The Whistling Kettle

The Whistling Kettle ©

By Michael Casey

The kettle is more than a kettle it’s a symbol, I’ll just put the kettle on, or come in for a cuppa means something, it represents family and friendship. The sound of a whistling kettle represents so much more than the actual sound itself it’s like a heartbeat to a home, as is the ticking of the old grandfather clock. Simple things do make a difference.

Back in Ireland at my father’s place they had a huge fireplace, so big you could sit inside it beside the fire itself, it must have been 10 feet wide. Hanging from the crane hung a huge black kettle, twice as big as the biggest one most people see in their lifetimes. Or when the kettle wasn’t hanging there a huge pot with something cooking in it.

This is my memory from 40 years ago. Dad was one of 10 children, and his brother Dan had 10 children of his own, so you needed a huge big kettle. It all makes sense and it also reminds me of the Love that was there in Carker Scarthaglen where the Casey Clan all grew up. Dan’s wife died and so Willie his brother came back from Birmingham to help raise all the children.

A whistling kettle means everybody can stop for a cup of tea and maybe some biscuits or Madeira cake on a Sunday. Our own kettle was a huge thing holding a gallon of water, enough for all the tea and then enough left over to do the washing up afterwards. This was before electric kettles became the norm in the 80s. In fact in my parents’ house we never used an electric kettle.

While the kettle is boiling you can have that chat, and share a secret or two, and hunt other members of the family out of the kitchen while advice love and mentoring can be administered. The world’s problems can be solved at the kitchen table while the kettle whistles, and the dog howls in the background.

My sister had the worse class of her career and my mum just started to laugh at that kitchen table. You just have to treat it as a game was her advice. The head teacher even said it was the worse class in her 25 years of teaching. Needless to say my sister won. And a few years afterwards she got the highest compliment of her teacher career. She was down the hospital, dad had had a heart attack or something. Out of the darkness at 3am in the morning a 13 year old appeared. I know you, you were my teacher, you were the best teacher I ever had, and then she disappeared.

The tea has been had and all the biscuits are eaten, so it’s time to go, your mum has her back to you, you say goodbye, she’s putting the kettle on the stove, that’s the last time you see her alive. The kettle won’t whistle any more, not for her anyway, but the love and laughter remains.