Five Get Back Together Again. (Nothing To Do With Enid!)

Fourteen weeks ago daughter #2 moved out of home into her first apartment. Just for the summer.
She's 19 and wanted to experience independence.
And she did.
And loved it.
And it was with our blessing.
She returned home today, and I expected her to be a bit sad at doing so, having had 'a life' for the past three months.
But she was so happy being 'back in the fold' as she called it.
She is the liveliest of our three (and by that I mean 'wilder', takes after her da some say!), and I had forgotten how noisy our house used to be when all three were here together.
And I missed that.
And I missed setting the table for five.
So once again we are a full house.
And we love it!  :¬)

xxx

Seamus Heaney 1939 - 2013

Digging

BY SEAMUS HEANEY

Between my finger and my thumb   

The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound   

When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:   

My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds   

Bends low, comes up twenty years away   

Stooping in rhythm through potato drills   

Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft   

Against the inside knee was levered firmly.

He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep

To scatter new potatoes that we picked,

Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade.   

Just like his old man.

My grandfather cut more turf in a day

Than any other man on Toner’s bog.

Once I carried him milk in a bottle

Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up

To drink it, then fell to right away

Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods

Over his shoulder, going down and down

For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap

Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge

Through living roots awaken in my head.

But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests.

I’ll dig with it.

(Brings to mind a good friend!)

3 - 0

Oh YESSSSS!

Aye Gym Me

My pal's wife dropped in for a visit after tea this evening with the kids, two girls (6 & 4) and the one year old youngfella. (I miss having wee ones about the place!) I tried to play a bit of footie with him in the back garden but he hasn't quite got the hang of it yet. Keeps running around in circles as if one foot is nailed to the ground. Takes after his auldfella in that respect, especially after we've been to the pub, (which is where we'll be tonight to watch the game! COYBIG!!)

Man I forgot how much energy little 'uns have, and how little I have!
It's time to get that energy back before the grandkids start appearing!
So, started setting up me home gym today, I was knackered just getting the stuff outa the boxes!
Wish me well, and The Bhoys tonight!

Reddy

                                          Saw this and thought of you Ms. Quotes!

15

Fifteen years and five months ago my wife, four months pregnant was rushed to hospital.
I was told she would need immediate surgery.
As I signed the consent forms I was told that the baby she was carrying would not survive.
Against all odds the baby did survive, but I was told not to hold out too much hope.
Today, Fifteen years and five months later our dear baby Helena celebrates her 15th birthday.
The house is alive with her teenage friends.

Mapless

So, here's the story, time to re-invent.
You will know me when I call.

Go Raibh Maith Agaibh.

The dark skin of a sunny summer is starting to fade, as is my love of this blog.
I think the time has come to bid farewell.
Not today, but soon dear friends.
A man is bored.
Time to start anew, yeah?

17

He gave me one of those first ever cassette recorders on the proviso that I would tape the 'Top 30' every Sunday afternoon. I would hover over the Play & Pause buttons in between the ads, waiting for the start of the next song and trying to miss the last second of the DJ's voice. That's when I knew I would have to be in a band! I was 12 years old, he was my brother in law, he was in a band.

A year later I was in a band, although it was a marching band, a pipe band, and I loved it. And still he encouraged me to learn a more modern instrument, or learn to sing.
When I did become a singer, in my early twenties, he would come along to gigs with my sis, and give me tips afterwards about sound, levels, projection, how to be more confident.

He had a reputation for being a ladies man, a flirt, something I have been accused of many times since I entered this world of show. And yes, I do find flirting with the audience to be part of the job. Sadly he took it further.

And unfortunately, one of the 'ladies' he chose to have a dalliance with was the estranged wife of a not very nice scumbag.

17 years ago today he was shot a number of times on his doorstep as he returned home from one of his gigs. He died in the arms of his youngest son.

Our family was shot that night.

The Ma, Mam, Mama, Maaaaaaaaaaam!

She doesn't like it.
Being called 'Ma'!
We do it just to annoy her.
She prefers 'Mam', or 'Mama'.
So we call her 'Ma'!
Cos she annoys the fuck out of us.
Always has, always will!
Ma is 88 today.
I offered to have a party in my gaff for her, but she said "Why would I want a party? I don't drink whiskey anymore!"
I said "OK, but WE DO!!"
She (who must be obeyed!) may or may not let us know if she will have a party!
I love her anyhoo!

Happy Birthday Ma, I LOVE YOU!  :)