What is Sin? Mortal sin, venial sin. How do you differentiate? Mortal sin is if you kill someone, rob a bank or listen to Daniel O’ Donnell songs. Venial sin is if you fall out with your friends, cheat on an exam or listen to Daniel O’ Donnell songs. I mean, a new baby is lumbered with original sin before they draw their first breath. What’s that all about?
I don’t know what mine might be called. If a venial sin I’ll still get to Heaven with maybe a reprimand. Although why I’d want to go there I don’t know. I’d like to be drinking Harp not playing it.
Anyway, I was sixteen, working in Hughes bakery on the Springfield Road. Loved it , made lots of friends inside and out. Two of my best friends, who shall be nameless, in case they ae picked up after all these years for instigating a crime. They dared me to steal a lipstick from the chemist on the Springfield Road. Not just any lipstick, mind you. Strawberry Meringue, the lippie of the sixties. Pink, shiny, glittering, tasting wonderful. Hence the name. My boyfriend would love it!
“I can’t do that!” I protested, me being a strictly brought up Catholic girl. Thankfully not now.
“G’wan! G’wan! They encouraged. I must admit I didn’t take much persuasion. It would be an adventure, something I’d never attempted before and let me tell you, never would again. A one off! My nose up to Catholicism!
The day of the heist arrived and I have to admit I tried to get out of it, adventure or no adventure. Even though my boyfriend would love the taste and feel of the super duper strawberry, he would be horrified if he knew what I was about to do. I hadn’t yet allowed him to get to second base. Didn’t realise how good it would be. He might even drop me. Oh no! I couldn’t have that.
My two so called friends were adamant.
“I just can’t do it!” I pleaded.
Ah! G’wan! G’Wan!”
I can’t remember the name of the chemist but it was looming closer as we walked down the street. Three would -be criminals, laughing and joking. Well, I wasn’t, although my tears could have been mistaken for laughter. I was shoved in the door and just stood there like a statue. Suspicious looking or what.
Whispers behind me.
“Get in. You look stupid.”
I tried the old “couldn’t care less sway, you know, I’m just here for a nosy, then I’ll be on my way sway. But then I saw it. Glinting, sparkling, calling to me.
“Take me. I’m yours.”
Oh! I could picture it now. Screwing from the bottom, the tip glistening as it rose and rose – to the top. Hard and strong, offering joy and ecstasy , this solid organism excites! Sorry, sorry!! A bit of the old Fifty shades there. Just one shade for me. Strawberry Meringue. An organism so sweet. Sorry folks. I’m off again.
Seamus would love it. The taste I mean as we kissed and he’d be getting fed as well. A bonus!
I glanced around like a real pro, eyes darting everywhere, making sure no store detectives, or eagle eyed staff and shoppers were aware of my intentions. Did I look like a lipstick snatcher? No balaclava on me. Oh wait. That was for those other people in the sixties. I meandered as innocently as I could get over to the make up stand, picking things up, hmming and haaing, then putting the items back. I’d make a pretty good actress, I don’t think.
I could feel the draw of that sweet smelling tube. Without being obvious about it I reached out and lifted it, swivelled it open and sighed. I grabbed another lipstick, just for show, then deviously slid my prize into my trouser pocket. It really was very light, but not in my pocket. It felt like a rock ,pushing me down on one side. I’d be walking funny. People would notice. I could see my two friends out the window, waving wildly and urging me to get out of the shop.
“Don’t run!” they mouthed
“Walk normally.”
How could I with a heavy weight in my pocket and in my heart. I was a thief . My other half wouldn’t want to know me. So disappointed in me. No going back. The deed was done. I was a dirty criminal. My prize was precious but I never ever did it again. I lived like a good girl, sin free life from then on. That’s a lie. Another sin. And another one is the fact that this story is only partially true. Due to the fact that it happened a long, long time ago, the details are a little hazy. I was sixteen! Now, I did steal the lipstick, that’s true but the actual events leading up to the deed are lost in the realms of time. I did work in Hughes bakery on the Springfield Road and loved it. I did make two special friends, still nameless.
So sorry Folks, I committed the biggest sin of all. Lying to this wonderful audience. Well, no not lying as such, just a faded memory of an event which did happen. I wish I had that lipstick now but unfortunately Max Factor ceased to produce it. Sometimes I’ll see it for sale on the Internet at an exorbitant price because it’s now rare.
So that’s two sins in my life. No, three. I forgot about that original sin that’s bestowed on innocent babies. Lying to one’s spouse is not considered a sin, venial or mortal. It’s just a way of life. Everyone does it.
“Is that a new dress, coat, shoes etc.,?”
“No! Been in my wardrobe for years. You just didn’t notice me wearing it. But then you never do.”
Wife to husband.
Husband to wife.
“Where are you ? Dinner’s on the table.”
Just working a little overtime to buy you something nice,Dear.”
Yeah! Right!
Apologies Folks. Hope y’all forgive me. Now I’ll hang my head in shame and slink back to my seat.

