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Forbidden Love
Writing 'Forbidden Love '
It has taken me 8 years to write 'Forbidden Love'. Many rejections and bad advice, so I decided to self publish. In 2012 all I had to go on was self belief and my love for Ireland and my grand mother. All I knew about Nana's Irish family, was her two brothers, Alec and Christy, and the story of Kevin Barry. Then Joseph Knox, Chrissie's grandson, made contact from Dublin . He devised a wonderful family tree. From this I found James, Chrissie, Essie, Mary Josephine and many more of my Irish relatives.
He travelled from Dublin to Cardiff with his brother Bernard to meet with me and other members of my family. When I met with my two Irish cousins they were astounded how much I looked like their grandmother Christina (Chrissie) and when I visited them in Dublin their sister said the same.
How strange I had a job at Jacobs Biscuit factory like Chrissie but I turned it down. I chose to work in a sewing factory like Nana. I also took part in many demonstrations, like Chrissie and Maggie. 'The Right to Work' March, shouting “out, Maggie, out, out, out,” the Miners Strike, Greenham Common Marches , the ‘Stop the War Coalition.’ I marched against the invasion of Iraq and resigned as a
councillor over the invasion, I also marched for Syria .
In 2014, I visited Christy’s son, Christopher, in Limerick . Chris gave me the layout of Red Cow Lane, O’Donovan Rossa and the story of my father looking like Elvis. Sadly, Chris Crosbie died in 2016.
I also visited Kilmainham Gaol and wept where they shot the Sixteen. I walked the streets Nana walked, played and lived.
In 2015, I walked the coast of Donegal and Antrim. I was flying home from Dublin . The night before I flew home to Wales , I called in to 'Cobblestones' that was once called 'Carolans'. The pub was opposite where Nana lived. I read and performed my poetry, the same place my father sang in 1957 and where my Nana and her family drank. I had many drinks bought for me that night. Irish, Brazilian, Germans, Americans and Spanish. I declined most of the drinks because I was flying home early in the morning.
At the end of the evening and after many goodbyes I walked outside Cobblestones, looked up to the summer clear sky and I knew my father and my Irish relatives were looking down.
Nana never spoke of what she witnessed, only Kevin Barry. I
believe that Nana was too traumatised. Dublin from 1916 to when Nana left 1921 was equivalent to Syria and Iraq . War torn and broken. I took up the pen and chose to write what Nana could not talk about.
It has taken me 8 years to write 'Forbidden Love'. Many rejections and bad advice, so I decided to self publish. In 2012 all I had to go on was self belief and my love for Ireland and my grand mother. All I knew about Nana's Irish family, was her two brothers, Alec and Christy, and the story of Kevin Barry. Then Joseph Knox, Chrissie's grandson, made contact from Dublin . He devised a wonderful family tree. From this I found James, Chrissie, Essie, Mary Josephine and many more of my Irish relatives.
He travelled from Dublin to Cardiff with his brother Bernard to meet with me and other members of my family. When I met with my two Irish cousins they were astounded how much I looked like their grandmother Christina (Chrissie) and when I visited them in Dublin their sister said the same.
How strange I had a job at Jacobs Biscuit factory like Chrissie but I turned it down. I chose to work in a sewing factory like Nana. I also took part in many demonstrations, like Chrissie and Maggie. 'The Right to Work' March, shouting “out, Maggie, out, out, out,” the Miners Strike, Greenham Common Marches , the ‘Stop the War Coalition.’ I marched against the invasion of Iraq and resigned as a
councillor over the invasion, I also marched for Syria .
In 2014, I visited Christy’s son, Christopher, in Limerick . Chris gave me the layout of Red Cow Lane, O’Donovan Rossa and the story of my father looking like Elvis. Sadly, Chris Crosbie died in 2016.
I also visited Kilmainham Gaol and wept where they shot the Sixteen. I walked the streets Nana walked, played and lived.
In 2015, I walked the coast of Donegal and Antrim. I was flying home from Dublin . The night before I flew home to Wales , I called in to 'Cobblestones' that was once called 'Carolans'. The pub was opposite where Nana lived. I read and performed my poetry, the same place my father sang in 1957 and where my Nana and her family drank. I had many drinks bought for me that night. Irish, Brazilian, Germans, Americans and Spanish. I declined most of the drinks because I was flying home early in the morning.
At the end of the evening and after many goodbyes I walked outside Cobblestones, looked up to the summer clear sky and I knew my father and my Irish relatives were looking down.
Nana never spoke of what she witnessed, only Kevin Barry. I
believe that Nana was too traumatised. Dublin from 1916 to when Nana left 1921 was equivalent to Syria and Iraq . War torn and broken. I took up the pen and chose to write what Nana could not talk about.
287 pages, Hardcover
Published May 19, 2021
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