The Nellie Flynn Collection

These are a collection of photographs sent to me by Maureen Derbyshire which originally belonged to her mother, Nellie Flynn. Nellie spent her younger years living in Portally and was the daughter of Stasia Flynn. Stasia was a sister of Annie, Deddie, Kitty, and Paddy “Billy” Power, a well-known local family.

In the late 1940s, Nellie moved to St. Helens to undertake her nursing training. St. Helens is a town in north-west England, now in the county of Merseyside, though it was historically part of Lancashire until 1974. Maureen herself continues to live there to this day.

Nellie later married Gerry Hudson and raised her own family. Despite settling in England, they regularly returned to Portally for summer holidays. Maureen fondly remembers long summer days spent at Portally Cove, visits with her aunts and uncle, and afternoons wandering around Dunmore.

Sadly, Nellie Hudson (née Flynn) passed away recently at the age of 93. While going through her belongings, Maureen came across these photographs and postcards relating to Dunmore, which she felt others would enjoy seeing. I have since colourised these images, and they can be viewed below.

My thanks to Maureen for so kindly making them available.

The original version of this photograph once hung in No. 1 Emerald Terrace, the home of Paddy and Annie “Billy” Power, where it remained for many years as a quiet part of everyday life. Like so many old images, it carries layers of personal and local history that are easy to overlook at first glance.

I spent a long time studying the name above the shop door, trying to tease out what it was, the original being faded and hard to see. The closest I could come was W. Murphy, though this may not be entirely correct. That small uncertainty only adds to the photograph’s charm, reminding us that the past does not always reveal itself fully, and that some details remain just beyond our grasp.

What endures is the sense of place it conveys – a familiar streetscape, once known and lived in, now preserved in a single moment in time.

This is another colourised version of a photograph that was found in the same frame as the image above. It only came to light when the back of the frame was removed for cleaning, revealing a small and unexpected discovery.

In total, there were three photographs, two hidden away, one behind the other, all carefully held within the same frame like a modest time capsule. Each image had been quietly preserved, unseen for decades, sharing the same physical space and history.

I would estimate that this particular photograph dates from the early 1900s. Brought back to life through colourisation, it offers a rare glimpse into an earlier moment, one that had been patiently waiting in the dark to be seen again.

This is the third photograph discovered inside Paddy Billy’s frame, and like the others, it appears to date from around 1900. It captures a familiar stretch of the village at a much earlier moment in its story, full of small details that reward a closer look.

On the left stands the Ocean Hotel, its oval upstairs windows particularly striking — a feature I don’t recall seeing in later years. The butcher’s shop nearby appears to have been a busy place even then, suggesting that this part of the village was already a hub of daily life at the turn of the century.

In the foreground, the ornate streetlight positioned in front of the Coastguard Cottages was most likely oil-powered, carefully lit by hand each evening. And in the Power family’s garden, the large tree was really branching out, almost touching the far side of the road. No buses or fish lorries travelled the Dock Road in those times to halt its growth.

This photograph shows the Fisherman’s Hall and the well-known tree standing across the road from it. This particular version comes from a postcard dating to around 1950, capturing a moment of everyday village life in quiet detail.

One of the men in the photograph bears a resemblance to Canon Jameson, though I wouldn’t swear to it. Small clues in the scene suggest that the photograph was taken during the summer months: a pair of swimming shorts and two towels are draped over the Hall’s wall, likely left there to dry after a swim in Stoney Cove. In those days, people only ventured into the sea in warm weather, having far too much sense to swim in winter for fear of catching a cold and ending up confined to bed for a month. Nowadays, of course, that caution has long since disappeared, with people swimming all year round.

There is also at least one fine car in the village at the time. Its owner was probably inside the Bay Café, buying bananas, which had only just become available again following the Emergency years of the 1940s. With a car like that, I’d say they could afford to buy a whole bunch.

Many love stories began, and some ended, in the hall during the dances that were held there regularly. It was also used to screen films on the big screen. The first film I ever saw on anything other than television was The Young Ones, starring Cliff Richard. It made it to Dunmore around 1966. My two sisters brought me, having been directed to do so by my mother. I thought the film was great, and it only stopped a few times when the projector cut out or when the reel had to be changed. I remember being impressed by Cliff’s singing.

This photograph of the Harbour was originally a postcard, likely dating from the late 1950s. I don’t recall ever seeing this exact image before, which makes its rediscovery all the more appealing. Like many postcards of the period, it was carefully composed to show the harbour at its best, calm and inviting, with the houses on the cliff settled comfortably above it.

It was certainly taken on a finer day than any we’ve had so far in 2026. The light has that unmistakable softness of a good summer’s day, the sort that draws people outdoors and makes the harbour feel like the centre of everything.

