When I was 8 months old we moved to 18 Willowfield Street, Cregagh Road in Belfast, which was only eight streets further up towards the Cregagh Hills (from our home on Chatsworth).

In the early 1920s. The side streets were referred to as the backstreetans. I have fond memories of being a child and being put to bed early even though it was still light outside (it could be light up to midnight in the summer.) I remember lying there trying to fall asleep and those backstreet boys would be sitting there on the entry at the back singing. They’re singing was very sweet music.

My earliest recollection…. My brother and I were always very close, so at the age of 3, this was 1915, I decided to go to school with him. I went to school at St. Clements, Church of Ireland Episcopal. My brother, who was seven, walked me to school and left me in the “Baby Infants” class. The school had iron steps running up on the outside to the classes on the 1^st floor. As he was going up the steps to his own class, he looked through the transom window and saw me jumping from desk to desk, with the teacher trying to catch me. I was bawling my head off. I was calling my brothers name… Edmund! Edmund! My brother was so embarrassed.

Needless to say I settled down after that. A few days later, I was reluctant to go out and play in the school yard, so, I peeked at the boys and girls playing. Unfortunately I was looking through the crack where the hinges were and my hand was in the crack. The teacher came along and closed the door.

The School Master’s name was W. W. Whiteside. Everyone called him Weary Willie Whiteside (behind his back, of course). He, and the 4th Grade teacher, Miss Gardner, used to send students with notes to each other. Another recollection I have at 3 years old is, I was taken to get my photograph done at a studio

This is a photograph of my mother Sarah Kelly. My mother Sarah was known for helping to *nurse* sick neighbors or family She took very sick when I was 4 years old.

I have only faint memories of her. I can see her standing at our gate, I was about 3 ½ years old, while my father took a snap of her. She was a beautiful woman, her hair was light brown I believe her hair was naturally curly, and she had a lot of it. She was wearing a lovely white blouse, and a dark skirt, which came to her ankles.

I can also remember her sick in bed and when my brother and I kept bothering her (we wanted to hug her) she would chase us out of the bedroom waving a feather duster. We didn’t understand it at the time because we didn’t know how ill she was. She had tuberculosis. She was trying to keep us from getting ill. My mother was bedridden 6 months before she died. Mother died in February of 1917, she was 38 years old . My brother was eight and a half and I was four and a half. When people came to the ‘wake’ I remember saying “My Mammy has a new blouse.”