Ramble Inn

Mum and Bert took me to lunch today. We went to the Ramble Inn, just a mile or two up the road from Mother and it was the first time she ever darkened its door! Bert reckons she thinks pubs are places that smell of porter and woodbines where the bar is propped up by gather-ups and n’eer-do-wells drinking the housekeeping money and spitting in the sawdust. She was able to tell us that when she first came to Tannaghmore that the Ramble was called Wilson’s Stores and sold everything from animal feed to Tilly lamps. She also said that there was a blacksmith just behind it. Can’t you imagine the good old boys taking the horse to be shod and biding their time at the bar with a bottle of porter and a woodbine?

After eating we went down to Randalstown to see Dad. He was not quite as good as he’d been on Tuesday but did seem pleased to see Bert. He seemed very aware when I told him that Anne and Tricia would be coming home soon. Nurse called me back and told me he’s having problems with his foot with a sore that won’t heal. Apparently the circulation to his feet is pretty piss-poor but they are going to have it tested properly. I’d also noticed his chest was wheezy and mentioned this to Nurse. She said he’d be seeing the doctor tomorrow. As we left he waved and smiled at us through the window which was nice. He was still waving as the car pulled away.

A memo for all that know and love him - he’ll be 85 next Thursday.