1928 - 1998

Ernest McConville (my father) was born in Tandragee on 12th May 1928. When he was almost 4 years old, his father died and he moved back to Roslea, Co. Fermanagh with his mother and siblings. After a while spent in a convent, he and his brothers came to live with his mother, Susan, in Annashanco, Roslea, where he remained until 1948, when he joined the R.A.F. He travelled to various places, including Khartoum in Egypt. He ended up stationed at R.A.F. Hixon in Staffordshire, where he met a girl called Betty Bloor. Things didn't work out as her father was not keen on her seeing him but they always kept in contact right up till his death in 1998. In 1953 he left the R.A.F. and ended up in the hounslow area, where his brother's, Mark, john and Joseph were living and working. He lived and worked there as a labourer and met my mother, Alison Taylor, through Mark's then girlfriend, Joan smart.

       My father and Alison were married on 25th June 1960 in Gretna Green, Scotland. Her father opposed the marriage so Alison told him she was going on holiday with a friend but, instead, eloped with my father. Her father found out what was going on and travelled up to Scotland to bring her home. She managed to get away and back to Scotland where they finally married.

       They moved to the Shepherd's Bush area in London, where they first rented a room in Sinclair Road and then moved to Frithville Gardens. In November 1961, my sister, Sadie (named after my aunt), was born. My mother started to show signs of mental illness while pregnant with Sadie. My brother, John, was born next in March 1963 and I came along in March 1966. My mother got ill again (diagnosed as schizophrenia) when she had me and spent a long period in hospital. My mother was to spend the rest of her life in and out of hospital for her illness until she died, 14th September 2004. My father did his best to juggle bringing up his children while looking after my mother, which lead to financial struggle too but he just got on with it.

         There were some fun times along with the struggles. My father was one of many Irish living in England and so he would regularly meet up with friends and acquaintances who were in the same boat. A few of the places he went to were the Garryowen, a dancehall in Hammersmith, Biddy Mulligans in Kilburn and the Stewart Arms pub in Shepherds Bush. There was also a club attached to the RC Church in Brook Green (Shepherds Bush) where lots of Irish families would go to dances and discos. Friends who used to attend were Jimmy and Eileen Flynn, John Tubridy, John Donnellan and a man called Chris. I never knew his surname but they all called him Corky Chris so I gathered he came from County Cork. I remember whenever we were in the Church Club and there was a live band, everyone would ask dad to get up and sing a song. He had a great voice and loved Country and Western music. One of my favourites was "Mule Train", dad would pick up a drinks tray and whack it on his leg while singing it. When us children were a bit older dad would take us to the greyhound racing at White City, along Wood Lane, and we would end up in the Stewart Arms pub on Norland Road, W11 until very late. My brother and I visited the pub yesterday (22 March 2010) and were pleased first of all to see it was still there but also that it had not changed from how we remembered it about 30 years ago. There is a new landlord now and it will be refurbished soon but remains a pub used by many Irish people. You can see some photos here. I'll try to remember some of the other people we knew and places we used to go.

         In 1978, my mother left my father and went to live with a man she'd met while in Banstead Hospital. Sadie, John and I remained with my father. We had moved to 51a Lakeside Road, still in Shepherds bush, in 1967 and in 1979, we moved to a bigger house in Fulham. My mother ended up living there in 1984/85 as the man she was living with had died and she became ill once again. My father took her in and looked after her from that time on, although they were divorced by then. My sister was now suffering from the same illness as my mother and my father looked after both of them.

        He had a massive heart attack in March 1992 and another in August 1996. In the summer of 1997, my father made, what was to be, his last trip home to Roslea, to see his family and friends. He died a year later, with his heart, on 2nd July 1998.