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DIARY: Ruminations, Occasional thoughts & happenings - as they arise Sister-in-Law's Brain - Sunday 29th June 2003My sister-in-law Sally mentioned during lunch today that she had a brain scan a few months ago. Her husband Gerry, in high good humour, burbled from behind his Hennessey cognac digestif, "They didn't find anything!" A son's weekend visit to Ardglass - Sunday, 22nd June 2003My 21-year old son Conor normally spends his weekends in Dublin, where he does a bit of studying at university and a lot of party-making. This weekend he made the 100 mile motorcycle trip to Ardglass, with a huge back-pack of dirty clothes wrapped around him. The washing machine and dryer were monopolised for two days. "Dad," he says on arrival, "The battery of your mobile phone needs recharging. I'll do it for you." He also said that the house was quite clean - just a bit untidy. (You should see his various university lodgings!) "Why are you here this weekend?" I asked. "Ach, everybody was going home and I would have been all alone in Dublin," he says. ""Good. Lovely to see you." So we have a cuppa and intermittent chats as he gets busy with my mobile, which obviously needs much re-charging. "I'm taking this with me in case you need to get in touch with me," he says, rushing out the door on Saturday night. "Where are you going...?" I manage to bleat. "Downpatrick," he says, just before the door slams, "to see Pete and Mal and some of the boys." I settle down to watch "Casualty" and M.I.T. He returns at 9.30 this morning "Good meeting with Mal and Pete?" I enquire. "Yeah - really great!" he says. "Loads of food and a few drinks. It really was great craic. Lovely to see the lads again." It turns out that he ate a mountain of barbecued food (he eats only intermittently in Dublin) and that the few drinks included a litre of cider, a pint or two of lager and a half-dozen or so Jack Daniels and Coke The JDs etc. explain why he did not return until Sunday morning. After eating a Half-Roast Duckling in the Ardglass Golf Club at lunchtime he rushed out to the motorcycle, shrugged into his leathers and turned himself into a mountainous hunchback under a load of clean clothes. "Off now to Dublin, via Fermanagh," he says. "Fermanagh!" I exclaim. "To see D.," he says. "Oh, D." says I. "That's the nice girl who comes from Fermanagh but is normally in Dublin every weekend?" "That's right," he says. "Och, I see," I say. "And Nuala, and Gerry and all the rest of your pals were also away?" "Right," he says. "Dublin via Fermanagh," I say, "about 220 miles! You're daft!" "Well, I'm away!" "Right - where's my mobile?" "I left it on your desk, he says, as he roars off. Later, at home, after I have slept off my own half-duck indulgence, I hear my mobile ring. I can't find it. Again later, and fully awake, I ring the mobile from my landline and discover it among the screwdrivers, hammer, electric drill and hosepipe that grace my entrance hallway. I take this as either a mild criticism of my untidy life or approval of my handy storage arrangements. I check who called. It's somebody identified as D. I call back. "He's here," she says, "Do you want to speak to him?" "No way," I say. "I've had enough of him for one weekend." Just at that the phone dies and a notice comes up telling me that I have only 60 seconds left on the machine. I presume that this is because Conor has been helping me by recharging it so much. I notice I have some text messages. One reads, "MARRIAGE NO WAY! Come on in and join us for a barbecue and a few drinks." That's not for me, I think. I have a look at the next message. It says "hey cutey, how about a long nite of heavy dirty kinky sweaty rampant unbelievably horny well needed passionate uncontrolable savage bedbreaking PILLOW FIGHTS? u up4it? " "Ach well," I murmur to myself, "I can understand why Conor needed a long-weekend in Ardglass." |