There are lots of significant pieces of news flying around the world over the last week. Some very serious and very political, some not so much. I’ve been trying my hand at writing with a bit more depth lately. I thought I’d tackle some of the more prominent and important things I’ve been reading. But my inner humourist continues to beat me over the head with a women’s weekly magazine* and simply won’t let me go there. Not yet anyway. 

In this week’s blog I’m writing about two pieces of news which have been circling Irish social media, both of which have affected me in vastly different ways over the last 40 years. 

1. The Leaving Cert Results. 

And, more importantly,

2. ABBA have released new music.

Oh god, there’s a tear in my eye just thinking about these two topics. Anytime I read the news saying ‘good luck to the kids getting their results today’, even 33 years later, I get a solid lump in my stomach and an immediate urge to go to the loo. I’m not the only one, am I?  Who doesn’t remember the soul-wrenching, nerve-wracking, god-awful DREAD we used to feel?

For those readers who don’t know what the Leaving Cert is, it’s the end of High School exams that every student in Ireland has to take as if their life depended on it. Without a good result in your Leaving Cert, at least back in the 80’s, we were told that your family will forever disown you, or ‘maybe it was rigged?’, or obviously the examiners were drunk the night before. And you were doomed to a life of nothingness until the end of time.

It didn’t matter how many candles my Nana lit, or how many prayers to St Jude or Padre Pio my mother said the night before, all those years spent studying Applied Maths Science would be in vain if I didn’t get a good result. (Applied Maths? Yes, that was because I hated Geography and I had to choose between Geography, Home Economics or Applied Maths. Why not Home Economics? Well, that’s another story for another time, involving mince pies that were made with the meat my mam had bought for the shepherd’s pie dinner that same morning…long story).

As usual, I digress.

I sat the leaving cert in 1988, and of course on the very first day of the very first exam, the sun was splitting the stones. That was typical for every leaving cert. It was a guarantee that we’d have good weather the minute the exams started. We were so sure of it, in fact, that we didn’t even bother with putting the Child of Prague statue out in June or July.

I’d been studying with my dear cousin Mark Cullen, (https://orladoherty.com/hakuna-matata-the-golden-age/) who I wrote about in my last blog, and we literally crammed every ounce of brain matter into the last minutes of the final hours before each exam, while turning into lobsters out in the back garden as the sun beat down on us and our copybooks. The pure angst and vomit-inducing emotions we felt on the first morning, trickled into the first afternoon, until every day of the exams became one giant blur of pain and wishing it to be over. Just writing about it this morning has me breaking into a sweat (or maybe its another hot flush). Either way, I can’t go on. I’ll have a nightmare about it tonight, I’m sure. I need a glass of water.

Okay, I’ve caught my breath. In a previous post about Coming Out in the 90’s, (https://orladoherty.com/coming-out-ille-gay-ly-1992/) I explain how I fell in love with ABBA in 1974, the year they won the Eurovision Song Contest. Granted I was only three, but I am confident that is the moment that shaped my life as a die-hard fan.

In those days, my dad loved Buddy Holly and the Beatles. My mam loved all things Country. Not Irish country, but Johnny Cash and Jim Reeves country. They’d never heard of ABBA. Nobody had. The Eurovision Song Contest was a highlight in our household. Didn’t Dana win it a few years before with “All Kinds of Everything”? And then Johnny Logan a few years later with “What’s another year?”. Any family that didn’t watch the Euros back then, was not a family to associate with. Sure there’d be nothing to talk about!

At age 3, I was barely out of nappies so I grapple with the thought that this could be my first memory, or I simply want it to be, based on the story I was told a few years later. I like to imagine that I sat in front of our 22-inch brand new colour TV, on my Aunty Hannah’s knee, watching my dad getting frustrated with the cats’ ears as he manoeuvred them to get good reception.