Looking at it now, Cliff Richard again inevitably comes to mind, singing Summer Holiday — a song I’ve always associated with Dunmore. Whether or not it was playing anywhere near the harbour at the time, it feels perfectly at home here, echoing the carefree atmosphere of summers past and the enduring pull of the place itself.

This photograph was at one time a postcard, offering a more modern view of Dunmore East’s harbour, most likely dating from the 1990s. At its heart sits the St Patrick, occupying the prime position in the middle of the dock, steady and ready should she be called upon.

I found that by staring at the photograph for half an hour, the scene began to come alive, I could almost hear the sharp calls of the kittiwakes overhead, the soft movement of water against hulls, and that unmistakable smell of salt and sea air that belongs only to Dunmore.

This is another photograph dating from the 1950's, that strongly suggests summertime — a relaxed group of friends enjoying a day outdoors in Portally, caught in an unguarded and familiar moment. The easy body language and closeness between them hint at long friendships and shared routines.

The woman on the far left is possibly Alice Whittle, with her sister Cissy standing beside her. Next to them is Nellie Hudson (née Flynn), and beside her is almost certainly Tessie Fitzgerald. Absolute certainty is hard to come by with photographs of this age. The six-year-old girl is Maureen herself — or perhaps her sister, who bore a striking resemblance to her at that age.

Maureen recalled how grateful she and her mother always were to Cissy and her son Pat, who were unfailingly supportive and kind during a difficult period for her aunt, Mary Flynn. Mary had retired from England to live with Annie and Paddy Billy at their home on Emerald Terrace in the late 1980s, and that kindness was never forgotten.

Photographs like this speak quietly of friendship, family, and the everyday generosity that often goes unrecorded, yet leaves the deepest mark.

This picture is of Sam Mitchell and Annie “Billy” Power enjoying an afternoon together, as they often did, possibly on the Shanoon. Theirs was a great love story, but sadly their love was doomed.

Maureen Derbyshire recalls: “I always felt so sad about the account of her doomed love for Sam. The version I was told described the usual Catholic/Protestant problems of the time, as perceived by the local priest. He then went on to denounce Annie and her relationship with Sam from the altar at Sunday morning Mass. Their ‘courting’ had been spied on by an unknown busybody on the cliffs and then reported to the higher powers. She was a lovely, loving lady and never recovered from the experience. On our family holidays to Dunmore/Portally, we always loved spending time with them. I wish I could say that these sorts of religious intolerance problems had improved over the years, but sadly not.”

Sam Mitchell was a brother of Violet O’Toole and also had a brother named Tom. In his younger years, he was very athletic and excelled at rowing, winning many races at the Dunmore East regattas during the 1930s and 1940s.

David Carroll recalls: “I remember him well from my very early childhood, as he had a unique style of rowing a punt. Himself and Paddy “Matty” Power used to row out of the Dock every autumn in a punt with a drift net for herrings in the Bay. One sat in the bow and the other man stood aft, looking ahead as he pulled. It was a great sight — two old men rowing out of the Dock as the dark set in, still going out to fish. I always wanted to row a punt like them, but I was under orders from my mother not to stand up — always sit in a boat! A few boxes would be a good night’s fishing, and it was always said that herrings caught in the bay tasted very good.”

It’s sad to think that, were it not for the priest at the time, and whoever informed him about Annie and Sam’s relationship, their lives could have been so much happier. I suppose at least they had their happy afternoons on the cliffs in Dunmore all those years ago.

This photograph features Cissie Fitzgerald (née Whittle) on the far right, standing next to Maureen’s father, Gerry Hudson, with Nellie Flynn, as she was then, beside him. The lady on the far left is Tessie Fitzgerald. 

It looks very much as though they had been for a dip at Portally Cove and are drying out along the cliffs — cliffs that have since eroded and changed the shape of the place. The photograph likely dates from around 1956, capturing Portally at a time when both the landscape and daily rhythms were different to what we know today.

Maureen recalls that fragrant honeysuckle once grew there in abundance, its scent carried on the air on warm days. She still has a cutting of it growing in her own garden. Its removal from Portally may even have played a part in the erosion that followed. She also remembers catching eels as they swam down the stream nearby, a small childhood adventure tied closely to the place.

In front of where the group is sitting, the Fancy Power brothers had their lobster and crab pots laid out. On certain days, mackerel would swim right up to the beach, almost announcing their presence, as if waiting to be caught.

It was a time when the sea, the land, and everyday life were deeply intertwined — and looking at this photograph now, it’s hard not to feel that they really were glorious times indeed.

This photograph shows Annie and Deddie “Billy” Power and was most likely taken by Sam Mitchell during a quiet afternoon on the cliffs. There is an ease to the image that suggests familiarity between subject and photographer, a moment shared rather than staged.

Deddie led a particularly interesting life. She worked as a housekeeper and childminder for Professor John Oulton Wisdom of Wexford, travelling with him and his children to America and Canada on several occasions while accompanying them on lecture tours. These journeys would have been remarkable experiences at the time, opening up a much wider world beyond home.