MIND
I was jobless and bored with four kids, well five really if you count my hubby, and a mortgage. No, that’s not fair. He was working his butt off but it was never enough . I needed to find work. I toured around Antrim, knocking on premises doors and eventually my efforts paid off. I landed the role of cook in a house in Rathen Raw estate. It was named Rathen Raw Hostel. Just an ordinary Housing Executive home owned by Holywell Hospital. Residents from the hospital were encouraged to live outside the constraints of the medical building. It was headed by two doctors, Dick and Jackson. Lovely, easy going guys. Always available when needed. I settled in nicely there and spent many happy days in the kitchen cooking up dinners and treats for everyone.
Actually I had two job offers at that time. One permanent in the Bailiwick restaurant in Antrim town. It’s gone now. Well, how permanent would that have been! Also the position in the Hostel. Wow, how popular am I? They probably couldn’t get anyone else! The Hostel placement was never going to be mine. The lady was out on maternity leave and would be returning soon. Why did I choose the temporary post? I don’t know. It just appealed to me. I’m so glad I did. I made good friend there, both staff and residents. Jimmy, one of them was a lovely man. A dedicated Elvis fan to boot. He knew a fact about the King that I didn’t and should have known. Elvis favourite record I Was The One, which will be played at my demise when the kids are hurling me over Graceland Gates. They say they are going to sell all the Elvis pieces I have, book a flight to Vegas, ask the pilot to hover over Memphis and just dump me out the plane window. I might have to tell them that both places are a good few miles apart. If that happens I will know. Well I won’t obviously! On my first trip to Graceland I wrote Jimmy’s name on the Wall and brought him back a little gift.
Another resident I got friendly with and I can’t remember her name. That’s awful but the age I’m at now I’m lucky I remember my own name. Anyway one day I had gone out to empty the kitchen bin, heard a crash, came running back in, fell and completely skidded across the kitchen floor and landed on my back. The lady had decided to come and help me and had lifted the deep fat fryer which unfortunately was still a little warm. Bang! Down I went! Thankfully reasonably unharmed. I think she was more shaken up than I was. All Shook Up! Had to get a bit of Elvis in there. Those two incidents come to mind first before the Saga of the Mad Cow Disease. I was probably the Mad Cow who didn’t listen to the media or chose to ignore it.1994 it was when it raised its ugly head and no beef products were considered safe for human consumption. Well, that’s not quite true. People were afraid to eat them because of all the hype. So what does Phyllis the cook do! She grills beef sausages for dinner. Of course none of the residents would eat them. If I remember rightly, I think Dick and Jackson did have them to try to encourage the rest but no go. Good sausages wasted. My own know best, stubborn fault.
During the time I was employed there my husband’s fortieth happened. I had made friends with two of the housekeepers, Grace and Valerie, lovely ladies. Out of the goodness of their hearts they decided to make a load of sandwiches for the birthday party. I was so grateful but I have to hold my hands up to a bit of criminal activity. All bread and ingredients were snaffled from the Hostel and we didn’t feel the least bit guilty. There was plenty. Unfortunately my two cohorts were unable to attend the function.
I so enjoyed my time there but as I said it wasn’t my job. Time to leave. I did find employment in Holywell Hospital’s large kitchen. Size of a football field. But had no contact with the residents at all. Not the same at all. Everything cooked for a multitude. No individuality.
Most people experience some kind of a downer in their lives, maybe more than one. But nothing compares to the depth depression can take. It’s sometimes named The Black Dog and people telling you to snap out of it is not helping. I have suffered from it in one form or another since before my teens. But at that young age I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me and I told no one. My friends just thought I was odd and very quiet. Later in life it developed into severe depression, resulting in my absence from work for many months .I have my downers in life like everyone else now but thankfully never as bad. If anyone ever feels more than a passing sadness please talk to someone. It really helps. There are many organisations out there ready to listen. I attended a counsellor for a few weeks and look at me now. I’m a complete nutcase and my friend Esther in the audience there would verify that. I’m joking! I think! I’ve got my life back and hoping to return to stand up comedy, I’m writing and have a website, phylliscreative.com. If anyone has a spare minute I ‘d be so grateful if you would follow me. Have to warn you though some content is a little bluey!! Which reminds me. One day, when my granddaughter was in primary school she wanted to show her friends her Nanny’s website. Unfortunately she clicked on one of the adult only stories. Her teacher was standing behind her.
“Keeley, what are you looking at?”
“My Nanny’s website, Miss.”
Flip, I was waiting for the NSPCC to arrive at my door.
Thank you for listening and please look after your mental health and that of others.

I interpret class as a place to attend to further your education, make new friends, learn new things with a teacher as leader. I was five when I started St Terea’s Primary School on the Glen Road. I remember my Mum leaning out the living room window, waving the conscription letter. She looked a lot happier than she really should have been. Ecstatic actually. Motherly love eh?? I was joined on this adventure by my friend Esther, who is actually still my friend, both really excited to see what we were heading into.
I vividly remember not being able to rearrange my desk chair on top of my desk at end of day. It was like a monkey puzzle to me. Should have been easy. Just turn it upside down and set the chair seat on the table. Simple enough! Not for me! My mind went blank. All of my peers seemed comfortable with it. Why not me! Seems really stupid now. I can do it in my sleep.
