Although these short missives have brought mild titillation to you my readers ..it has caused mild tremours of fear among my fictional portrayal of my life and family …all the events retold are loosely groined or inspired by real life events and actual people ..to use the contemporary phrase constructed reality … the connection between the images and text is equally bedded in truth …..with this in mind let me tell you about my brother ……..
Our uncle elizabeth and auntie morgan played host to our family each summer in the idyll of their farm in the southwest of Ireland …while fuel prices soared and armoured cars delivered money to the banks …..ourselves and our cousins dressed in the trophies of my uncles participation in ww2 …my aunts contribution were mounds of purple hair discarded by her mobile hairdresser … the german helmet and desert shorts were most popular ….despite my fathers protest at our attraction to siding with the enemy we found ourselves very triumphant as baddies … although none of us choose to be adolf….we seemed unconvinced by the allied expeditionary force ….
Although we grew up during the 1970s our domestic lives were free of the political turmoil that visited other parts of the island at that time …..however my mother, she carried a derringer in her bag ….. every now and again we would be asked to get her hand bag …and as if she dreaded but anticipated an eventual day …she would bring out a small pistol …much like bette davis in a film noir with smoke issuing from her nostrils …backlit by our standard lamp… she would lean forward in her armchair pointing the nozzle at us and say calmly “I brought you into this world and i can take you out !!!” The pistol was on her person most of the time ….fathers hunting rifle was underlock and key …. with that in mind we as children kept tennis rackets under our beds just in case everyrhing got out of hand …Continue reading
Vanity and myself were buying trousers …The label said “slim fit”…vanity grabbed them “Perfect!!”…with uncertainty in tow I could hear “lean not slim lean “..vanity grabbed my cash and this morning in the traffic I sat in a rather uncomfortable pair of a burgundy slim fit breeches…
Without prejudice my parents were never interested in blame …or fault …a disembodied voice would shout from the pantry ….have they finished yet ?…as our fracas progressed she would gently reach to the cupboard for some iodine a wad of cottonwool , a needle and thread …then put on the kettle , light her pipe …(she did have one) ….and at some point we would queque up …she” Now that will need stitches hold still ! ” Father would supply copious quantities of water.. as we cried weeped and eventually laughed then they sent us willingly to bed we cleverly had forgotten the cause of our unrest and slept the sleep of spartan warriors exhausted and spent. Our guardians smiled glibly at the mastery of their juvenile husbandry
Many of these confessions have a tendancy to cast a less than savoury light on the role of our mother in our juvenile route to” bonne sante” and ” joie du vie “….please do not frown at the author for this offence …my fathers flights of fancy were never believed because his education let him down …no one ever takes a cambridge scholar seriously especially seven year olds .. mother however as she shovelled codliver down your throat ..would stare you in the face and say “of course i went out with george harrison before i met your father ….she possibly did ….as we shed our youthful skins she found her summers less full and began visiting” Ronda” near Seville …we noted a lightness about her when she returned each autumn we even once heard the name ..”Paco ” being hummed …. in recent years I sat her down and confronted her much like miss havisham I stirred a happy but closed part of her past…. “maurice you must understand Spain does things to you that you could never imagine …and as for paco …he had very long arms and hair .”…with a tear in her eye she reached to a drawer and let a photograph fall to the floor …she in hushed tones “the family must never know !” ….In a high pitched voice I screeched ” Jesus mother noone would believe me if i told them …Of course mother had an affair with orangutan named PACO during her summers in Seville….” ….i made her promise not to share any more of her special moments ..”.a bloody ape ! I ask you mother please!!!!……”..