Every Picture: Hair Cut

This picture shall serve as an aide memoire for I really must get my hair cut. It is becoming so unruly. I don't have a fringe (which Americans call bangs) but when the front bit of my hair grows long it falls over my brow in two corkscrew ringlets which would be cute on a two-year-old but less so on the holder of an over-sixties travel pass.

We have the young ladies here tonight and they were very hard to settle. I blame Bert for indulging them with far too much horseplay, swinging them by the ankles, which they love, but which causes the blood to rush to their heads and the over-stimulation of their young brains.

One reading of Charlie and Lola was not enough. I also had to tell them the story of Aunt Jean's three imaginary friends Dogie, Simplit and Doodle, then the one when I went to Portrush on the Parish Excursion, felt it was far beneath my dignity to go on the helter-skelter and ended up wetting myself laughing at Jean when she did.

It still wasn't enough. Martha needed to hear the one where Tricia spent so long in hospital after her appendix burst that her hair started to grow and afterwards she was allowed to have it long. That led to a discussion about great-aunts' current hair colours and do they dye their hair? I said I never really noticed these things and she could ask them herself. Evie was dozing off but Martha still wasn't satisfied. I finished off with a long story about my great-grandmother, their great-great-great grandmother.

Granny: More than a hundred years ago!

Martha: A hundred years...

She could barely fathom it. The story was about widowhood, clever sons, Spanish Flu and the perils of amateur tree surgery. Moral of the tale - never stand below a tree when it is being pruned.

Katy's Rescue: A Story About A Man Who Kept His Head

I found this delightful book in Bellaghy's one and only charity shop. It was published in 1953 so is the same vintage as me. Martha adores it and I read it to her at least two times every day she is here. Both Martha and Evie love stories and love being read to. And I love to read to them. I also enjoy telling them stories that are not written down.

Madeline's Rescue features a dog, later named Genevieve, who kept her head and rescued Madeline when she fell in to the River Seine. I told the girls a true story about a man who kept his head when Aunt Katy fell in to the River Braid.

So girls... are you sitting comfortably? This is a true story that happened a long time ago when Mummy and Aunt Katy and Aunt Hannah were only girls. Hannah was the youngest, She was about the same age as you Martha. Katy was about 8 or 9 years old and your Mummy was 12 or 13. Bert had a yellow car that we called the Yellow Submarine and we'd often jump in to it and go somewhere nice for a walk. One of our favourite places to go was Currel's Avenue just outside Ballymena. We'd take Danny (he was our dog back then) and we'd walk beside the river. There was a swing there. It wasn't a proper swing like the one in the garden. It was just a piece of stick on a rope. You'd stand on the bank and get the stick between your legs and go swinging over the river. It was very exciting and a bit dangerous. Bert went first and he was very good at it. Then it was your Mummy and she was good at it too. Then it was Katy's turn. Katy was lighter than Bert and Zoe and she bounced around when she swung over the river. The next thing she bounced off and went splash! into the water. Down she went under the water! Then her head appeared. Down she went again! I could see Bert starting to kick his boots off and throw off his coat. Aunt Hannah, who was very young, started to scream and she ran off in a panic. I could see that Bert was going to get Katy out so I ran after Hannah who was racing away and not seeming to care where she ran or what she ran in to! She thought that her sister was going to die. I knew that Katy was going to be OK because Bert was keeping his head. By the time I caught Hannah and soothed her and brought her back Katy was safe. Zoe said that Danny the dog had jumped into the river too. He liked swimming and he thought that if everyone was going to be splashing about in the river he should too! Poor Katy was soaking wet so all of us shared out our clothes so she could go home in dry things. Bert just drove us home even though he was drenched. He didn't mind because he was very happy that he had kept his head and been a hero. When we got home Katy had a warm bath and Bert got dry clothes and a nice hot cup of tea and everyone was very happy.

Did you like that story?
Yes. Tell it again.

So I did.

