Aingeala Flannery: The hardest thing ever was being the lone parent of a sick child

Picture: Bríd O'Donovan

I was born in Waterford.

My mam is from south Kilkenny and my dad was from Lancashire. I was the middle child of three. 

My parents met in England and moved to Waterford after my brother was born. 

Because we moved house a lot and my father was English, I always felt like we were blow-ins. 

When I was 11, we moved to Clondalkin in Dublin. Our family life revolved around hurling and plumbing. I left home at 17 and didn’t stop moving until I was 30.

My earliest memory is a sensation. I hated knickers when I was small, so I’d take them off and hide them. I remember the feeling of ice-cold air around my arse in winter.

I remember running through snow in the People’s Park in Waterford, I was afraid of daisies, and my mam, or maybe my brother, told me the daisies were asleep beneath the snow. I ran back to the footpath for fear the daisies would wake up and get me.

Was I born to be a writer? I believe in self-determination. The idea that you’re born into a certain life is objectionable to many.

I’m proud of where I come from. The two biggest themes in my writing are family and class.

From a young age, I was a perfectionist and put great effort into whatever I wrote, redrafting before I even knew what redrafting was.

When I understood what a journalist did, I wanted to be one because I thought that was how you got to write every day. 

Was I destined to be a published author? No. That would’ve been too entitled and presumptuous a thought.

The hardest thing ever was being the lone parent of a sick child. Luckily, I’d a permanent job, health insurance, and a supportive boss. But I very nearly didn’t keep the boat afloat. 

It sickens me that children are born into disadvantage and homelessness in Ireland. They don’t get a chance and the generational trauma it creates is immoral.

What I’m most proud of is my teenage son. Sometimes when I see him around his friends, or coaching younger kids, or talking to adults, I think ‘God, he’s so patient and helpful and sociable.’

I get a different version of him, of course. But when he doesn’t know I’m watching, what I see makes me feel very proud. It’s not my achievement, it’s his achievement, he has chosen to behave that way.

Author Aingeala Flannery. Pic: Conor Horgan

I’d like to think I act with integrity. It’s the quality I admire most in others.

The person I go to when I’m struggling with something is my friend Jo. She’s the most generous and dynamic person I know. I was blown away by her chutzpah when we met as teenagers. Thirty-five years later I’m still admiring her. It feels like we grow closer as we age. There’s nothing I wouldn’t tell her.

If there’s a lesson I’d like to see my son carry into adulthood it’s not to let anyone take advantage of his good nature. Narcissistic characters make great fiction, but in real life, they’re leeches who will feed off your empathy and kill you slowly.

The best advice I’ve got and took on board was the old adage about not putting your eggs in one basket.

Self-employment was the norm in my family and it was a given that you’d do a couple of jobs simultaneously.

I’d like people to remember me as a loyal and fair person, who wasn’t half as miserable as she looked in photographs.

There are many things I’ve done that I wouldn’t do again. But regret is more about the things I didn’t do. 

My father died suddenly when he was 54 and if I could change one thing, it would be to tell him how much I loved him. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and I hate to think he died without knowing he was loved. 

Becoming a parent softened me. I really believe love is what ails us and heals us. My next book will be dedicated to my father.

Hyper-consumerism based on wants not needs will destroy the planet. I’ve always recycled and bought second-hand clothes, furniture, and cars. Built-in obsolescence is at the top of my shit list. We’re consumers, not citizens. 

Incentives for electric cars, solar panels, and home insulation do nothing to address fuel poverty. The ‘green economy’ is a capitalist construct. We still can’t get the basics right. I came across onions from New Zealand in the supermarket last year. How stupid is that?

I suppose writing is my skill. I’m a good listener. Occasionally, I’ve a great serve in tennis. An ace.

The most surprising things happen when I’m writing, when I’m in deep, the characters reveal themselves and wind up in situations I didn’t foresee. God, it’s magical, but you can’t force it. It’s always a surprise.

Groupthink frightens me. It can escalate to hatred and atrocity so quickly. I worry much less than I used to, but I will always be anxious about the safety of my child.

I love radio and I love bartending. Those are the careers I left behind to write. I like hearing people’s stories. 

Recently, I watched the documentary First Call, about characters drinking in early houses in New York back in the day. I could see myself serving them. Whenever I get a chance to hop in behind a bar, I take it.

• Aingeala Flannery’s novel The Amusements is the Kerry Group Irish Novel of the Year 2023. Catch her in conversation with Rick O’Shea at Write by the Sea in Kilmore Quay, Co Waterford, on September 23.