Arcadians looking at Pasta, our cat

Whatever people say I am that’s what I’m not.

“Its our lives,
Its nothing, don’t touch me,
Don’t call me,
I can’t wake up.
Can’t help you,
Someone else will,
If you just sit still.”
 – O’Hagan
My Granda met Erwin Schrodinger once. Granda didn’t know who Schrodinger was, and I’m quite sure that Schrodinger didn’t know who my Granda was. Schrodinger had moved to Ireland in 1938 and happened to find himself in Monaghan for the opening of the General Hospital at the invitation of DeValera, Taoiseach at the time. Granda was born in Monaghan, had never travelled too far, so was already there, but wouldn’t have been if Dev had anything to do with it, but that’s a story for another day.

Anyway , it was in McKenna’s on Dublin St., Home to Bona Fides, that they met. Granda was already at the bar , a pint of stout settling, nursing a Powers, and staring intently at a shoebox on the counter tied with string, when Schrodinger entered and sat at the bar a few seats away. He had doubled the number of patrons. Schrodinger ordered a Powers and after a few minutes of silence, said “Hello” to Granda.

“Pardon ?” Granda said, his eyes not leaving the shoebox.

“Sorry to disturb you, I simply said ‘Hello’.”

“Oh, yes, sorry, Hello to you too.” Granda replied. “Didn’t mean to be rude, just….” His voice trailed off.

Schrodinger moved a few seats closer along the bar. “ I have to ask, what’s in the box ?”.

“A cat, hopefully.”

“Hopefully ?”

“Yes. There was a cat in there earlier, but it’s very quiet now.” Granda still hadn’t lifted his eyes from the box.
Schrodinger looked at the box. It was large enough for a cat and it was tied with string , so if there was a cat within , it could still be there. And then he noticed that there were no holes in the box.

“There are no holes in the box.” He said.

“I know” Granda replied.

“But if there was a cat in there, shouldn’t you have put holes in the box ?”

“Yes, but then she would have known that I’d bought her a cat. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise will it be now ?” Schrodinger asked.

“I know. I really hope it’s OK.”

“Why don’t you open it to see ?”

“Because it might no longer be a cat.”

“What else would it be ?”

“A dead cat.”

“ I see” Schrodinger said. “ So if you don’t open the box …it’s..alive ?”

“Exactly ! Thank God you said that. I thought I was going mad. Seamy ! Two more Powers there for me and my friend !” And he lifted the shoebox off the counter and placed it gently on the floor, then moved his stool closer to Schrodinger’s and they drank each other’s good health…several times.

Schrodinger woke up hours later on the train back to Dublin. He had a fuzzy recollection of meeting a man with a box, but a clear definition of quantum mechanics.

I always remember Granny having cats…lots of cats.

I have been living in Schrodinger’s box this week. I’ve been existing in two separate states. I have been madly in love, and just mad with someone. I have been full of confidence in myself and at the same time it occurred to me that I’ve had three books published and that two of the publishers have subsequently gone out of business. I have been so incredibly impressed with a young Monaghan business mover and shaker, RoxyPops, and in the same moment questioned what the heck I’ve been doing. I’ve run a half marathon and then thought I was dying of Covid/man flu. I know I should like craft beer, but I really, really don’t. I hate the news, and avidly follow the news. I am very happy and equally sad.

I am all of these things at the same time.

And why in the name of Jehovah wasn’t MicroDisney’s ‘Town to Town’ an international bestseller, and now…

And now all of that is out of my head and in yours.

Aaaaaaaah…I feel better now…or do I ?

Where’s that cat ?

Toodles ,


P.S. This should have been

Author: paul

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