CHEMISTRY
When I first saw the title CHEMISTRY for this month’s TENX9 event I thought:
“That’s not for me. Never been in a chemistry lab in my life unless you call catering a science. And I suppose it is in a way. All ingredients coming together to form a whole, raising agents, coagulation, baking soda and buttermilk. All combined without risk of explosion, well maybe a little too much raising agent may cause a little pouffee!
Then I got to thinking. That’s not the only meaning of the word. Chemistry. Chemistry exists between two people or there would be no marriages, partnerships, a connection of souls, a yearning for the other’s company and a complete abiding love for the other person.
I know you’re thinking of husbands and wives, a child and parent or any other type of bonding. My chemistry, my magnetic pull towards another person, the object of my admiration and steadfast loyalty are none of these. My connection remains to this day with The King, Elvis Aaron Presley. This may seem to you humorous or ridiculous or even bordering on insanity but it is the story of my life.
I discovered Elvis as I was heading into my teens, first film I saw in the Clonard picture house on the Falls Road. G.I BLUES. I was completely hooked. Something in Him drew me like a moth to a flame. I suffered with a form of depression during my teenage years and told no one. As a child I had no idea what was wrong with me. No one ever knew until I was married with children and then my condition became more apparent. Those teen years were not pleasant but I had Him. His songs, his music and his loving presence in my life, lifting my spirits.
He is always by my side. I met my husband when I was 16 and when he proposed, I told him in no uncertain terms that if he married me he married The King as well. Aw! He must have been in love! He didn’t argue. When we emigrated to Australia in 1971all my Elvis LPs came with me. No CDs, or Spotify or downloads then. No record player until December 1971.
Whilst I was in hospital in January 1972 having my first born son Jason, my friend from New Zealand was getting married. In she came to the ward in her wedding dress, with new husband in tow – not from her hometown in New Zealand, I might add. She was carrying a beautiful bouquet of red roses which she handed to me and which I still have pressed between an Elvis biography. I was employed in a place called Tuta Laboratories in Sydney and on leaving to return home I was presented with an Elvis LP, again which I still have. My dedication to The King grew and photos of Him were placed all over my house in Antrim. One day my husband queried:
“If I asked you to take down all those pictures what would you say?”
There was silence for a few moments, then he shook his head and muttered:
“Don’t answer that.”
He was my constant companion (Elvis, not my husband) in times of sorrow, happiness, depression. He would always make an appearance either by song or his image displayed wherever I was. After waiting 25 years I arrived in Memphis to see the splendour of Graceland, unfortunately and with great sadness too late to actually see The Man. With four children to raise and a mortgage to pay , funds were not readily available to travel to a concert. Even if I had been fortunate enough to attend a venue I actually don’t think I would have seen Him. The moment he would have walked on to that stage Phyllis would have flat out fainted. The trip was nostalgic and emotional, a lot of tears were shed (not from my husband.) But there was laughter too. On one of the nights in Memphis, I woke in the early hours of the morning, woke my ever suffering husband and requested that he drive me down to Graceland so that I could take pictures of the gates on the hour. I can’t actually repeat his answer. There were a lot of four letter words, expletives and genuine incredulity plus a resounding NO! As the years passed my collection of Elvis memorabilia grew, my favourite piece being a three foot high statue of him.
Now that’s a funny story. Don’t want to go over my allotted time so if I run over I hope to continue the rest next time. Anyway I was getting dental work done in Belfast, Malone Road dentist OoooH! Posh or what! Expensive or what! Borrowed money or what!

My usual dentist is actually in Romania bit that’s another story for another time. After the treatment the dentist informed me that it could be a little painful when the anaesthetic wore off. I took a wee trip into town and lo and behold, in the window of a little shop at the back of M&S stood the statue of The King. I wanted it, I needed it and I got it! All I had left of my treatment money was one hundred pounds. Statue was one hundred and fifty. I was gutted. But I knew he would come through for me. I walked around and came back to the premises. Reduced to one hundred pounds. He was mine!
Having left my car parked at my Mum’s I had to get the bus back to Andytown. Elvis sitting nicely on the seat beside me. A few funny looks but no extra fare requested. I carried My Man right up to the bottom of my Mum’s street, Andersonstown Park West. And fell! Yip! A little pain and I fell! His microphone broke, my heart broke and I cried. Mum and I attempted to fix him but to no avail. I wrapped him in blankets and pillows and he sat in the front seat of my car with only the broken mike showing. My Mum later told me that a young boy travelling down her way turned a bit pale and shouted:
“Oh! That man’s got a gun in his hand!”
I’ve been to Graceland twice, Tupelo where he was born, Germany where he was stationed for a while, Las Vegas with all his concerts and I hope to be able to visit Hawaii next year. The end of my pilgrimage.
My youngest son has the honour of being named after him- AARON. Although sometimes he gets ribbed at work about how he can recognise the opening bars of an Elvis tune. I used to hold him up in front of the TV screen when he was a baby so that he would remember to whom he was named.
But actually Aaron always thought for a while that the flags throughout our town of Antrim were for him. He was born on the 11th July.
May we never forget The King of Rock and Roll. I know I won’t. My one request when I pass is that my ashes be spread over Graceland grounds. When I asked my Grandkids to put my ashes in each of their pockets, make a wee hole in the bottom and shake me out as they walked round the grounds. My oldest granddaughter was very indignant.
“I’m not putting you in my pocket, Nanny! I want you somewhere were I can go and visit you.”
Love is a wonderful thing!