Christy Moore is on the CD player. He is away from the island on his Honda 50. The rain is pelting down outside. The wind is whooooshing through the trees out the back. I have sliced the last of Teds ham and made a stew of sorts in a big pot with spuds, garlic, onions, tomatoes, organo, parsnips and carrots. And Teds ham. With meat balls. In the kitchen. And a splash of red wine.
Luisne is beside me, in deep conversation with Peppa Pig, courtesy of the internet. Christy doesn’t seem to mind. Neither do I. We are cosy here. Thanks be to God. I used to have a Honda 50 but that’s another story.
Christmas was nice. This blog was well looked after. So was the rest of the clann. We are very lucky. I am glad to get the rest. I haven’t seen your man for a wee while. Since before Christmas. Since he left me in Dublin.
The next day I went to Drogheda. I wandered along West Street. There is a man who sells organic vegetables from a stall there on Fridays. West Street has a street market on Fridays. I be there every third Friday. Or at least I was there every third Friday in 2011. Or every third Friday since the General Election. The other Fridays I was in Dundalk or East Meath. Doing constituency work.
So on Fridays I also shop for vegetables. Not always at the street market in Drogheda. Sometimes I got to a lovely wee Green Grocers in Dundalk. They sell very nice Florance Cakes there. As well as vegetables. When I was a wee lad my granny used to send me to McErleans Home Bakery on the Andytown Road just below Saint Agnes Chapel to get her a Florence Cake – spelt with an e instead of the a of Dundalk. So I like Florence Cakes whatever way they are spelt.
Other times when I know I’m going be in Dublin on the Saturday I go to Moore Street. I like Moore Street.
But I especially like the organic vegetables that I get in West Street. Especially the fresh dates. And the figs. The Friday before Christmas I noticed that the man selling the organic vegetables had mistletoe on his stall. He was talking to me at the time about what was going on in Iran. I only figured out afterwards that he was so up to date with all the sceal from those parts because that’s where his dates come from.
That’s when I noticed that the mistletoe wasn’t hanging up. I mentioned this to your man when we spoke on the phone.
‘I suppose he is just being careful’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ I wondered.
‘I mean if he had his mistletoe hanging up some people might think that was an invitation’.
‘To kiss!’ he exclaimed.
‘I know that’ I said, still not getting his point.
‘Well’ he explained slowly ‘ If his dates come from Iran he wouldn’t want to be jeopardising that by kissing anyone else!’
‘Ho Ho Ho’ I retorted. ‘ see you in 2012!’
‘2012!’ he exclaimed. ‘2012 here we come!’