We haven't been able to take payment
You must update your payment details via My Account or by clicking update payment details to keep your subscription.
Act now to keep your subscription
We've tried to contact you several times as we haven't been able to take payment. You must update your payment details via My Account or by clicking update payment details to keep your subscription.
Your subscription is due to terminate
We've tried to contact you several times as we haven't been able to take payment. You must update your payment details via My Account, otherwise your subscription will terminate.

Time and place: Bronagh Gallagher

The 38-year-old actress and singer remembers partying – and getting her big break – in early 1990s Dublin. If the walls could only talk

I lived at No 28 Kenilworth Road in Dublin 6 for about eight years from when I was 18. It was a basement flat in an old Victorian house near Rathmines. I had been looking for somewhere to live in Dublin, as I had just moved from Derry. A friend, Aideen O’Donnell, said she had this place and offered me a room.

I didn’t even bother going to see it. I just jumped at the chance of being able to hang out with Aideen all the time, so I took the room.

The flat had a living room, a kitchen and about four other rooms that were used as bedrooms. It had a long garden out the back. It was mostly just Aideen and I who lived there, but a few others passed through. The singer Phil Callery, from the Voice Squad, lived with us for a while.

Although I was trying to make a career for myself, the years at No 28 were really all about music and making friends. It was a great party house — if the walls could only talk.

Phil and Aideen knew lots of awesome musicians who were always hanging out. People like Glen Hansard and Mundy used to show up and play a lot. I remember Paddy Casey being around too. He was only a baby and too shy to sing — or even talk. I remember Glen trying to encourage him to sing for ages.

Advertisement

When I first came to Dublin, I had been doing my A-levels up in Derry and I had notions of going on to study art. Back then, the reality of becoming an actress seemed distant. I had done some amateur stuff in Derry, and I tried to get into a couple of drama schools, but none of them would take me. I really couldn’t act in the traditional sense of the word — I couldn’t deliver a Shakespeare text. All I could be was myself.

I got a few breaks, though. I used to do a bit of babysitting in Derry for a film-maker called Margo Harkin, who directed Hush-a-Bye Baby. Margo helped get me a few parts, including one in Dear Sarah, a television film about the Guildford Four.

I did a couple of pieces with the director Michael Winterbottom when he was a student. I had been accepted by the National Youth Theatre when I was offered one of them. I was all ready to say, “No thanks, Mr Winterbottom, I am going to do this”, but thankfully someone talked me out of it and I did the film.

When I heard they were casting The Commitments, I desperately wanted to be in it, but they refused to see me because I was from Derry. As far as I was concerned, it was just about having a Dublin accent and I reckoned I could do that easily.

When Alan Parker couldn’t find what he was looking for in Dublin, he started looking up north, so I went for it. After about five auditions, I got the part of Bernie.

Advertisement

After that, things got very, very busy. I was always travelling, but when I came back it was great to spend time in the flat and see all my mates. In Dublin, I would basically hang out having coffee in Rathmines or going to gigs at Whelan’s.

Going to gigs was really my thing. Even though I love the theatre and love performing in it, I was always much more interested in seeing live music.

In the flat, Aideen and I would have musically themed parties. Everyone would come back after the pub and we might have a party where only Beatles records were played, or only Led Zeppelin, or only Tom Waits. I wouldn’t let anyone else touch the record decks.

We were really into the Meters at the time and had a couple of Meters parties, where we all dressed up in ridiculous 1970s costumes and danced all night. And I would like to apologise to the neighbours about that. They must have had to put up with a lot.

We also discovered lot of music films that we would watch over and over again, like The Last Waltz.

Advertisement

No 28 was a sort of a social headquarters and my time there was when I realised how important my friends were to me. It wasn’t until afterwards that I recognised how happy I had been living there.

In Dublin back then, it seemed like a time when people felt anything was possible. There was no fear and a real sense of freedom. Eventually, however, there was also a sense that you had to move on, which I did when I moved to London.

These days, I often pass by No 28 and I always make a point of saying hello to it.

Bronagh Gallagher will perform with the Stars from the Commitments at the O2 Dublin on March 19