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Are you not cold?

I went up to the attic in search of bedding for the beagle. Given the fact that he usually eats his own bedding I was careful to try and pick out something durable but there was nothing there apart from a nice long cushion that I bought in the Celtic Tiger days, an Italian number, with shades of Autumn, vines and leaves. I had no choice but to haul it out, place it by the heater in the kitchen, bring the senior citizen of a canine in and point to his new home. He looked grateful. Practically smiled at me. Sniffed the potatoes baking in the oven, asked if we had sour cream to go with them and then fell into a deep beagle like sleep.

Oh it is so nice to be a dog in a middle class household. You get to have all the accoutrements of life as it should be if your owners are kind to you. You get to eat Basmati Rice and sometimes mashed potato mixed with Celeriac and you get to go on walks with your owners in nice parks and get to pee on nice manicured trees. It is ultimately the dream of a dog to live with proper people in proper houses who say proper things on all occasions, who fit into the realm of what it is to be nice and fitting people, who never screw up, who never say the wrong thing no matter how much they want to say it.

I was in Galway today. This morning to be precise. Early. Avoid the crowds I thought. Get in and get out as fast as I can. Galway is nice on an early morning in December. First you get to hear the gulls. They swamp the place. Zoom in over the car park, screeching their guts out. Defying why you are where you happen to be. You get out of your car and you stand to watch them. Territorial devils, the gulls. They make this place. And then you go shopping and now you cannot remember for what you shopped but it seemed important at the time. And you are walking down a laneway and it is one that you have walked down for years and there is a woman and you have walked by her for years too. Ignoring her. Despising her, maybe if you were honest because she always has her hand out for money. But you stop this day. You stop and say to her, how are you? Are you not cold? Why are you here? And she says to me, I am fine. I am not cold and she takes off her gloves and says feel my hands and I do and they are like hot toast and I say that is amazing, how is it possible that you can sit in this lane with such warm hands and she says I don't know and I give her some money and I tell her maybe she can get a cup of tea and then I walk away from her. I keep walking, passing all the shops with the tinsel and santa hats and bells and lights and all I can hear is the sound of the shrieking of gulls, swooping down into the litter of tomorrows, the debris of yesterdays.

 

Comments
23 Comment count
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Galwegian Delight

I haven't been in years but I have always liked Galway city, with Eyre Square, the Spanish Arch, the Galway Festival, the pubs and the close proximity to the sea.

As usual in your blog, your humanity shines through in both practical and existential ways with a touch of drama attached. Many thanks, Mary. 

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Oh thank you , Nicholas, so

Oh thank you , Nicholas, so you do know the city and the constant screeching from the gulls and the tiny lanes and the cobbles. You are kind to comment. mx

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Mary— I love the shifting

Mary—

I love the shifting points of view—yours, the dog's, and yours again, against the two rich landscapes. What an incisive depiction of need and empathy.  Simply gorgeous.

XO

B

 

 

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Thank you SO much, Barbara.

Thank you SO much, Barbara. Your words mean a great deal to me. mx

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How were her hands like hot

How were her hands like hot toast? This thought will stay with me for a long time, M. Because of the warmth and grace, of the woman and the one who touched those hands.

~F

PS: I must say that Barbara's comment is just so perceptive.

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I am touched by your

I am touched by your sensitivity, ~ f. Thank you. It takes one to know one. mx

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Awesome Work, MW

This is great stuff, from the concrete cushion in the attic through the dog-sense of peeing in the park to the gull-filled atmospherics of Galway.

Beautiful writing.  I'm envious.

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Ron, I know you do not mince

Ron, I know you do not mince your words, therefore, I appreciate your comment - treasure it actually. mx

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Agreeing with sll...

Yes, fascinating reading.  So liked Barbara's comment, but liked all the comments.

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Thanks for reading, Sue! mx

Thanks for reading, Sue! mx

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Mary, All God's Creatures,

Mary,

All God's Creatures, great and small. That's the thought that came to me as I read this piece.

Annette

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Great and small....

Oh, Annette. How beautiful of you to say that. Thank you. mx

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I wish there were a like button...

...becauseI think everyone else's comments cover my thoughts. Humanity, dichotomy, the transfer of warmth. Your blog is a favourite book, without being one, Mary. Beautiful, various and new (that's Matthew Arnold, but I'm pinching it). ~Hx

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Harrison, how lovely my day

Harrison, how lovely my day is now that I've read your kind 'comment'. Thank you.  mx

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My eyes are smarting

My eyes are smarting

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The lady in the lane

Mary,

When I lived in big cities, I hated passing the people begging on the street. Where I now live, there are no beggars. There are plenty of thieves, but no beggars.

I was proud I didn't cry the first time I read this, but I've reread it a few times and each time I was moved to tears. It's hard to admit how close some of us are to becoming the lady in the lane.

Thanks.

Jane

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Thank you, Jane. Your

Thank you, Jane. Your comments, input, insight, are appreciated...much appreciated. mx

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Ha Ha. Well, the heart works

Ha Ha. Well, the heart works okay most of the time but my brain.....gets a tad distracted. Just baked a cake, Jane. It's cooling on the counter top. Smells pretty good...wish you could join us for tea and cake. mx

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Offer me a bowl of olives and I'm there

It's so doggoned cold, I might just be able to walk across the Atlantic.

 

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The title's perfect

You keep churning out masterpieces!  It's not fair!

xxxxx

Jane

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My cakes can be masterpieces,

My cakes can be masterpieces, Jane. I put sugar butterflies on top of the frosting. They remind me of Summer. I thank you for your kind comments. You have encouraged me to believe in my writing. mx

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Fine - mail me a cake

Mary,

I'm sure your cakes are divine.  There's a mystical connection between cooking and words I've never understood. 

My step-daughter coined the phrase, "Dangerous Stew" when she was tiny and I've kept the phrase close to my heart, since.

XXXX

Jane