when he is gone Ted and I are a happy little duo, but I always love when he comes home because Fred is an amazing dad. Hearing the laughs they have with each other is the best thing.
The loss of freedom that comes with parenting is definitely an adjustment, and the juggling is really difficult at times, especially when it means cancelling a gig or a work engagement if there is an issue with Ted or if childcare falls through. At the risk of doing female stereotypes irrevocable harm, I have never been a good multi-tasker, and Fred is even worse. Chaos is definitely our love language and as a result we have on more than one occasion been left holding the baby at Barack Obama Plaza.
Last weekend Fred and I played a local gig in Dingle for the Féile na Bealtaine festival. I had been anxious all day, worried that Fred wouldn’t make it, that Ted would object to going for a walk with my auntie while we were on stage, that people wouldn’t laugh, that I wouldn’t be good.
But make it Fred did, and he went out and stormed it. Listening to him back stage I was so proud that he was my man, and that 50% of that melodica was mine. He was so kind in what he said to me after, and that’s why I love Fred: other people in my life have always made me feel like my emotions were a problem, but Fred loves me precisely because of them.
The best part of a marriage is having somebody legally obligated to be on your side. And I love him completely — open presses and all.
- is the new show from Fred Cooke and Julie Jay. It takes place at Siamsa Tíre, The National Folk Theatre of Ireland, in Tralee at 8pm on Saturday, May 21st. Tickets are €15, book on 066 7123055 or www.siamsatire.com. This show is part of Siamsa Tíre's 'Adopt a Show' fundraising initiative, where proceeds from ticket sales go towards local community groups and charities. Use the code ADAPT when booking and proceeds from the sale of your ticket will be donated to the ADAPT Kerry Women's Refuge.
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