By Peter Pringle
Legislation and justice aren't continuously one and a similar. On November 27, 1980, Peter Pringle waited in an Irish court docket to listen to the next phrases: "Peter Pringle, for the crime of capital homicide . . . the legislations prescribes just one penalty, and that penalty is death." the matter used to be that Peter didn't devote this crime. dealing with a sentence of loss of life via placing, Peter sought the interior energy and backbone to outlive. whilst his sentence was once replaced to 40 years with out remission he got down to turn out his innocence. Fifteen years later, he's ultimately a loose guy. this can be his tale.
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Extra info for About Time: Surviving Ireland's Death Row
The Post Office main sorting depot was in Amiens Street, which was on my route home from school. Instead of taking the bus I’d walk to the sorting depot, and when one of the post wagons, loaded with mail bags and drawn by two horses, trotted out from the depot heading across town I would ‘scut’ on the back of it and get a free ride across the city. Sometimes, someone would yell, ‘Scut behind! ’ and the driver sitting high in his box at the front would crack his long whip behind him to scare me off the back of his wagon.
The pawn shops were thriving businesses, and it was not unusual for the Sunday clothes to be pawned on Monday and redeemed again on Saturday for mass on Sunday. Bellmen, as they were called because their horse had a bell around the neck which rang as it moved, went around with their horse-drawn carts selling coal by the stone (14 lbs) or by the bucket. Very few people could afford to buy a bag of coal. Grocery shops sold loose tea by the ounce, and butter likewise. Beef dripping was sold and spread on bread instead of butter and was often referred to as ‘bread and dip’ when the dripping was heated on a pan.
They had two cows, a pony, pigs, hens, geese and ducks. There were fields and woods to roam, and a river at the bottom of the big field. Grandmother made homemade bread, cakes and butter. And in the evenings around the fireplace, it was so warm and snug. Listening to the stories and local news I got ever more drowsy. I would then be carried down to the room and into bed, to dreams wrapped in eiderdown quilt and not stirring until daylight. Sometimes I would lie in bed and listen to the chug, chug, chug of the barges as they passed along the canal about a mile away.