The Written Word Group

    Bondage, I suppose they would call it now. It was called tying up a girl you liked, back then. I liked her. I suppose I loved her. She was beautiful and had a plain sister. Penny was from Wales. She and the sister were spending their holidays in Dublin. Sitting on the steps of her Aunts Donnycarney council house. Looking bored. She was a breath-taking vision of loveliness. Waiting for something, anything, to happen. Me, Connery and Mad Harry, peering over Harry ’s garden hedge, where stunned by this amazing development. In our sunshine school holidays of endless nothing. We never went anywhere.   The Irish family holiday had not yet been invented. The Irish Dad’s spent their two weeks in the pub and the betting shop. Holiday time was no different from any other time, for the mums. Just the same shite, in the kitchen, winter or summer. For summer entertainment we took the long walk to Dollymount Strand. Down past all the big houses. Where we would, like a locust...

  "Morning Cecil" "Morning Max" "Where is everyone?" "They went straight to the cafe,” replied Cecil. “James was hungry”  "Well" said Max laughing. "Nothing new there" "You missed a treat about 10 minutes ago" said Cecil playfully. "Guess who has a boyfriend?" "Ms Shiny Shoes?" replied Max. "No," said Cecil. "Have another guess" "Don't tell me, fag ash Lil" "No" "I give up" said Max "Who is it?" "Lady in red" "No! Really?"  "Yes. Really" "How? I mean, what did you see?" "It was just after the others had left.  She came out of her door, looking lovely as always in her red coat and she was  hand in hand with a very dapper looking fellow.  All smiles she was" "Isn't that fantastic Cecil?" "It certainly is. After all this time on her own”  "Well that has made my day....

  A glass filling slowly with cold clean tap water. Bananas and green apples on a kitchen tray. Freshly baked bread cooling beside a gas cooker. A cat slinking by the window. The lazy summer sound of buzzing bees.             “Jed! Jed!” The voice came battering through the dreamy haze.  “Jed! Wake the fuck up. There's work to be done.”   Judy was upset. My daydreams pissing on her yet again. “Jed, do you want to die. Do you want that?" Thought, yep, every fucking day. Said, "No." She was cradling her favourite rifle. A scoped .22 Rimfire. Plastic bottle on a string around her neck. It suppressed the sound. Made killing a lot safer. Hunting to, but we didn't do much of that now. We lived a smelly life in a Soho wine cellar filled with rodents. Good eating if needed. Needed, now that we were all out of dogs. I had my usual layer of shitty coats on, but it was still cold. Londinium, no power, no heat, No...