Friday, January 20, 2012

stomping on graves and young lovers running amok!

Ah, the day started - bad...let me mountain top, good air, wonderful cotton sheets, fantastic black out curtains and insulation par excellance can make me wake in any other way...the pain...the jiggers, yep that all did it for me and there was nothing to do about it but rise up and face it.
Rising actually works the bones and let you pretend that, well are you in pain?
probably but concentration on other matters is pretty much needed to get one foot ahead of the other.
Two paracetamol, a peek from the curtains to see if the priest is up.
well, you do dont you, alone on the mountain waking in the darkness of a new day.
"Is the priest up", you ask yourself and peek around the creases of the curtains.  He wasnt.
Disappointment too to see Dawn hadnt arrived and even more so when said dawn was a complete non-event, well on this here mountain anyway, and then i decided i was facing the wrong way, so i am angled in the wrong side of the mountain, on this mountain anyway.
Twin, eat your heart out.
I am out.
Camera, set.
I wait...for the Dawn, outside...the angle was wrong so i wander off, towards the priest house no less.
I happened to look over into his wee garden (you would, wouldn't you), well i did, and there i saw a nice tender sight.
A man, grey haired, what was left of it, slightly stooped and slightly podgy, and the latter was where the likeness didnt look like the priest in the straw hat of yesterday.
it didnt look like him, this guy was all tender like.
the guy yesterday, well not tender, not in that moment, but a staw hat and a four wheeled automobile might do the difference, i guess.
this morning, the man, possibly the priest, i shall ask or investigate, maybe a bit more peeking and peeping is required.
Sorry, this man was placing out new feeders for the wee birds, tenderly, like.
really slowly and deliberately, and watching and tending ever so tenderly, with his tontured skull and greyhair.
I left him.
i waited for my Dawn, which came and went, unspectacularly so back to the cell i went.
I was jaded...already.
the electricity shut down as i rose in pain, so no nice warm cup of tea but that didnt bother me (did you see the daily newspapers?), and so that was a toss in the cup of tea ocean in comparison, friend.
I legged out, after a peek (lots of peeking going on) down to the very holy place..Glendalough, the place where the original Kev hung out, big time.
I supped a frothy cappacino ate two slices of gluten free bread with jam on and made an utter disaster of talking to the natives.
Well, don't really know if they were natives, but i didn't do well.  then the woman of the partnershiop asked me did i know who owned the hotel.
Well, was it THAT important at that hour in the morning.  Anyway, i answered politely that i did not know. (less cared).  she went off to the toilet.
I was glad they paid their bill and left.
I got on with it.
up there to the graveyard and the famous round tower.
Oh jaz it was a windy howly day innit.
Oh gud the knees hurt, the wrist hurt and i was entangled in camera straps and woolly scarf and felt just as felt, a mess.
but that said, i was a blissfully happy mess.
wonderful up there.
I had a better go at it in talking to most defo a native emptying a wheelbarrow of gravel in all the bald places (i wondered why bother at this time of year).  Money for old rope.
he was pleasant.
the hat was hard to keep on and it was bitterly cold.  You know the type of coldness that has you laughing "oh jaz, its so COLD!" and you whistle and giggle and wonder do you come down off this graveyard or do you stick it out - for your sins, of which there apparently many.
I decide on the latter but rearranged the entanglement of garments.
the camera on a tussock, my stick on the horizontal, the knees clamped together in a determined manner i face against the wind so that i can retain the eyeballs for a while.
i make a rearrangement that isnt, I guess this, pretty nor attractive.
i felt what i felt, unattractive and olde.
but i was happy and unattractive and old, very.
so much so i giggled again and said "oh my God, i look such a disaster, hey, you..." and i beckon a man running amok on the grave stones, with a flaxen haired beauty running laughing behind, as they do.
"You, will you take a picture of me in this ridiculous outfit?"  ah, sure he would.
he was a nice young lover.
All the way from Holland he was for the weekend and he had the same camera as mine.
Back in Holland, he had forgotten to take it with him.
Right then thats my two and two, no dyscalculia needed for that one, and excuses were not needed.
we had a dirty weekend running amok on the gravestones.
but he was a nice young lover.
so was his beloved and loved.
they laughed.  "OH god, don't i look ridiculous."
and we agreed and he snapped.
we exchanged pleasantries after that, once i discovered he had run here for a dirty weekend, but he may not have, thats my dirty mind for you - at touching sixty you see.  It happens.
I told him i had run here away from humanity and mouthed the letters of this country, F..U..C..K..E..D.  and with that i told him i had run cos it was so frightening i preferred to be in the graveyard than hear a person or open a newspaper or fight with the local district nurse and near on be reported to Dr. O'Reilly for fighting with the home help, twin's home help, the home help that my young Ana bit...yes, it was never a happy relationship.
the lovers left and i decided the same was just about necessary for one image more was one image too much, the camera nearly became free borne, and after that i felt, "you have to leave."
off with me to the bowl of soup recommended by the nun, up there on the side of the mountain, like.
gud it was a grand soup and soda bread, utterly wonderful and i was grateful to the nun up there.
delicious wasnt in it.  i took a snap of an ad for a drink, that slapped on the wall.  that was for my american friends, and the waiter didnt seem too pleased.
I found a man's Visa card under my chair, but i dont think that was the nun's idea of a miracle happening so i gave it to a woman waitress.  i trusted her.  I hope.
then what did i do, ah back to the cell i went.
and who greeted me?  not the nun nor the priest, but the robin, yes, dancing amongst the wood litter by the picket gate, right in front of my cell.
oh that was wonderful, it tickled my heart.
i immediately got it some gluten free cornflakes and scattered them near by and sat down again in a balmy breeze, all poetic like and waited.
the bloody happy snapper got some wonderful shots of a perky little robin red breast.
then i went to talk to the nun.
she was a dapper woman all in red too, a wrap on this distinquished woman very non-nun like indeed and she looked good.
good listener too.
did i get solutions, older sister rang...and i felt that was a bit of a miracle alright, for she was asking how i that was really loverly and hopefully a turning of the tide towards a better understanding.
i chatted with the nun, well, i chatted and she listened.
up back to the cell, lit the fire and put on a wee nightlight.
drew over the blackout curtains and set to to computer housekeeping and feeling wonderfully inside, and bloody painful outside, the body is failing me rapidly.
but wonderfully so.
the nun said i sounded as if i had a zeist for life and was fun loving.
Yes, i said.  I wasnt too sure what came after it, so i was making the most of it, i tell her.
also tell her that i think there may be a god, but also think there may not so i am keeping my options open.
then yep i told her, that, if he wanted me he would have me, if he didnt well, so be it.
on a far lighter note which had her in stitches i recounted what i felt on the male species.
"Is that the sort of thing you put on your blog?" she asked after.
oh, no i havent put that on, so i am now.
Men, we were talking about men, the abusing kind, like clerical abusing kind and i had a solution to the men situation.
"Sister," i said with flourish, "I would bank their sperm and give em bow and arrows and ship the lot of them off to siberia to shoot mammoth and let us women get on with it.
she hooted and was animated.
we had a wonderful understanding.
i am now in front of the log and spitting fire.

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