Ann Burton: A long life defined by her devotion to people of Cork

I WAS very lucky to spend a lot of time with my grandparents growing up.

I would spend time with them after school, accompany them on errands, and they would come with us on holidays every year.

And when we would go around Cork, no matter where we went, we would inevitably bump into someone my grandmother knew.

Five-year-old me knew that meant that I would have to wait through several seemingly hours-long conversations about how someone’s son was getting on ‘in the college’, or about how so-and-so’s mother’s hip replacement went before I could get stuck into my copy of The Beano. It really seemed like she knew half of Cork, and as I grew up I realised that’s because she basically did.

Anna Walsh was born in the Lough Parish in Cork in September, 1934. She was one of 10 children born to Michael Walsh and Anastacia Higgins, themselves originally from Millstream Row in Blarney and Gould Street in The Lough, respectively. In 1957, she married Robert ‘Bob’ Burton, and they would have six children: Ann, Robert. Stacey, Maura, Theresa, and Frances.

Ann’s life could be defined by her devotion to others. She was, of course, a devoted wife to Bob for over 50 years, a sister to nine, a mother to six, grandmother to 12 and even a great-grandmother to six. But it was her devotion to the people of Cork that stood to her throughout her life.

She was a volunteer with the Order of Malta alongside her husband Bob, being one of the first on the scene to respond to the Buttevant Rail Disaster in 1980. She was a longtime member of St Finbarr’s Athletics Club, serving on the committee as treasurer for many years. However, she was most known to the people of Cork for her time with CADA Performing Arts, working as a costume mistress for their annual Everyman Christmas panto for over 20 years.

There was always a hum in my grandparents’ house, always some activity. Sewing machines on the go, patterns being cut, knitting needles working away. In hindsight, it was such a wondrous environment to grow up in. As far as I knew, everyone’s grandmother’s house was full of colourful dresses and suits, being put together from fabric scraps and shiny buttons. And even though I went to see almost every panto I could’ve seen in her 20-plus years, working alongside her dear friend Pat Mahon, it was still hard to properly conceive of the impact she had on so many people.

Just going by the condolences posted online, and those offered in person, it seemed like several generations of Corkonians knew her from doing the panto. Years after she stepped away from it, you’d be bringing her to a doctor’s appointment, or out for a spot of lunch somewhere, and every time, even up until the day she died, she would be recognised as Mrs Burton from the Everyman.

These people would, on the surface, appear to have nothing in common with each other — but all of them, without fail, would have a certain glimmer in their eye as they regaled us with a story of their time working together, a deep fondness for the time they had spent in CADA, and what my grandmother had meant to them. And it didn’t matter if you were a famous radio presenter, the Lord Mayor, or whatever child needed their collar adjusted — she treated them all with the same grace, good humour, love, and care as the other.

Ann Burton peacefully passed away in the early hours of Sunday, February 11, surrounded by family in Marymount.

She is survived by her children Maura, Ann, Robert, Stacey, and Frances, her grand- and great-grandchildren, her family, and a truly incalculable number of friends.

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam. May she rest in peace.