Down Memory Lane: "The Rossville Flats, my mansion. The best days of my life"

From the archives: Article taken from the Derry News, Monday, 21st January, 2023

A Derry News reader recalls their time at Rossville Flats in Derry; the difficult memories and those cherished to this day. She remembers the heartbreak and her hero. A cumulation of fondness and fear of a time so many have etched in memory forever.

"My first memory of the flats; I was about seven and we lived at the houses at the back of the walls called Nailors Row. Unfortunately, they were getting demolished. So I remember walking along the railings and my aunty holding my hand tight and me balancing on them. At the end of the railings was Butcher's Gate. 

"I remember her saying, 'Look up.' They were so high. They were the Rossville Street Flats. She had secured a flat on Donagh Place; the highest floor. We walked up the stairs; they were never ending. My legs were getting sore. We finally arrived at our destination. Little did I know what was going to happen in later years.

"We put in the key in the door and I walked in with her. I used to go everywhere with my auntie; she had me spoiled. She seemed to know everyone. All the people were talking about the march for Civil Rights. I was nine years old; I didn't understand. That day would change everyone's life forever.

"The march was a peaceful march but many innocent people were killed."

She said that the day after the march, everything was so silent, "It was as if my auntie and I were the only people living. I still vividly remember seeing bloody rags, blood stains and the smell of blood," they recalled.

"My father came to go to the march but, luckily, he was coming up the steps to get a cup of tea. He met a man he knew on the way down and told him he'd be down soon. Little did he know the would be the last person to speak to him. He was shot dead. Fate has a lot to do with life, I think. 

"I remember the rioting after that; it was never-ending. We used to stand on the balcony- we felt safe because we were so high up. So became the men they called the IRA - fighting for our cause. We were always second class citizens. My auntie told me that only a few Catholics were in the Council and if you were looking for a job, the employer's first question was, 'What school did you attend?'

"I still didn't really understand at the time but later on, I did."

She recollects a time, they were around 13 years old at the time and she and her friend were going to Molly Barr's shop. The shop sold magazines, papers and sweets, "I loved the walnut whips and the pink and white nougat yoghurt," she recalled. A man approached us. He told us he was from America and he wanted to go to the cemetery. Being well warned about strangers, I asked my auntie if we could.

"My auntie said yes, but she was coming too. We walked up to the cemetery. He took photographs of the Bloody Sunday graves. We walked back down to Waterloo Street. He thanked us very much. My auntie missed her calling; she would have made a good tour guide.

"He reached into his inside jacket pocket and brought out his leather wallet. It was bulging with notes. He went and took out a wad of notes to give to my friend and I, 'No, no Mr,' my auntie said, 'It was a privledge.' We were so deflated; what we could have done with that money.

She recalls another day. The first time she truly began to be afraid of the soldiers, "I remember going down the back steps, running down the stairs at fifth floor, A Block," she said.

"A soldier was standing with a large rifle. He pushed the rifle handle into my side. It took the wind out of me. I was bruised for months and eating painkillers. I hid it well and never told my auntie. My ribs ached for months. I began to be afraid of them.

"My auntie was a very holy religious woman. On several occasions we would hear the cathedral bells as we rushed up William Street. A whole row of derelict houses were on the street on our way up. One time, suddenly, gunshots rang. She told me to lie flat on the ground. 

"I was wearing a beautiful white, lace dress. By the time we got to Mass, it looked like I came there on the back of a coal lorry. The dress was bogging. I was so embarassed. I remember my auntie saying, 'God doesn't care about your dress as long as you come to Mass.'"

She can to this day recall her auntie's flat inside and out and describes it as immaculate. "Every Saturday, she cleaned the aluminium footstep with Brasso and a yellow cloth. One day, soldiers were passing and they spat on the step. She looked up at him and smiled. 'Oh, Mr, thank you,' she said. 'That will put a better shine on it.'

"Back in the day, my auntie worked but she was a wee bit more financially secure than others. Every week, we went to John Deery's and got our hair and nails done. There was always a waiting list but because we were regulars, we got to see him.

"He crimped my long black hair and fringe; he always referred to me as Cleopatra. I was the only one who had that hairstyle. I won beauty competitions and modelled for John Deery in the Guildhall. I always had the latest style; I like to stand out from the crowd. My auntie would tell me as you have you hair and nails nice and nice shoes, you can get away with anything in between. 

"I had two good friends from the flats; one I still know and one I lost touch with. I had another two friends from Lawrence Hill. Little did I know, my auntie had handpicked them for me. She always said, 'You can't go wrong having lovely friends like them.' She was right."

Our reader had a large family who also lived in Nailors Row. They were relocated to a new housing estate a few miles away. She unfortunately had an underlying health problem that she kept hidden well, but when she was getting a flare up, her auntie would take her back to them, "I loved and still loved my brothers and sisters; but my memories aren't their memories," she said. 

"Going back to the troubles, we used to visit my other auntie and uncle. They lived in a top flat in Meenan Square. They never had any children. They were religious and so kind too. One day, going into Meenan Square we got caught up with the soldiers and tear gas. 

"There was a key for the whole building and we couldn't even see to get the key in the door. We locked the ground floor which secured the four flats inside. I'll never forget the pain of my eyes; watering, stinging, excrutitating pain. My other auntie ran into the kitchen and got a tea towel soaked with water. For a few days our eyes were bloodshot.

"We used to go on bus runs on a Sunday to several wee villages down South. One time, we came back and the flat was burgled. My auntie knew who it was but it was a far out relation and to prevent shame on the family, she didn't do anything about it.

"Unfortunately, my memory isn't as good as it once was. What I have told, I hope some of you can relate to my story. Maybe not, as this is my own recollection. It was the best time of my life; I'd go back in a heartbeat."

Sadly her beloved auntie has since passed away; a lady she describes as "the best." 

"She would do anything for anybody but was so discreet," she added. "The flat was never raided and was always a place of refuge to anyone who needed it. She helped whoever she could and didn't seek the credit.

"The manners, the faith, the honesty, everything she instilled in me, I carry it with me to this day. But, that is my story, my mansion; The Rossville Flats."