Deddie later lived with the professor’s daughter, remaining there until her death at the age of 96. Throughout her life, she had a keen interest in photography and took many photographs using her own camera. On this particular occasion, she entrusted the camera to Sam, allowing her to step into the frame herself.

Images like this carry more than faces and landscapes; they hold traces of lives well lived, friendships formed, and moments quietly shared — preserved now in a single afternoon on the cliffs.

During the 1940s, when fishing was poor and work was uncertain, fishermen sometimes supplemented their income by taking on modelling work. This photograph shows one such group, pictured during an assignment for Scottish Fishergirl Weekly. The idea was a simple one: it was hoped that, when Scottish girls saw what fine men there were in the Irish fishing industry, they might be tempted to come over to gut fish, just as they had done in the 1920s. Sure enough, after the photograph was published, the girls arrived in their droves.

On the left of the image is Paddy Flynn from Portally, who was Maureen Derbyshire’s uncle on her mother’s side. Sadly, Paddy died of a heart attack at just 21 years of age, a stark reminder of how fragile life can be.

In the middle stands one of Dunmore East’s finest characters, John “Bulligan” Power, well remembered locally. On the right is Marty Scallon from Kilmore Quay, Co. Wexford.

What makes this photograph so engaging is the mix of purpose and personality it captures — working fishermen briefly stepping into a different role, while still carrying the unmistakable presence of men shaped by the sea. It is a small but telling glimpse into how resourceful coastal communities adapted during harder times.

The man in the middle of this photo is Paddy Billy Power. The man on the left is possibly John Roche, and the man on the right could be John “Rocky” Power. One of the fish is called Ray, but I’m not sure about the others; they may be halibut.

Years ago, it was commonplace to see men out and about carrying fish with them; it was a kind of badge of manhood. I remember my father, Ernie, never leaving the quay without at least three herrings attached to his belt with a piece of wire threaded through the fishes’ eyes. I tried it myself once, but my trousers got destroyed and I wasn’t allowed into Bill’s. I suppose all fashions have their time.

In this photo we see, on the left at the back, Tessie Kelly, nee Fitzgerald, I think, and beside her one of the Hudson girls. At the front are Cissy Fitzgerald, nee Whittle, Nellie Hudson, nee Flynn, another Hudson girl, and Gerry Hudson.

Although a visitor to the area, Gerry wasted no time picking up on the local, manly trend of carrying fish around with him. These were mackerel, which he picked straight out of the water with his hands; the shoals at the time were so bountiful that this was all one had to do. Portally was like the Garden of Eden back in the 50’s.

This photograph was taken outside Maureen Derbyshire’s grandmother Stasia’s cottage in Portally in 1967. It features Nellie Hudson, nee Flynn, and her family, who had travelled over from England for their summer holidays. I’m not sure whether the Hudsons lived in a thatched cottage in St Helens, but they certainly seemed right at home here, as if they already knew the rhythms and ways of rural life.

1967 was known worldwide as the "Summer of Love" and was a great year for music. In America, the first major rock festival took place in Monterey in June; in San Francisco, people wore flowers in their hair; and in Dunmore, men walked around with fish hanging from their belts. If the Hudson girls had turned on the radio in Portally on a Thursday night, they would have heard Larry Gogan playing the Irish pop charts. Songs such as A Whiter Shade of Pale, Waterloo Sunset, and Silence Is Golden sat side by side with The Boston Burglar, Old Maid in the Garret, and The Enniskillen Dragoons. Irish people certainly had a broad and eclectic taste in music back then.

It was also during the Hudsons’ visit to Dunmore that the Kennedy visit to Woodstown took place. Maureen remembers that Mrs Kennedy’s protection detail travelled in huge limousines, one of which nearly mowed her down outside her grandmother’s house on the road leading to Portally Cove.

Maureen recalls:

“After the speeding car incident, we went down to the cove for a swim and saw Jackie dive elegantly from the high rocks. When we were leaving the cove, they happened to be leaving too, and we seemed to accompany her and her children back up the lane. Caroline had dropped her cardigan on the walk back from the cove, so I ran after them to return it.

I also remember the Secret Service men with binoculars stationed on the Portally cliffs. And I remember Mrs Kennedy stopping to chat with Mick Dee from Portally — they even shook hands. Strange the things you remember.”

But it wasn't only Secret Service agents in fast cars she had to worry about, she also remembers her mother’s friend, Cissie Whittle, regaling her siblings and her with vivid ghost stories and tales of headless horses encountered on dark nights in the lanes around Portally. Luckily their days were so busy that these strange tales didn't keep them awake at night.

Even if the "Summer of Love" didn’t make quite the same cultural impact in Portally as it did elsewhere in the world, the Hudsons’ holiday of 1967 was certainly one for them to remember.

To be continued...