Julie Helen: Bonnie Tyler album unlocks precious holiday memories
"We used to have the song on repeat, trying to hold the notes just like she did."
I’m sitting listening to , the 1989 compilation album by Bonnie Tyler and Meatloaf. I was only four when it was released.
Bonnie Tyler died last week at 75. When I saw the news, I was immediately transported back to a family holiday in the late 90s, possibly 1999. We would have been 14, 10, 9 and 8 years old. We went to Brittany in France on the ferry, meaning we had our car with us. At that time, our albums were on cassettes, or maybe it was just about CDs, because we were definitely able to repeat a song easily enough. We played the whole album of over and over.
As I’m listening, all the songs are familiar and huge hits like Total Eclipse of the Heart and You Took the Words Right out of my Mouth were favourites and would have us clapping. The Speed of Night sends shivers down my spine. It has an epic beat and tempo, and there are a few bars at the end where Bonnie sings incredibly high notes in one breath. We used to have the song on repeat, trying to hold the notes just like she did. This was long before the boys’ voices broke, and we did pretty decent jobs. As I listen to it now, easily found on my smartphone with a few clicks, I can feel those moments. I can feel the beat moving through the car, the laughing, the chatter and the fun we had, all unlocked by those songs.
We had such fun on that holiday. We had pain au chocolat for breakfast, and we would either have lunch or dinner in a restaurant. One particular day, we went to a really nice restaurant for lunch. I still know I had salmon with rice and a butter sauce. I can still taste it. It is one of the most scrumptious meals I have ever had.
At the same meal, Diarmuid at ten, asked for ketchup for his chips, and the woman of the house said she was very sorry, but she didn’t have any. At that age, there was no compromise in Diarmuid, and his Down Syndrome gave him an extra talent at staging a protest. He sat cross- armed and absolutely refused to eat his chips without ketchup. He wasn’t making noise, but it was obvious we were trying to coax him to eat. After about half an hour, the woman of the house came back with ketchup wrapped strangely in tissues. We were in quite a remote piece of countryside, but she had gone home to get the coveted ketchup when she had realised how upset Diarmuid was.
On our holidays, we always found something to collect or a goal to work towards. On that occasion, there were coin machines that held knick-knacks of necklaces with skulls on them for the lads and wooden beaded bracelets for me. Every time we saw one, we spent our pocket money trying to collect all the variations, and we were very committed to the cause.
As I get older, I sometimes think my memories disappear and that we only end up with a small string throughout our timeline. Now I understand that particularly precious pockets of experience are stored somewhere special, unlocked with a specific key, and Bonnie Tyler was a special key for O’Leary’s way back in France that time.
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