Posted by Butch on October 26, 2000 at 22:42:28:
In Reply to: Re: The diving board posted by JDP on October 24, 2000 at 10:24:25:
Grat stuff JDP. A litany of who's who at the diving board , now i know why my copybook was snathed by the Gods for a reason you all fill the gaps in our memory and remind us of those we knew who have now gone before us. Your memories supplement ours causing the domino effect in all of us .They say smell is the earliest memory laying dormant untill woken by turf burning in the fire, or steaming black tarmacadam freshly laid on the streets , or the pungent odour of the manure i carried in the wheelbarrow from the barn to the old man's garden ,the sublime blossem of roses growing in the garden ,the pipe tobacco of James Charles Daly patriarch and grandfather seating in his chair infront of the firplace cutting up the wad of tobacco in his hand kneading and cuting till it was pliant enough to stuff into the briar and the ritual of burning, clouds of smoke ,as the box of matches held with one hand ,pipe in the other, somwhere in the middle a lit match with manual dexterity a flame shoots up as the sucked up air releases,the tobacco catches fire on a few more attempt and then subsides into a warm red glow and he sitting back relaxed into the crook of his knotted leather backed chair.And he would ask for the hundreth time the same question "Well Butchie (Tom Tom denning would later pick up on this name from my cousins in the barracks and change it to Budgie and taunt me across the public streets in a loud voice. I'll be back, ya little fecker )i digress, mea culpa.he continued "where were you born?" "Burncourt" i would reply "How do spell it" he would ask i would do so correctly and i would be admonished never to forget and that folkes was the end of the test no punch line no message so we take a hint from a wise old man folkes and head back to Burncourt but we gotta go the way we came thro briars and brambles ,thorns and thistles, nettles burning ,asses braying,horses neighing ,saying, nay!nay! na bhi ag dul amiugh ta se an contuirteach i say yea!yea! come along for the craic buckle your belt,saddle your horse,start your car, ca bfuil do rothar? grab hold of your didgerydoo and head off towards the sunset a flash of green before an geal goes down over clew bay.The sound of the flute was later heard playing in the distance. Later on that evening he would prepare himself for another ritual that of going to town ,Grandad was long retired from the "Royal Irish Constabulary" yes folks "a shilling from the crown" and later on from the Norwich insurance co. as an agent in these here parts. Grandad was always regally attired in suit with vest and shirt unbuttoned in privacy ablutions in the back with much sloshing of water and lathering of soap and the open razor in front of the mirror,blade reflecting, slaping back and forth in decisive movements carresing the leather to sharpen the edge to scrape the stubbleTheir bedroon window looked out onto newport rd and morans field rising up sleightly behond past the hedge ,beneath the windowsill outside stood Granddad's bicycle waiting...inside there was a fireplace a small one with a decorative iron grate about six inches tall and a foot wide curved with pins into posts on either sides of the fireplace allowing the grate to swing upward for removal of ashes and clunkers. In the corner a basinet stand, with towel rack, circular in form ,made from mahogany ,with curved legs,threefold, and underneath a shelf for the the porcelain jug which looked up directly at the belly of the basin, white greyish porcelain that sat snug in it's sunken seat ,thus in this manner, uisce, hot or cold would be ferried from the back scullery to the bedroom for more of Granddad's ablutions as Granny ran and worked the farm full time and had no time for these nicieties!,"damm and blast ye" would be more appropriate as she pushed you out of the way rushing out the back door to bring the cows in for milking amongst a million other chores she performed in a single day. Meanwhile,Grandads in front of the mirror on the tallboy in the bedroom ,a magnificent walnut cabinet, for his suits and her sunday best,. She was no slouch when it came to looking good for mass on a sunday and other notable occasions and was not lacking for fine milinery. Grandad was by now wrestling with his collar, a detachable device ,which of course attaches to the neck of the shirt by considerable manipulations from a selection of pin striped ,white, grey, light blue.,not necessarlly matching the shirt but complimenting by contrast. The final machinations of which i was privy to were now nearly compleated , cuff links, a suitable tie was selected ,waistcoat buttoned , jacket from hanger, emering into the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind him...... 'THERE WILL NOW BE A SHORT INTERMISSION REFRESHMENTS WILL BE SERVED IN THE LOUNGE'
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