It Goes On

“God give me glory, or don’t
I’ll take my lot
Just start the show and
Cement your feet and take the jump
They say call off the last call
We’ve only had a sup”

Cathy McGuinness/ Sarah Corcoran / Pamela Connolly / Rachel Lyons

Up until this year my most troubling medical complaint was an annual debilitating occurrence that played havoc with the linings of my lungs, my nasal passages and the equilibrium of my very brain. A solution has , so far, evaded medical science but I have battled on….

“Are you talking about your annual ‘man-flu’ ?” my Soulmate asks.

It’s a scientific mystery !

“It’s man-flu !”

Opinion is divided.

Anyway, last week this mysterious illness reappeared, and no amount of paracetamol, Lemsip, hot water bottles, or Benylin Day & Night, really made any difference, it would just run its course. I was on the verge of feeling very, very sorry for myself when I realised, with a thrill, that it was actually a delight to have something so ordinary to concern myself with.

Before being struck down by this annual debilitating occurrence that played havoc with the linings of my lungs, my nasal passages and the equilibrium of my very brain, the thing that I hadn’t been thinking about was my upcoming scans. Genuinely, I hadn’t given them a thought.

My Soulmate had been thinking about them.

“Aren’t you worried about your scans ?”

“Nope.”

“Seriously ? Not at all ?”

No the scans are easy peasy, they just say ‘Lie there and don’t move’, and I’m very good at lying there and not moving. It’s the results I’d be concerned about.

She laughed. I love it when she laughs. The world and everything in it is fine when she laughs. And fortunately, whenever I’m not driving her mad, I make her laugh a lot.

Yes, yes,, I know what you’re thinking, ‘Paul, you are a living saint, how could you possibly drive your Soulmate , or anyone else for that matter, mad ?’. Well ,, let me tell you.

No, not the time I made our whole garden a bee sanctuary, which wasn’t just an excuse not to mow it all summer… not really.

Nor the time I started the waterfight as soon as we’d arrived home from Robyn’s First Holy Communion and we were all wearing our ‘good clothes’.

Nor the times we were ever so slightly late for mass in Threemilehouse…as long as you’re there before he finishes the consecration it still counts…

Nor even the times I’d chat about the Old Testament when the kids were studying for their Communion, and I’d explain that they weren’t literal, that they were forms of stories that held a message that people would remember in retelling them , before they were written down…and Elliott told his teacher that “My Dad says they’re all fairy tales”, and my Soulmate got reprimanded by the teacher when she went to collect him that evening and I laughed and told Elliott how proud of him I was….

No, the one time I actually feared for my life, was when my Soulmate and I lived in Clane and her sister Ger had come home that Christmas to get married and lots of cousins had used our house as a staging post before they headed back to England on the ferry.

It was in that glorious period between Christmas and New Year when most people weren’t working and everything happened in glow of inebriation, gentle indigestion, and general joviality. Eileen’s cousin Michelle, her boyfriend Mark, his brother and Michelle’s friend landed in Collegewood Park for the night before heading back to that London the next day.

My Soulmate was one of the few people who was working. She was a stylist in Peter Mark on Grafton St. and what to me was that glorious period between Christmas and New Year when most people weren’t working and everything happened in glow of inebriation, gentle indigestion, and general joviality, was a very busy period for her. I told her, as I cooked dinner, chatted with our guests, and drank wine, that I’d drive her into work the next morning.

I repeated the offer later , when we were down in Manzor’s until closing time, and again before she went to bed , while Mark and I sat up chatting and drinking the last few beers.

The next morning my Soulmate came downstairs to find Mark and I drinking whiskey.

“You said you’d leave me to work !”

I will !

She left the house to walk to the bus stop in the village. I went out after her and tried to reverse our car, and confused as to why it wouldn’t reverse, got out to discover that Mark’s car was parked behind it…which was probably just as well. I also discovered that it had been snowing over night.

And then it struck me, what better way to apologise to my Soulmate and express my love than to roll a giant snowball to the bus stop.

So I did.

The first giant snowball was a metre in diameter when it broke in two when I rolled it off the footpath to cross the main road outside the estate. But the second one made it the whole way to the bus stop and was a good two metres across at that point. My Soulmate was already on the bus, and she looked around when she saw and heard other people laughing and pointing at the gallany knight with the giant snowball outside on the pavement. I could see her shrink in her seat and pull her hat down over her eyes.

I simply thought she hadn’t seen me and started to throw snowballs at the window she was sitting at to get her attention.

And then she turned looked directly at me, and held my gaze as the bus started up and moved away.

I shivered.

I went home and thought , ‘How can I possibly make up for this ?’, and the answer immediately came to me, build 7 snowmen in our garden to greet her when she comes home.

So I did, with Mark’s help.

She hid her joy remarkably well when she came home to the only house in the estate with seven snowmen, but I could tell she was impressed. How? She didn’t murder me there and then.

She’s learning an ‘ology’ at the moment. It’s health related and she needed to practice on me.

What do I have to do ?

“Lie there and don’t move”.

We make a great team, I’m very good at lying there and not moving.

Toodles,

Paul

P.S. Came across this quote today from Robert Frost “In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on”

Author: paul

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