Where's Mappy?

Is that really my future self walking in front of me?




(Pic by Bock)

Mrs. Map & Mrs. Mac (About A Ring)

Many moons ago, in a another lifetime, (on a faraway planet?). The Map was bethrothed to another (Not Mrs. Map!). But it was not meant to be, and she did marry another. But, like all good tales, there was a happy ending. For if the one who would not be my missus back then hadn't changed her mind I would never have met my true love.

And today we celebrate our 21st wedding anniversary!

But I did get the ring back. (From the other wan!)

And for reasons I will tell of another day, my dear friend Mrs. Mac has worn that ring on her finger for the past quarter of a century. And I had forgotten about that ring completely until a couple of days ago when I saw her twirling it 'round her finger when I went to visit her in the hospice.

"Look" says she, "I told you I would never take it off"! And we had a good laugh remembering how she came to be the owner!

She was still wearing it last night when I gave her a final kiss as she lay peacefully in her coffin. And as I hugged her two daughters and four sons they each whispered into my ear "She's still got that ring on her finger"!

We will lay her in the ground later on today, and celebrate her life.
On the same day Mrs. Map and myself celebrate the life we have together.
A life we would not have if that ring was still on the finger it was bought for.

Farewell my dear friend.

Annette (Mrs. Map), I love you more each and every day, Happy Anniversary.

'Abroad'

Jimmy's post about London reminded me of the song 'Missing You' by Jimmy Mac Carthy, (a song about emigration in the 1980's), and of the friends and family who have recently left for foreign shores in search of work and a better life. And of another generation, including Da, who did the same in the 1950's. There seems to be a thirty year pattern here.

In the author's own words from his book 'Ride On';

'Missing You' is a song that highlights the plight of those who left Ireland in search of work in the building trade in the mid-1980's. In my time in England, and especially when I lived in Arlington Road, Camden Town, I heard many stories of those who came to make big money, hoping to return in glory only to find themselvs at the butt end of Paddy jokes, and the suspicion engendered by the fallout from the troubles. With big wages, came big drinking; and with big drinking came destitution. I would know them at a glance, I found them everywhere and it broke my heart.

I hope with all my heart that the weather stays fair for the current wave of emigrants from this country.

I have reproduced the lyrics of 'Missing You' rather than just put up the video.
(These are the original lyrics which differ slightly from the version used by Christy Moore.)

Missing You.

In nineteen hundred and eighty six
Not much work for a chippie or swinging the pick
And you can't live on love, and on love alone
So you sail o'er the ocean, away cross the foam

To where you're a Paddy, and where you're a Mick
Not much use at all bar stacking a brick
And your mate was a spade and he carried the hod
Two old heavy horses, heavily shod

Oh I'm missing you
I'd give all for the price of the flight
Oh I'm missing you under Picadilly's neon

And who did you murder, and are you a spy?
I'm just fond of the drink helps me laugh, helps me cry
And I took to the port for a permanent high
Now I laugh a lot less, and I'll cry till I die

Now the summer is fine, but the winter's a fridge
Wrapped up in old cardboard under Charing Cross Bridge
And I'll never go home, It's because of the shame
Of a misfit's reflection in a shop window pane.

So all you young people take an advice
Before crossing the ocean you'd better think twice
Cause you can't live without love, without love alone
Here's the proof 'round the West End in the nobody zone

Oh I'm missing you
I'd give all for the price of the flight
Oh I'm missing you under Piccadilly's neon

Followers? (Still no sign from here!)

???



Update; Right, you're back, all except one. Which little fecker jumped ship?

For 'HOPE' And All Who Sail In Her

Fear, Da, Love, D'Island.

As a kid, growing up in d'island, not the most salubrious area in the city, my biggest fear was not the 'big boys' who hung out on every corner, it was not the gangs who would stop you and take whatever pennies you had in your pocket. It wasn't even the Christian Brothers with their leather straps and their haunty eyes. It wasn't even the fear of Father xxx in the confessional box of a Friday and telling him of the terrible sin I had been doing with myself!
No, my biggest fear was of the Ma telling the Da of my misbehaviour!
Not that the Da was goin' to punish us, for he never would.
It was just for the look of disappointment in his face.
It killed me.
I would rather he gave me a slap.
But he never did slap any of his kids.
Except for his firstborn, Helen.
And that is the one single thing he MOST regretted in his life.
He told the story many times, to all of us as we grew up, that the most guilt he had ever felt was hitting his own child in a moment of anger. It was just the one time, but he so regretted it, and he told us of the many hours he cried because of it.
My dear departed sister never remembered the incident, but Da always did.
And he never did physically punish any of us. Ever.
And that is why my biggest fear was always of my Ma telling us that she would tell Da if we had been 'bold'!
Not because we thought he would punish us physically,
But because of the look of disappointment in his face.
That hurt so much more than a slap.
And that's why we all tried so hard to never see that look.
And it worked.
Miss you Da.

R&RRRRRRRRRRR!

Mrs. Map is taking me away for a few days to my favourite city, Galway.
5 star luxury no less! ( I DO hope the paparazzi give me a break!)
Mind the shop while I'm away.