A Room Of My Own

Swisser reckons I need a retreat - somewhere where me and my pigs and my dogs can go to hang out. A hut in the woods maybe, with a wood-burning stove and a lamp to read by. No lecky, far too modern. Let's not tell the pesky Land & Property Services.

And we'll pee in the trees.

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Sometime in the 1930s

I love this photograph. It was loaned to me by brother Joe who got the loan of it from cousin Joe and I am going to make a few copies of it to share around the family. The little girl is my Aunt Mary, the same Mary who died recently. The boy is one of her many brothers. I'm not certain which one. Maybe Dessie or Cathal, both of whom emigrated to Australia, and are the only two of my father's ten siblings still living. The man in the background might be my grandfather but I'm not sure of that either.

I love the photograph because it is so informal, because the children are wearing their everyday clothes and because of the little calf. They were farm kids after all. I also love the fact that both children's faces are so familiar to me because they resemble so many other family members.

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Happy Birthday Matty

Matty's 84th birthday today. The picture shows her standing beside her new back door. It was taken at the beginning of the month. She is thinner and weaker now but mostly in good spirits. Happy birthday mum!

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Shiny Man

I was really looking forward to my wee lunchtime walk today because I've not been getting so many of them recently as I usually spend the time at Matty's. I decided to go a bit further afield from the office. There was a road I wanted to walk down as a neighbour had recently built a fine house there and I was keen on a nosey.

So I parked the car on a wide verge and headed down this road. I was stepping out smartly plugged into Proust (I'm on 'The Captive' now) when a jeep stopped beside me. I took off the headphones thinking I'd be asked for directions and hoping I'd be up to the job. The shiny man in the shiny car said,

I hope you don't mind me asking but you're parked outside my house - can I ask what you're doing?

I was puzzled. Surely it was evident.

I'm walking. I'm going for a wee walk.

There's you and another lady who make a habit of parking outside my house. I just want to know what's going on?

I don't know about anyone else but I haven't walked on this road for over a year and the last time I parked there I had a different car. As I said I'm just going for a walk.

I glared at him as I said this and he drove off, turned in the next laneway and headed home-wards.

I was miffed and resolutely ignored him so I've no idea whether he ignored me as well. And that was that. I continued with my walk as planned, 20 minutes down the road and 20 minutes back. But I was pissed off. Thought he was a wanker, so precious about his house that he couldn't bear people parking near it. I wasn't blocking his access. I wasn't making it difficult for anyone to get past me. I was parked on a bloody verge that belonged to the DOE. Not him! Maybe he was one of those prissy types who cuts the grass on the road opposite his house in case it makes his property look untidy.

I told the tale later on at Matty's and it turns out one of my cousins knew who this man was. Not his name but his profession. He's a police officer. Clink! Penny drops. Ah well Mr Shiny Man. I'll forgive your intrusion on my wee lunchtime walk - even though you're not as bright as you're shiny.

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Envy

Picture it. Yours truly is standing, waiting to be served, behind a tidy wee woman in the local shop (for local people.)

This wee tidy woman, neat in pressed trousers, an ironed blouse and a cropped pewter-grey haircut receives her change. She takes it, places the notes in the appropriate note part of her wallet. She puts the coins in the appropriate coin part of her wallet. She zips her wallet, she folds it over, she snaps it shut, she puts it in the appropriate part of her handbag, she zips her handbag, she folds it over, she snaps it shut. She takes her shopping, she leaves. I look daggers at her, I mutter, I wish her and her ironed blouse and her fat, beige bum, and her pewter hairdo dead and in her neat, well-kept grave.

I stand there with my newly-washed, still wet hair and my jeans that are covered in pig slabbers and mud and I buy my Sunday paper and my toilet roll and I hand over four pounds and receive five pence change which I stuff in the pocket of my pig-smeared jeans and I leave with a heart full of hate for the neat, well-pressed woman. And then I think…. I bet that woman hasn’t lost her debit card twice in the past month.

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Walking the Dog (and the Pig and the Cat)

I used to think it was cool when we took the dogs for a walk down the back lane and through the wood, that Holly de Cat would come too. Now we take the dogs and Lily and Rusty and Holly de Cat comes too. I don't think she's crazy about the pigs. But she comes too.

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Katy & Mark

Happy to be in love, originally uploaded by KatyKatkins.

Was my Katy not beautiful on her wedding day?

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