This particular night in April 1974 would be a rite of passage for me. My first indoctrination into my life-long obsession. Sweden had entered ABBA into the contest, and as they adorned the stage in their fabulous glitzy costumes, my bright baby eyes were fixated on the tiny screen. We all knew they’d win. The minute the music began, I could feel my chubby little leg twitch. (This twitch never went away actually. Instead, it’s been known to make its way down into both my feet, and quite often set off involuntary sudden movements, as if a nerve had been hit in my groin or hip, putting anyone watching into a bit of shock upon having to witness it. I fancy myself as a good dancer. Most disagree. I don’t care.)

So that was it. At almost 3 years of age, I was hooked. This was the best day of my short life! Pivotal in my personal development. I picture my Aunty Hannah – she would have been about 27, and she was the cool aunt. She was single, and loved to dance and be courted by the lads. She wore modern clothes and she gave us sweets when she babysat us.

I gazed at the tv screen as she bounced me up and down, my left leg twitching, my blue eyes bursting through their sockets, my toothless smile beaming through my pudgy face, my mouth dribbling spit and saliva, one arm outstretched with my extended fingers and hand reaching for the blond woman on the screen.

Some things never change.

Now, some 47 years later, that same pudgy face (albeit this time WITH teeth), can still be seen dribbling and bubbling with laughter when I hear that first piano thrill of Dancing Queen. With an outstretched arm and familiar twitch in my leg, it’s not unusual for me to have an ABBA attack, whether it be out at a bar, or a café, or a restaurant, or even a shopping mall.  Passers-by don’t even flinch anymore, when I launch myself uncontrollably onto the nearest bar or table or couch or high-top counter. There are countless videos of me in the standard Orla Pose position which is one hand in the air waving from side to side, switch to the other hand, followed by me playing the air-piano during the instrumental bits. I’ve had the same moves for 47 years.

I suppose you could say it’s my theme tune. What’s your theme tune? I’d love to know if you have a song that causes a natural reflex for you, that sends shivers down your spine, or brings you right back to your youth. Does it trigger a memory, a person, or a specific scene in your life? Tell me what they are! I’d love to know.

Needless to say, when ABBA released their new music a few days ago, I sat down to watch the video of I Still Have Faith in You. This new video had clips of years gone by, concerts, recording studios, and tour videos. A wave of emotion flushed over me and I was literally sniffling in the kitchen. There were some teenagers sitting near me at the time, who were fascinated (or maybe a little disturbed).

“Just you wait!” I snorted at them. “When BTS are in their 50’s, you’ll be doing the same. Your K-Pop is MY ABBA”. I’m not sure they fully understood.

It’s a beautiful thing, how music brings us to places we can’t get to, just by using our imagination. A song, a certain excerpt or a favourite verse, can transport us back in time. What is it about nostalgia that feels so damn good? ABBA produced incredible music in their short time together. They are eternal. And their music and songs are ageless.

It goes without saying that I pre-ordered the new album on vinyl, bought the black and gold ABBA shoes, the long-sleeved t-shirt, and despite not being religious anymore, I will pray to the highest of ALL ABBA gods, that I will be granted tickets to the concert next May. 

ABBA is my joy. One thing that’s NOT my joy is a memory of the Leaving Cert! I feel so much for today’s students, with all the pressure placed on them to study subjects they’ll probably never use. My advice is to simply do the best you can with what you have, without losing sleep over it. Follow your heart, your dreams, your passion and you’ll end up doing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing in this world. Most importantly, do what YOU want. Don’t give in to the expectations of parents or family. You DO YOU. YOU do what YOU love. Don’t get pigeon-holed into the rat race of general social norms, and don’t pretend to be something or someone you’re not.

I got an F in Applied Maths Science in the Leaving Cert, but an A in Music and English.  C’s in Irish, French, Biology and Business Studies. Do I wish I’d done better at Applied Maths? Certainly not! I wish I hadn’t spent so much damn time studying it or losing sleep over the fact that I simply couldn’t bloody-well understand the point of it!

Now. Do me a favour. Turn on your favourite music source and play the ABBA Gold album from 1992. Listen to every single one of those fantastic songs. I challenge you to find me another band that can match ABBA for quantity and consistency of good music and never-ending hits that has lasted almost fifty years!  Have a great Monday and thank you for reading!

*(yes I stole that from the late great Victoria Woods RIP)