How agreeable are you?
It probably depends on the day in question and who you ask, but I think I’m usually agreeable once I have access to sufficient amounts of fresh air. I come out of the sea refreshed and less cranky than I might have been earlier in the day. And when I get off the bike, I’m open to chats about pretty much anything, which might include discussion or even argument about some issue or other. So in the open air, I’m far more agreeable than I would be in an enclosed, clammy space.
What’s your middle name and what do you think of it?
My middle name is Anne. I don’t give it too much thought. I was christened Caroline Anne, although I found out later in life that my folks had considered the name Constance. My dad was Con, and I’d love to have been another Connie in the family. Sometimes, people I knew at school might call me Caroline, although at home it was only ever used as a joke or to reprimand me about something. And I was never Carrie-Anne, despite The Hollies’ song of the same name.
Where is your favourite place in Ireland?
This was always going to be somewhere in Donegal. My mum grew up in The Rosses, and we would spend weeks every summer cycling between the townland of Meenbanad and Cruit Island, but then in 1994 I discovered Glencolumcille in southwest Donegal, and this has without doubt become my absolute favourite. I initially landed there to attend Oideas Gael, an Irish college for adults. I adored it from the get-go, and 32 years later, I still head up every summer. It’s a stunning place with glorious beaches and a lot of really sound heads to hang out with as Gaeilge.. What’s not to love?
Describe yourself in three words
Independent. Ferociously so, and probably argumentatively so as a younger woman. I suspect I’ve mellowed with age, but I still like to step out into the world on my own terms. Positive. I’m definitely a glass-half-full person, or a glass almost full. I reckon I was born that way under either a lucky or a very happy star, for which I’ll be eternally grateful. And finally, I would describe myself as technically inept, which I view as one word. I’m definitely a bit of a Luddite and can often make a total hames of switching machines on or off. I have issues opening jars and bottles sometimes, too, so maybe I lack spatial awareness or, quelle horreur, am just a bit clumsy.
When did you last get angry?
Most days when I read or listen to the news, I find myself enraged. How do certain world leaders get to decide which of us should live or die? And if they allow people to live, how can anyone in their right mind stand over the appalling conditions in which a huge portion of the world’s population is now just about existing? That’s an everyday anger, and there’s no sign of it diminishing in any way.
What have you lost that you would like to have back?
Definitely energy and possibly youth, although I’m not sure I’d like to be a young person in today’s world. The gorgeous freedom of my younger days has pretty much died in a time where everything is witnessed or photographed either openly or without any awareness of same. My youth was before mobile phones, which have wiped out privacy. But I’d give anything to have my old energy levels back.
What is your strongest childhood memory?
Any time we drove anywhere, we’d end up picking up hitchhikers, either Irish or from any other part of the world. A lot of Scandinavian or German hikers seemed to carry big orange rucksacks, and I always loved the unfolding of stories that came from those journeys. Our mother had hiked and camped around Europe in the 1950s, and both my older sister Bríd and I automatically dived into the same way of travelling as we grew up. It was a gorgeous way to experience the world and definitely made us fearless as we grew older.
Where do you come in your family’s birth order, and has it defined you?
I have one other sibling, my sister Bríd. She was born in 1960, and I arrived in 1964. We were quite different as children, but very close as we were the only two. She was very clever and diligent, while I was a lot less focused on grades or future studies. Sometimes teachers would say it was a pity I wasn’t more like her, as she always got top marks in everything, but when I was doing my Leaving Cert, my folks allowed me to play a part in Fiddler on the Roof, which wasn’t supposed to happen in exam years. Their argument was that I wouldn’t be studying anyway, so I might as well do something I loved. We were on stage the week of our mock Leaving exams, and I was so relaxed about the whole thing that I got better grades in my mocks than the Leaving Cert itself. My parents recognised that in me, and I loved them for it. Maybe having only two children allowed them to see each of us as our own personality type, and so they encouraged us in everything we wanted to take a stab at.
What do you expect to happen when you die?
I believe the spirit goes on. It has to. Whatever about the body, I think the energy of the individual is so much more than the physical. I still absolutely feel the presence of people I’ve loved in my life, even though they’re gone. I also firmly believe that those who preceded us have our backs and guide us onwards.
When were you happiest?
I can think of many times of pure joy down through the years, but nothing stands out definitively as the happiest. I view happiness as an ongoing condition.
Which actor would play you in a biopic about your life?
Ha! That’s a curious one. I could spend hours trying to think of someone who might feasibly resemble me, but for someone to play you, they have to understand you and represent all the convoluted parts of the person they’re playing. I’ve worked with the wonderful Irish actress Hazel Doupe in the past, and I’d trust her entirely to have a go at it.
What is your biggest career/personal regret?
None. Things happen when they’re meant to or the way they’re meant to. I’m not in any way a planner. I’m just open to whatever happens to land in my lap, making that work and being happy with it.
Have you any psychological quirks?
For some reason, I prefer odd numbers to even. I love to take the odd-numbered seat in a theatre or cinema. I like the number 13. I also don’t like things to be too symmetrical; I much prefer things a bit off kilter, and I don’t like pictures hung in a straight line.
Carrie Crowley’s documentary, Sáile, is broadcast on TG4, Wednesday, April 29th, 9.30pm
In conversation with Tony Clayton-Lea
