call me

Ma and the paedophile are still friends. He calls her on the phone everyday. Sometimes I am in the room when he calls and I have to excuse myself. She tells me he gives a lot of money to various charities.... blah, blah, blah...

I think she knows now that he was up to 'something' back then, but says that everyone thought he was just being affectionate and loving 'cos he had no kids of his own. He was being more than that to one of her kids. My brother has never admitted this to me but he has told my wife.

Tonight Ma was in one of her moods and told me I never phone her (I don't because I prefer to visit, which I do every other day.) It makes my blood boil when she tells me 'he' calls her everyday and her own son can't do the same. My brother, for his own reasons, doesn't want her to know what happened, and I have to respect that. But I come so close sometimes, times like tonight.

Weekend At Uncle M's

I've been looking after a couple of nephews, aged 5 & 7, and their 12yr old sister for a couple of days. I had forgotten how much energy kids have and how much energy one needs to keep up with them. They were great fun though and I fed them pizza and ice-cream and made them promise not to tell their mammy. Their mammy would certainly not approve. I guess this is all training for being a granda?  ;-)

Like The Corners Of My Mind...

No memories tonight.
My second of two gigs in a row in a marquee, this one on the shores of lough Derg. Fab night, great fun with the punters, even better fun with the staff!!

Singing is such a good distraction today. As is 12yr old Jameson. Night all, I hope I sleep the sleep of babies.  :-)

Gathering

One of my fondest memories is of me cycling to the village of Patrickswell on a Saturday morning with Mr Roche ( we always called our elders by their title), to pick mushrooms. That was so exciting for a kid of seven, a kid from the island. We left at dawn and cycled through the city to a village on the far side. No mean feat for a kid and an old man. I was so proud to present my Da with my big bag of mushrooms. Even prouder when he cooked them in milk and pepper and butter for his breakfast. His favourite breakfast.

I Know What You Did.

I spent the first twenty years of my life living next door to a paedophile. I didn't know what he was doing, I didn't know the word 'paedophile', but I knew something was strange, even as a kid. Why didn't the adults notice? He never did anything to me, maybe he tried and got nowhere, but he never liked me. I remember being very young when he told me that he was my real Da and he gave me away to the neighbours because he didn't love me.

He is still alive, and awaiting his imminent court date.

More To Come.

Turns out it wasn't the idyllic childhood I often tried to convince meself it was. Memories, they have a terrible habit of coming from behind and biting ya in the arse, just like the 'hoppers' that lived in me mattress.

(That's the opening line.)

back for a bit

The minister for education requests my company for the presentation of an award to my baby on the excellence of her achievements in the state exams. I should probably turn up yeah?