e in his
sock one thing laughing at the other and his son that got all those
prizes for whatever he won them in the intermediate imagine climbing
over the railings if anybody saw him that knew us I wonder he didnt tear
a big hole in his grand funeral trousers as if the one nature gave wasnt
enough for anybody hawking him down into the dirty old kitchen now is he
right in his head I ask pity it wasnt washing day my old pair of drawers
might have been hanging up too on the line on exhibition for all hed
ever care with the ironmould mark the stupid old bundle burned on them
he might think was something else and she never even rendered down the
fat I told her and now shes going such as she was on account of her
paralysed husband getting worse theres always something wrong with them
disease or they have to go under an operation or if its not that its
drink and he beats her Ill have to hunt around again for someone every
day I get up theres some new thing on sweet God sweet God well when Im
stretched out dead in my grave I suppose 111 have some peace I want to
get up a minute if Im let wait O Jesus wait yes that thing has come on
me yes now wouldnt that afflict you of course all the poking and rooting
and ploughing he had up in me now what am I to do Friday Saturday Sunday
wouldnt that pester the soul out of a body unless he likes it some men
do God knows theres always something wrong with us 5 days every 3 or 4
weeks usual monthly auction isnt it simply sickening that night it came
on me like that the one and only time we were in a box that Michael Gunn
gave him to see Mrs Kendal and her husband at the Gaiety something he
did about insurance for him in Drimmies I was fit to be tied though I
wouldnt give in with that gentleman of fashion staring down at me with
his glasses and him the other side of me talking about Spinoza and his
soul thats dead I suppose millions of years ago I smiled the best I
could all in a swamp leaning forward as if I was interested having to
sit it out then to the last tag I wont forget that wife of Scarli in
a hurry supposed to be a fast play about adultery that idiot in the
gallery hissing the woman adulteress he shouted I suppose he went and
had a woman in the next lane running round all the back ways after
to make up for it I wish he had what I had then hed boo I bet the cat
itself is better off than us have we too much blood up in us or what O
patience above its pouring out of me like the sea anyho