In the late 1940s and early 50s when summer days seemed warmer and longer, Leo and Tess would gather their children and head to Bray.

Tess would rise early on the Sunday morning to make sandwiches, with fresh bread purchased from Kiely’s, loaves or turnovers, just before they closed on Saturday night. Leo would have taken his Primus stove out and given it a good checking, making sure that there was enough paraffin and everything worked perfectly.

After the family had attended Mass their maternal grandmother Katie would arrive and at about ten-thirty they would head for Westland Row station. While Leo was purchasing a family day return ticket the children would rush up the stairs and wait near the gate for the grown-ups to arrive.

When the ticket had been clipped the children scampered onto the platform, followed by their parents. One red machine they found great amusement in was a nameplate maker, where if a penny was inserted, your name and address could be programmed onto a tin foil strip. Kathleen being the eldest seemed to know how to use it best of all.

The shrill shriek of the approaching train whistle and the thundering sound as it crossed the Loop Line Bridge informed them of the imminent arrival of the eleven o’clock ‘Sea Breeze’ to Bray, stopping at all stations along the way.

Coaches then were divided into single compartments and the rush to find an empty one was frantic. Most of Leo’s children had graduated from many three-penny rushes and that benefit soon became apparent.

With everyone safely boarded, the guard would go along the coaches slamming the doors, making sure that all was secure. Waving a green flag he would blow his whistle and with a huff and puff the mighty steam engine chuffed out from the platform.

With the train in motion, sometimes their grandmother would offer three pence to whoever could name all of the stations to Bray. Leo’s son being a clever dick knew them all by heart, which annoyed his sisters no end.

Passing Sydney Parade and heading for Merrion Gates, the incoming tide added the smell of ozone to the air, which delighted them all, as they gazed at early sunbathers stretched the full length of the strand. Leo and Tess’s children looked forward to the long tunnel after Dalkey station before the train exited the darkness, to display the magnificent panoramic sweep of Killiney Bay, with the Big and Small Sugar Loafs, majestic in the distance.

With no lights on in the compartment, their granny would touch someone on the leg lightly, forcing a frightening scream from the chosen one. When the train emerged from the tunnel she would be found sitting as innocent as an angel in her seat, sucking contentedly on a hard-boiled sweet, with a hint of mischief in her warm blue eyes.

From the Station Hotel all along the grass lawn running parallel to the esplanade, were amusements of all kinds, loaded with children whose parents could afford to pay for the short duration of the ride. Leo and Tess’s children envied those lucky ones but soon got over the disappointment.

The family always headed for their parents’ favourite spot, which was on the other side of the railway tracks, at the bottom of the entrance to the climb for the summit. It was a square grass plot overlooking the swimming pool in Naylor’s Cove.

With the food unloaded from the bags, his children would go down the hill to fill the teapot with water from the pump outside the wall of the Crofton Hotel.

No matter how careful the sisters were, their brother always managed to accidentally splash them with water as he rinsed the teapot. Sometimes being the only boy among the girls Kathleen, Marie, Frances, Rose and Betty was a blessing, there was always so much to tease them about.

With the teapot full and heating nicely on the Primus, if Leo had worked overtime that week he would send his son down to the chipper for four singles. At the seaside, chip butties taste so much nicer with lashings of salt and vinegar, a feast more than fit for a king.

After refreshments the girls would venture to climb the head, but their brother fancied the amusements more. Not that he had any money to spend but he usually picked up a penny or two from machines, where people would walk away, not realizing that they had won a few coppers.

While the days seemed sunnier and longer, they still ended far too soon and around half past six everything was packed ready for the return journey home. At the railway station hundreds of other parents had the same idea and the platform throbbed with tired but happy city children, who had all enjoyed the Sea Breeze Special to Bray. For the luckier ones among them, this would be a joyous event to be repeated many Sundays each summer during their formative years.