It gets a giggle every time,” admits Joan Collins, of sharing her name with a former dynasty diva. (Indeed, when she spearheaded the bid that brought an international women’s conference to Killarney in 1986, The Sunday World reported that the actress would be in attendance.)
Though this Joan Collins – let’s call her the ‘original’ – sees the funny side of it. And at 87, the mother of nine and grandmother of 14, who has campaigned on behalf of women in agriculture throughout her life, is as feisty an interviewee as they come.
Despite offering to meet her at home, she arrives on her own four wheels at the Malton Hotel in Killarney, where she promptly insists on paying for lunch, despite our protests.
“I remember what it was like starting out in life,” she hushes, as she makes a beeline for the bar to grab the bill.
We consider a counter-surge, but think better of it. After all, it doesn’t take long to realise that Joan has never let anybody stand in her way.
Sense of Justice
Even as a child, she was aware of inequality between the sexes. Born on a 50-acre dairy farm in Killarney in 1926, she recalls the flash of indignation she felt when she first realised that the boys in the family were “treated better” than the girls.
“And what used to really make me mad was that we had to polish their shoes on a Saturday night,” she exclaims.
Perhaps that’s what drove her to become one of the few women of her generation to progress to third-level education, studying commerce and social science in UCD when college fees were £10 a year, dances were held in the “Aula Max” every Friday, and the Legion of Mary paid a personal visit to each student to ensure they didn’t go astray in the big smoke. Others were not so lucky. While working as a social worker at the Adelaide Hospital, Joan encountered many country people who had fallen on hard times in the capital, from unemployed farm labourers who came to Dublin seeking work (“You might get eight, nine or 10 of them in one room,” she recalls), to young housemaids who became pregnant after being taken advantage of by their employers.
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“They would be just dumped out the door,” she says.
However, her time in Dublin was cut short after she got shingles. After returning home to recuperate, she met and married her late husband Sean in 1954. With the marriage bar still in force, Joan turned her energies to the 150-acre farm, where she proved an astute manager while rearing nine children (she quips that the slow cooker was her life-saver).
Yet her social conscience remained restless. After joining ICA, she helped spearhead the establishment of the Killarney country market in the 1960s. For many farmers’ wives, it was their only opportunity to earn their own income. Joan remembers one lady who would have been from a “good” farm, kissing her cheque and declaring: “My own money.”
Being Involved
Joan hasn’t stalled since then. Highlights of her exhaustive CV include helping to bring the “Associated Women of the World” conference to Killarney in 1986 (when the GAA refused the use of the football pitch, she got the cathedral instead), chairing the South Kerry Equality for Women measure to encourage training and computer skills for women, and participating on an exchange between Ireland and China in 1988, where she recalls a memorable conversation with a high-flying female executive.
“I asked her: ‘Will your husband have your meal ready?’ and she said: ‘Oh no, he’s very patient. He’ll wait until I come home,” says Joan wryly.
However, one of her proudest achievements is starting the Women in Agriculture group in 1984, having identified the need for farm women in Kerry to have their own forum.
As well as campaigning on issues like pensions, the group has become a place to discuss farming issues and offer support in challenging times – in Joan’s own case, when her son Niall was killed in a road accident in 2010.
While the issues faced by farm women today differ to the 1950s, Joan doesn’t think life has become any easier. She sees farm inspections as a major stress on women, many of whom are pushed to the limit, working full-time jobs to keep their families afloat.
She is disappointed that more women don’t get involved in farm organisations, or start their own groups.
“You must be involved if you want to know what’s happening,” she says simply.
Nobody could accuse Joan Collins of not being involved.
She likes to stay tuned in to current affairs (she’s turned the dial to Pat Kenny on Newstalk), leaves no stone unturned when looking for information for a fellow farm woman, and is determined to keep driving – though admits one of the main reasons is because she doesn’t like to be rushed while shopping.
“I’m curious,” she laughs, when quizzed about the supply of her boundless energy.“But if I see a child that’s curious, I think they’re going to go far.”
