Conor’s
Story.
Chapter
One – The Arrival.
The
plane landed at Heathrow Airport on time, from Dublin; Conor enjoyed the flight
as he had been allowed to sit on the flight deck for just about the whole
flight, including the landing. He loved
flying, especially when he could spend the time up front where it all
happened. The last passenger left the
plane, he left the flight deck and went to his seat and gathered his hand
luggage and walked off the plane, across the tar-mac and into the terminal
building. It was the start of a new adventure; off to a new school, a boarding
school in England to complete year 12, his last year of school. England of all
places, not home in Ireland as it should be.
But his dad was in the British Army and this school offered a sizable
discount to the children of soldiers and that suited his parents; they weren’t
flush with money.
Conor
gathered his case from the luggage carousel and made his way outside to catch
the airline bus into the city of London so he could catch the train to Wellston
in the Midlands. He checked his watch; it was 11:45 am. His train left Euston
station at 2:20 pm and would arrive in Wellston at 4pm where he would be picked
up by the school bus and driven the two miles to the school; Saint Joseph’s
College.
After
grabbing a bite to eat in the station cafeteria he settled into a window seat
in the compartment ready for the trip.
Conor
was glad that there was no one else in the compartment; he didn’t really feel
in the mood for company right now. He didn’t
know how he felt about this move. He wasn’t scared, he felt apprehensive. He felt sure it was going to be a kind of
adventure and that could be good but it wasn’t one he had chosen; his mam and
dad had. Conor hadn’t really been
consulted on the matter, they had virtually told him that he was going and that
he would enjoy it. As an after thought his mam had asked him if he minded, but
it wasn’t really a question, he was going whether he liked it or not. So here
he was, sitting in a carriage on a train going from London to Wellston and
Saint Joseph’s.
The
train left on time. The compartment was quite hot as the August sun streamed in
through the window. Conor sat mesmerized
by the views of London as the train made its way though the suburbs of one of
the world’s most famous cities. He
didn’t like it one bit. It was so very
big and dirty, especially closer to the city centre. As they moved away from
the city and closer to the countryside it got cleaner but all the houses looked
the same and there were so few trees and open spaces. Nothing like Carraroe,
home, with all the wide-open spaces on one side of his house and the beach and
the Atlantic Ocean on the other side. Conor couldn’t understand why anyone
would want to live in such a dull boring place.
However,
as the train left the suburban sprawl and moved into the countryside the
scenery got much better and he started to relax. The compartment became warm and drowsy and
Conor started to feel sleepy. It had been a long day and it still had a long
way to go. He stretched out and started
to think about the events of the day so far……
“Conor
tis time t’ be gettin up now.” his mam shouted up the stairs.
“Yea
Mam”, he called back, only he was already up and dressed and had been for about
an hour. He had packed the last of his
things in to his case and had sat looking around his room and all his bits and
pieces; they had taken on a much deeper level of importance and attachment just
now. He wouldn’t see all this again
until the Christmas holidays and that seemed like a lifetime away. Right now about a hundred questions, most of
which didn’t seem to have answers were running around in his head. Would he
talk in his Gaelic, would anyone understand or even speak Gaelic? Did they play
Gaelic football and rugby? Would they understand his religious beliefs? After
all, it is a Catholic school and they are bound to want him to go to Mass every
Sunday, maybe more often and believe in the church and all their stuff. Conor was fey and his belief system was of
the ancient times. And how would he get by with out Aoife, his very special
friend and mentor who was teaching him to understand and come to terms with his
beliefs, gifts and the craft. Conor was
Wiccan. He could see this as causing a great deal of trouble if he let it
slip. He was also worried about the
social aspects as well. How well would
he get on with the other boys there, would he be able to mix in well with
them? Did it matter that he didn’t have
a girl friend and never had? How would
he get by without his close friend Ciaran, they did just about every thing
together even some things he couldn’t tell his mam about or any of their other
friends, come to that. How would he cope
being on his own for the first time in his life? On his own, that’s a joke, he thought, there
is going to be another two hundred odd boys there!
All
these thoughts and questions ran around in his head and there didn’t seem to be
any answers or resolutions anywhere. Ah well he thought, there was no point in
getting in a state about it just yet.
Time would tell. He got off his
bed and walked down stairs with his suitcase and backpack and dumped them in
the hall near the front door, then went into the kitchen for breakfast. There wasn’t much in the way of conversation
during breakfast, mostly it was his mam asking if he had finished packing, got
all that he needed, was his uniform in his case and so on. Conor’s dad chimed in with comments about how
they were going through the same process for his posting to Germany. Conor’s dad had been posted to NATO
headquarters in Reindarland and would be leaving with Conor’s mam in a week’s
time.
When
breakfast was over Conor took a last tour of the house and garden so that he
would have a good picture of it in his mind.
Then it was off to Galway city airport for the short flight to Dublin
and then off to London.
As
his flight was called there was a good deal of hugging and emotional good byes
between Conor and his mam and dad. They
had always been very close and not afraid to show their emotions; tears were
not held back. With a final wave Conor
made his way to the plane.
Now
he was on the train to Wellston and the new school. The morning seemed so long ago now and the
good byes seemed to have happened so quickly; ahh well.
Conor
was still thinking about the morning events when the train pulled into the
station at Wellston.
“Well
dis is it.” He said to no one in particular as he gathered his stuff and
stepped down on to the platform. The
station was virtually empty, no body else had got off the train and there were
no other passengers waiting on either of the platforms. He walked to the exit and handed his ticket
to the clerk and walked through the entrance to see a mini bus with the Saint
Joseph’s College” logo on the side and a priest standing next to it. The priest immediately walked over, asked
Conor his name and introduced himself as Fr. Yates, the English master. Introductions completed and bags loaded they
set off on the short drive to the college.
Fr Yates asked how the trip was and had all gone well and by the time
Conor had given him a brief description of his journey from home to Wellston
they were pulling into the school drive.
Conor
looked at the old building and said to him self, “So I’m arrived here now.”
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