Monday, November 19, 2007

Oliver Plunkett is alive and well!


When I was a child, we were brought to visit the head of Saint Oliver Plunkett in a church in Drogheda, encased in a glass case, burned black and looking remarkably like my uncle Sean. This was after Irish dancing, long before Riverdance and usually before a visit to a smelling damp antique shop with a granny long on detail and very short on patience.


A famous saying of our mothers was, I kid you not, "I'll hang, draw and qaurter yez!" a direct reference to the martyrs down fall in Tyburn in England in the year, 1681, July 1st. Bless her she could be obtuse at times.


A part of the display was also the door of the prison in which he was held, with a small opening at the bottom where food was delivered, and if you knelt down on ten year old freezing knees you could never see inside no matter what angle your eyes chose.


I know now that there is a touch of Oliver Plunkett in us all. None more than at this minute as I type this waiting for the cat to come in and it is 2.45am in the morning here in Ireland. Its not that I dont trust who she is out with, nor do I care if she is taking drugs in a laneway with some skanger cats. Its that there are four kittens in a box in the sitting room, four weeks old and shortly going to look for feeding.


I never realised that the comforts of double glazing would be far out weighed by the lack of a cat flap! The dog has that look that says "dont ask!"

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