The
hands of the school clock slowly wound their way towards three
o"clock. My mind was far away from the history lesson in progress.
Instead of the battle of Clontarf, I was riding across the
prairie with the Lone Ranger and Tonto. It was the day our
first television set was to arrive. Free from school at last,
we raced up the lane towards home. Then I saw it! Perched
majestically on the chimney pot, its metal spikes reaching
towards the heavens. Little shivers of excitement ran up and
down my spine. "The aerial is up already, I wonder if it's
come yet?" my young brother said breathlessly. "Just think,
we won't have to run down the wet fields to Me Connell's to
see the Lone Ranger anymore," I chipped in. We burst into
the kitchen, throwing our school bags and coats at our feet.
The shelf stood empty to our great disappointment.
"It hasn't
come yet," my mother said. "I wouldn't be a bit surprised
if it"s not smashed to smithereens, the way the railways throw
things around," my father commented from behind his newspaper.
We felt somewhat deflated at this piece of bad news. It was
easy to imagine railway porters throwing our precious television
onto carriages to get smashed to pieces. "God please don't
let this happen," I silently prayed. Half an hour later the
van arrived in the yard. We ran out excitedly, just as the
door was opened. Our fears about the porters throwing it around
were soon laid to rest when we caught sight, of the huge crate
which must have weighed a ton. It took the might of my father,
my'oldest brother. Mickey the van driver and Paddy our burly
neighbour to lift it off the van. With the help of a claw-hammer
the crate was dismantled.
The old rags and straw packing were discarded in endless bundles.
Then at last the enormous wooden cabinet appeared out of the
straw and rags. The small fourteen inch screen looked lost
in its oak surround. But to us it was the most beautiful sight
we had ever seen. Then began the task of hauling it into the
house. "Now lift when I say, careful now," my brother instructed
as all helpers shuffled forward under its weight. At last
it was in place seated on a sturdy table. It was wisely decided
unanimously that the shelf was not strong enough to support
its weight. When finally it was wired up and plugged in, we
held our breath in anticipation. A loud hissing sound came
from it, then a blizzard appeared on the screen. "The aerial
needs adjusting that's all, my big brother said encouragingly.
With this all hands went to the street as he climbed the ladder
to the aerial. My father tutted and grumbled as he battled
with the mountain of hastily discarded packing. We formed
a human chain from the blizzard on the screen to the yard,
while my brother twisted and turned the aerial. "No nothing
yet, wait, that's a wee bit better We have the sound now,"
I shouted as hissing strains of Adarn Faith singing 'Poor
Me' could be faintly heard. A little more fine tuning and
a picture emerged to our great relief. "Let joy be unconfined!
" said my father mockingly. We all settled down to watch the
Beverly Hillbillies through a light snow flurry, when Paddy
O'Neill came in. To our amazement he showed
no interest in the television whatsoever. Instead he began
his usual conversation with my father about the weather and
the crops. The only difference from other nights was the raised
voices. When he got up to go he stopped momentarily in front
of the TV. "Them contraptions will never catch on you know,"
he said.