This Girl I Knew

She was small, slight and beautiful. She was also selfish, lost and betrayed; she was greatly loved and she had been hugely abused.

I remember her best sitting in an armchair, hugging her knees. Even when she was still – she was never still. She talked. She smoked. She drank. She remembered. And she tried hard to forget.

She had many friends, yet at the end, no friends. None she’d let near, none she let help her. She’d had many families too. They too kept away – and were kept at bay.

She had a fierce temper. Despite her tiny stature she would get angry, fly at people, fight. She was always so sorry afterwards. Always forgave her enemies and expected forgiveness from others. She did not begrudge.

She took what wasn’t hers without any shame. If she was hungry she ate. If she was thirsty she drank.

She listened to Moby over and over again. She made me hate Moby.

She’d wander the house all night and sleep all day. She’d go for days without washing then stand in the shower for hours.

She’d go out. And she wouldn’t come back for days. It was a relief – and it was a worry too.

She would never recover from being gang-raped. For months she’d kept the memory buried deep. But when it suppurated to the surface she couldn’t bear it. There were so many of them. It had been such a betrayal.

Afterwards she slipped slowly and inexorably into depression, alcoholism and madness. She’d wander the streets muttering or singing to herself. She couldn’t be reached. She was in a ‘world of her own.’ This was the girl he murdered, wrapped in old curtains and dumped in an alleyway.

But she was murdered long before that. And I know the name of that other murdering bastard.

Did Ye Not Hear Me Yelling?

I went out to Matty’s last night to take her on her Thursday night run to the supermarket. Says she,

You might have been coming to my wake this evening!

What do you mean?

Well…. I was at the doctor’s this morning….

My mind started racing ahead of me. She was at the doctor. Did she take a heart attack in the doctor’s surgery? Surely not. She’d hardly be getting her coat on ready for Tescos if she’d had a heart attack…..

<><><>

A good long while ago Bert was out with his ma a run. She wanted something from the Spar in the village but couldn’t be bothered going in for it herself so sent the big son in instead. Bert left her sitting in the car at the front of the shop and went in and gathered up her few bits and pieces.

When he came out he couldn’t see the car. He shook his head in puzzlement. Surely it hadn’t been stolen. Not with an oul doll sitting in it?

He turned his head to the left and there it was. The bonnet was all buckled out of shape and there was a bent lamp post leaning into it. And there sitting stoically in the passenger seat was Pearlie.

What happened?

Did ye not hear me yelling?

Hear you yelling? I was in the bloody shop!

The car moved off by itself. I thought it was going to run out into the road. I started shouting on ye but ye never came.

Could you not have pulled on the handbrake?

Could ye not have pulled it on yersel before ye got oot of the car?

<><><>

Yesterday history repeated itself. If you were driving along the A26 towards Ballymena about lunchtime and saw a driverless car reversing slowly on to the dual carriageway, with a little old lady sitting in the passenger seat, a look of mild panic on her face, then that was nothing to do with me. I was at work at the time. The driver of the car, a very kindly person, was in the filling station picking up an Irish News so that her passenger could check up on the deaths.

If it hadn’t been for the quick witted chap who saw what was happening, jumped from his car, stopped the traffic and drove the little old lady to a safer spot, she too might have featured in the following day’s Irish News.

Obviously I have this on hearsay and know none of the people involved. Still I thought it might be a good idea to show Matty the workings of the handbrake just in case she ever finds herself in such a situation.

Another True Story

It was when the brother lived in London that he knew this guy, in his early thirties, who still lived with his old Mum and Dad who were very good to him.

Yerman was by no means a druggie but he took a liking to smoking cannabis after falling in with some bad company.

Of course his elderly folks being unworldly types would have had no idea that their young fellow would be getting into such devilment so yerman was in a bit of a quandary when he found that the remains of his ten-deal was missing from his bedside table. So he says,

Mother! Have you been cleaning my room again?

Yes son. I've been up cleaning your room. Why? What's up?

