PROCESSION On the night before the annual procession we ironed our pale blue Child of Mary cloaks and carefully folded the delicate lacey veils, placing them in a near parcel. Next morning we awoke excited and looked forward to taking part in the annual Corpus Christi procession. Wearing our Child of Mary medals we attended last mass at St. Mary's Church in Carrick. On our bicycles, with parcels on the carrier, we pedalled over the pot holed roads praying that the tyres would survive the rough stones. On the footpaths people gathered and waited to be placed in lines while we donned cloaks and veils, male helpers wearing right hand arm bands arranged us in bunches behind a row of priests who were dressed in long cloaks covered in heavy embroidery that glistened in the sun. Four pall bearers carried a cloth covered in braid ringlets, attached to four long poles held high over the priest, sheltering the golden monstrance from rain. If showers came down, large umbrellas were carried by the tallest men and the choir sang hymns that got us marching in slow motion down the main street as we prayed out loud, our veils blowing in the breeze. Feeling part of this religious celebration we admired altars with large vases full of lavender lilac, red peony roses and pale pink thorny stemmed roses. Honeycombs of lupins in purple and yellow shades filled shop windows, placed in vases around Infant of Prague statues and Our Lady wore a blue veil, other pictures of St. Joseph and the pierced heart of the Sacred Heart filled newly painted shiny doorways. Saying our prayers with enthusiasm, we circled the town before arriving back at the Church. We bought ice-cream in wafers and struggled back to reality facing the journey back to the farm, where many jobs were waiting to be completed. -- Mary Guckian.