Wagon wheels were another mystery. Not that I couldn’t eat them. I sure could. Big, round biscuit filled with jam and marshmallow, covered in chocolate. Bigger than a child’s hand. Not now. Not today. What happened? Did I get bigger or did they get smaller? I think the latter. They are like fifty pence pieces in size, well maybe exaggerating a bit but not much bigger. No jam in the middle. Shocking! A crime against humanity and all those wee primary school kids looking for a treat at their break time.
We had a concert in our class one day. Real treat. One girl sang a Lonnie Donegan song. Everyone know who Lonnie Donegan was? Flip! I’m so old! “Rock Island Line” it was called. Then we mimed Jesus carrying the cross to Calvary. Those two incidents don’t seem to fit, do they? I mean, He wasn’t walking to Calvary to the tune of Rock Island Line. Anyway no matter when it was I was cast as Veronica, you know the one who wiped His Face with her soft touch, azure blue new M&S towel.
“Jesus!” she shouted. “ Oh there you are. How am I going to get the stain out of these, eh? Bought just because I thought you were staying over. My home not good enough. I see you’ve brought your own accommodation. Gee I’ve heard of tortoises carrying their homes on their backs but that beats it all. Did the tent blow away?”
Poor Man. He was too tired and sore and His burden too heavy to pay any heed to her.
Sorry. Hope nobody’s offended. Just a wee bit of humour. Back to the class. Do you remember the cane? The dreaded cane! Wouldn’t be allowed now thankfully. Capital punishment or what! I got caned one day for no apparent reason. Frig that’s really sore on the palms of your hand. I think all teachers were sadists in the fifties and sixties. I think it was Ms Owens and do you know what she said when she found out I was innocent.
“Ah well. That’ll do for the next time.” No apology, nothing. I remember that same teacher walking down Andersonstown one day and as I looked at her I wondered what those pointy things were poking out of her chest area. I was very young at the time. Conical bra! Remember them! Now I know I’m getting on a bit but not old enough to have worn one of those. Not any bra actually. God must have forgotten about me when He gave out the attributes.
One incident that really sticks in my mind and will forever, causing me to never have a compost bin or go fishing. It was decided that St Teresa’s School would have an outdoor mass at the back of the church. So we paraded over in our twos, excited to be out of class for a while. The grass must have been newly cut at the time or it probably wouldn’t have happened. We were told to kneel down and as I proceeded to do so, legs slightly bent, I froze. Wriggling among the green were worms! A lot of them! I couldn’t kneel down in that. I just couldn’t! A shout from my teacher:
“ Kneel Down!” and I had to do it. I was nearly sick. No one else seemed to notice or else these wee creatures didn’t bother them. I was traumatised for life! I often wonder if I was hallucinating , you know the fresh air going to my brain. Out of the stuffy classroom! But I don’t think so.
Grammar school wasn’t much better for me .It was a shock to the system initially. Numerous teachers, different classrooms. Some hard to find or so I was told. Pretend you got lost in the corridors and missed the class. Not great advice. I was never one of the elite popular crowd. Skinny with glasses and from the wrong side of the tracks, poor that is, I was shunned except for the two Kathleens. Kathleen Shaw and Kathleen O’ Neil. The three muskateers. I was in the Domestic Science class. I think my two comrades were as well. We had to sew a blouse together one time. Easy yeah! Not! I ended up with a rag of a thing with one sleeve missing and if I remember rightly the back open to the elements. I looked like I’d been attacked by a lion. My Mum being a dressmaker you’d think it would have rubbed off on me. Nope! We had to parade in front of the Headmistress. And to make matters worse I think I was chewing gum at the time. She was not a happy bunny nun!
Then on to the cooking. Yip! This particular Domestic Science day involved some pastry and apples. Apple cakes! Must have been coming up to Halloween. Easy again you say. Nope! Talking of Halloween it seem sixpences hidden in apple cakes not allowed any more. Health and safety reasons! Flip! The fun’s gone out of the world. Anyway on to my catering skills which is none! Then! My tutor got so frustrated with me. I couldn’t get the pastry to roll out without flipping breaking up in pieces. I think after quite a few attempts and a pile of crumbs on my board she shouted:
“Oh for Goodness sake, make it apple crumble!”
I’m a qualified cook now and I’m sure she wouldn’t have predicted that for me.
To finish with two wee incidents. While I was at St. Teresa’s Primary, my Mum was worried about the amount of reading I was doing and she approached my teacher who advised her.
“Mrs Hillen, if she’s reading the back of a cornflakes box let her.” My love of books and writing has never left me. I’m been writing from a very young age.
In St Dominic’s Grammar a nun came into our classroom one day and quizzed us on what we wanted to be when we grew up. There were doctors, nurses, dentists, lawyers. She came to me.
“ I want to meet Elvis Presley.”
“You’re putting nails in your own coffin wee girl.”
I really don’t know what that meant because when I throw off this mortal coil I am being cremated and thrown over Graceland gates.

CLASS