Did you throw anything away? Something on my bedside table?

Like what son?

Er. Um. Like a bit of mud?

Mud?

And his father goes,

Mud! What you mean mud? Have you not been cleaning his room properly Mother?

Zwartbles 2, Rottweilers 0

Cast of Characters

Fred. An Organic Gardener
Millie. A Dog Owner
Spider. Millie’s consort
Constable Peter. A PSNI Officer
Constable Paul. Another PSNI Officer

The Scene: A small market garden. Adjacent to the market garden is a meadow where a small flock of sheep are grazing peacefully. Fred is tipping a barrow load of compost on to a heap when he sees Millie who is just outside the market garden gate. She is unfastening the leashes on two large and rather fat Rottweilers.

Fred: Have I not told you before about letting those dogs loose near those sheep? Can you not see that sign I have up?

Millie: Why don’t you mind your own business? My dogs’ll not go near your oul sheep.

Millie is wrong about this as the dogs are already running into the field with the sheep. The sheep are cornered at the bottom of the field. The dogs are barking and snapping at them. Then out of the huddle comes the ram. He is a fine large specimen of a pedigree Zwartble. He lowers his head and rams the nearest dog right between the eyes. The dog runs off stunned and whimpering softly. The other dog goes for the ram. The ram undaunted charges into its side and it is obvious that this dog has been hurt. Millie starts screeching.

Millie: Luck at my dog. That dog is hurt. You owe me a lot of money mister. There’s going to be big vet’s bills to pay. That’s if the dog doesn’t die. That dog’s worth a fortune. He’s got a pedigree as long as your arm. You are going to be paying me big money mister!

Fred: Money you say? Aye maybe I do owe ye a lot of money. And maybe I don’t. What do you say we get the police here and hear what they have to say?

Millie: You get the police if you like. I’m ringing my husband. He’s going to have plenty to say to you about this let me tell you!

Ten minutes later. The stunned dog is hiding behind Millie. The hurt dog is lying on its side panting. Spider arrives. In the distance a police car is slowly approaching.

Spider: What the fuck is going on here? What have you done to my dog?

Fred: I’ve done nothing to your dog but the ram has probably cracked his ribs. I’d get him to a vet pretty quick if I were you.

Spider: The vet? Aye and you’ll be paying the bill!

Fred. We’ll see.

Spider: You will. Let me assure you, you will pay for this. One way or another.

Millie: Aye you’ll pay. We know boys who’ll make you pay. Don’t we Spider?

Spider: Too fucking right. The main boy in Harrykeel is a very good friend of ours. We’re very well connected.

Fred: Well that’s very nice for you. Here’s the police. Let’s hear what they have to say.

Millie: This boy here is keeping a dangerous animal in that field and it has half kilt our dog. Luck at him lying there!

Constable Peter: You had the dogs off the lead.

Millie: Aye but that’s not the point…

Constable Peter: And Mr Carr has a big sign up on the gate warning people to keep their dogs on a lead.

Millie: Aye but the dogs were off the lead outside his place.

Constable Peter: But they ran straight into the field where the sheep were. You hadn’t those dogs under control. I don’t see how Mr Carr could have done any more to protect your dogs.

Millie: But that’s ridiculous.

Constable Peter: Tell me Mr Carr, do you have a shotgun?

Fred. No I don’t.

Constable Peter: Well you’d be entitled to have a shotgun. And then you’d be able to shoot any dog that worried your sheep.

Millie: (screeching) Whaaaat! That cannot be right!

Constable Peter: I assure you it is. Isn’t that correct Constable Paul?

Constable Paul: That is correct. And Madam I’d advise you take your dog to a vet immediately.

THE END

What Happened Next

There was no word of the injured dog. Fred hasn’t seen Millie, Spider or their dogs since.

Fred did not lose much sleep over the promised visit from the Head Man of the Paramilitaries.

He decided against getting a shotgun. The Zwartbles can take care of themselves..