"Like…yaknow..kinda..like…eh….sorta…it`ll be shite…and you don`t have to…like it`s grand if you don`t want to…23rd of July…just with a few of us…like a few pints just…nothing big…ya probably don`t want to but willya come? ”

I saw him down the hall as I stumbled out of the ladies. Today is not a day of coordination. It was a stumble. It was a stumble perfect for day when you suddenly discover you`ve been wearing two tampons all day and wondering why you`ve such an unmerciful headache. I deliberated. It was now or never. I stood my ground, louring in the dark of the doorway for him to enter.
He neared, I waited and then spun round.

(When Mother hen phones on a Sunday night and she leaves me her message, it is with her “there-was-an-accident.-I-had-a-pain-in-my-knee-and-I-went-to-see-Doctor-Burke.
It`s SuperAids-and-the-blessed-Council-found-out-that-you-got-one-too-many-
with-a-pitchfork….” voice. Every time she gets me. That part of you that lurches in askance, “OH fupping Jesus! they`re gone! Lord, have mercy on them all”…before the “but apart from that, everything here is grand. Father Doyle got food poisoning so we had the priest from Mohill, so there was no sermon , I was back at home with a cup of tea in my hand at five to twelve. Grand day, great drying ” assurance that all is fine.)

I went with this style the-end-is-nigh whisper my Mother is oh-so-good at.


Part of my plan was to do it in the most discrete way possible. So, with all the enthusiasm of a 22 year old dog with a watermelon-size tumour growing out of his arse, I invited him to a “drinks thang.” (oh you, you unsuspecting handsome thing you!)

My bludgeoning of his language during my lengthy disquisition of how ordinary and dull this event would be, made him frown, and the frown lasted a good twenty seconds. I thought to panic. Then..with the…"please come", a benevolent smile appeared. This lasted long enough for me to consider would I ever be able to kiss something with such rancidly coloured teeth.
He nodded that he'd be happy to attend.

I plodded off, with the swiftness of a catamaran dying to break into a little skip, smiling lummox-like to myself.

He said he`ll come

He said he`d come-DAA
He said he`d come-DAA!