Norma Sheahan: The life lesson I would like to pass on is work backwards

What surprises me most in life is how humans forget how horrible hangovers are. And how rarely people spell my name correctly. 

Norma Sheahan for This Much I Know

I grew up on a farm in Whitechurch, Co Cork, daughter of Joe and Nora Sheahan, with four sisters, Sinead, Blathnaid, Paula and Jan-Marie. Granny Sheahan lived in the farmhouse next door, she made great desserts and puddings. Timmy Foley worked on the farm for decades, he did a lot of the rearing too. He cycled up from Carrignavar every morning on his high nelly. A wonderful man. He’d sometimes chase us with crows and mice. Auntie Fionnuala lived down the field and she was always kind. She’d laugh so hard that she cried. And then up the field were more cousins, the O’Sullivans. Their home was like a farmer’s market long before markets became trendy.

My childhood was busy. Dad trained horses, farmed, and was involved in haulage, so there were always vets, blacksmiths, jockeys, owners, combined harvesters, tractors, trailers, bulk tanks, beet trucks, cattle, calves, cats and dogs. Primary school was in Whitechurch and secondary school was in Cork city, St Angelas. We had no bus route the seven miles from Whitechurch to Cork city but we still got there by lifts or thumbing. My parents somehow gave us every opportunity going — ponies, drama, tap dancing, swimming, guitar, piano, ballet, singing, basketball.