• The Women in Agriculture group meets in the Killarney area on a monthly basis. New members are always welcome. For further information, contact Sheila Crowley on 064-66-24975. CL
It gets a giggle every time,” admits Joan Collins, of sharing her name with a former dynasty diva. (Indeed, when she spearheaded the bid that brought an international women’s conference to Killarney in 1986, The Sunday World reported that the actress would be in attendance.)
Though this Joan Collins – let’s call her the ‘original’ – sees the funny side of it. And at 87, the mother of nine and grandmother of 14, who has campaigned on behalf of women in agriculture throughout her life, is as feisty an interviewee as they come.
Despite offering to meet her at home, she arrives on her own four wheels at the Malton Hotel in Killarney, where she promptly insists on paying for lunch, despite our protests.
“I remember what it was like starting out in life,” she hushes, as she makes a beeline for the bar to grab the bill.
We consider a counter-surge, but think better of it. After all, it doesn’t take long to realise that Joan has never let anybody stand in her way.
Sense of Justice
Even as a child, she was aware of inequality between the sexes. Born on a 50-acre dairy farm in Killarney in 1926, she recalls the flash of indignation she felt when she first realised that the boys in the family were “treated better” than the girls.
“And what used to really make me mad was that we had to polish their shoes on a Saturday night,” she exclaims.
Perhaps that’s what drove her to become one of the few women of her generation to progress to third-level education, studying commerce and social science in UCD when college fees were £10 a year, dances were held in the “Aula Max” every Friday, and the Legion of Mary paid a personal visit to each student to ensure they didn’t go astray in the big smoke. Others were not so lucky. While working as a social worker at the Adelaide Hospital, Joan encountered many country people who had fallen on hard times in the capital, from unemployed farm labourers who came to Dublin seeking work (“You might get eight, nine or 10 of them in one room,” she recalls), to young housemaids who became pregnant after being taken advantage of by their employers.
||PIC2||
“They would be just dumped out the door,” she says.
However, her time in Dublin was cut short after she got shingles. After returning home to recuperate, she met and married her late husband Sean in 1954. With the marriage bar still in force, Joan turned her energies to the 150-acre farm, where she proved an astute manager while rearing nine children (she quips that the slow cooker was her life-saver).
Yet her social conscience remained restless. After joining ICA, she helped spearhead the establishment of the Killarney country market in the 1960s. For many farmers’ wives, it was their only opportunity to earn their own income. Joan remembers one lady who would have been from a “good” farm, kissing her cheque and declaring: “My own money.”
Being Involved
Joan hasn’t stalled since then. Highlights of her exhaustive CV include helping to bring the “Associated Women of the World” conference to Killarney in 1986 (when the GAA refused the use of the football pitch, she got the cathedral instead), chairing the South Kerry Equality for Women measure to encourage training and computer skills for women, and participating on an exchange between Ireland and China in 1988, where she recalls a memorable conversation with a high-flying female executive.
“I asked her: ‘Will your husband have your meal ready?’ and she said: ‘Oh no, he’s very patient. He’ll wait until I come home,” says Joan wryly.
However, one of her proudest achievements is starting the Women in Agriculture group in 1984, having identified the need for farm women in Kerry to have their own forum.
As well as campaigning on issues like pensions, the group has become a place to discuss farming issues and offer support in challenging times – in Joan’s own case, when her son Niall was killed in a road accident in 2010.
While the issues faced by farm women today differ to the 1950s, Joan doesn’t think life has become any easier. She sees farm inspections as a major stress on women, many of whom are pushed to the limit, working full-time jobs to keep their families afloat.
She is disappointed that more women don’t get involved in farm organisations, or start their own groups.
“You must be involved if you want to know what’s happening,” she says simply.
Nobody could accuse Joan Collins of not being involved.
She likes to stay tuned in to current affairs (she’s turned the dial to Pat Kenny on Newstalk), leaves no stone unturned when looking for information for a fellow farm woman, and is determined to keep driving – though admits one of the main reasons is because she doesn’t like to be rushed while shopping.
“I’m curious,” she laughs, when quizzed about the supply of her boundless energy.“But if I see a child that’s curious, I think they’re going to go far.”
• The Women in Agriculture group meets in the Killarney area on a monthly basis. New members are always welcome. For further information, contact Sheila Crowley on 064-66-24975. CL 
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