A tiny estate can hold an entire world. We open up about growing up in the courts—where neighbours watched your back, aunties’ coins bought sovereigns and sweets, and freedom stretched from the green to the last bus home. It’s a fast, funny, and raw tour through the memories that made us: first babysitting gigs at fourteen, silver van shop runs, drama clubs and John Player Toppers, idol crushes and DIY auditions in someone’s kitchen, and the prank that sent a curry to the wrong door and us straight into parental justice.

Our story turns toward summer as we relive Rush: a shack sold to our imaginations as a mansion, surfboards without life vests, caravans, amusements and a mad run for the last bus. We talk about getting found out—how the estate’s quiet intelligence always knew—through handcuff mishaps, eyebrow slits, and a neighbour’s saw that saved the day. The laughs keep coming with ironing-hair disasters, sleepover toothpaste wars, and the snack canon of our youth: Chester slices, meanies, Monster Munch the way it used to be.

Underneath the craic sits the backbone of community. From coddle Saturdays and open nannies’ doors to a fundraiser that raised €25,000 in ten days, we trace how a place with little money built rich lives. We ask what’s been lost to screens and what’s worth protecting: the certainty you’d find a pal between your house and your nanny’s, street parties that ran long, and a freedom held safely by many hands. If you’ve ever missed the sound of your name carried across a court, this conversation brings you home.

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