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Tuesday, 1 February 2011

About death

The Girl said yesterday: What happens if you're dead and it's your birthday?

My dad in conversation with his brother: 'Ould Jimmy'd dead. And he's dead. Is that right? She'd dead too? Ah shite. Oh and you know something else? Mr O'Reilly? Dead.' This jolly conversation continued for some time.


Anonymous said...

Great. I recognise that conversation - sounds like one my dad had many times too. He also used to retell a story (frequently) about a corpse who sat up in his coffin at a wake. Very likely.

Anonymous said...

On the same subject - here's a poem you might like/ or not.


It doesn’t take much to summon you

uncles, aunts and you father.

Just a tune on the radio – a jig

and you’re singing and dancing in my kitchen

using pots and pans to shatter silence

clicking up your heels against the shallow grave

swaying to the rhythms and the beats of the drums

tippling whiskey and feeling the trickle

and flavour of peat, alive on your tongue

telling old stories of wakes and Will O’ the Wisp

roving the ancient bog-lands

until the light disappears

and the music ends.

Anne Kenny