Hello Carol, Happy New Year! I hope you and yours are keeping well.
As you can see, I've survived the festive season. I've eaten too much, drank too much (not too, too much) and not taken sufficient exercise, but I feel good. Siobhan and Margaret returned to base, so all four of us were there for an extended week.
I cooked Christmas dinner. The frozen "three-bird-roast" took 3 hours to cook. That seems like a lot of work but actually it really wasn't; it was just a case of following the timetable I'd written out for myself, doing stuff and doing particular things when the alarm on my phone went off. There was plenty of time to do other things as well.
As a family, we seem to have moved away from large expensive presents towards lots of small and sometimes silly things. There seems no point at all in exchanging vouchers. I do give Siobhan and Margaret (small) quantities of cash but that's different to me. There are lots of sweeties and biscuits as well! And chocolates!
I spent a fair amount of time over the holiday scanning photos and documents from the laundry box I told you about. Remember my brother James, the little boy I showed you some photos of? I've found another photo of him. I know I'm biased, and that the emotional associations will sway my judgement as well, but he was a handsome boy.
One of the advantages of scanning things is that it makes it possible to zoom in on details and that can provide additional information: things like, two photos with the same background were probably taken at the same time. I've been constructing time-lines for the various characters in the story (My mother Margaret, her husband Alastair, James and my sister Catherine). Little details are coming to light and the story is taking on much more depth. The outline I told you was mostly correct, but even in a couple of months there is now so much more: some of it would suit a Boys' Own adventure, perhaps written by John Buchan, and some would suit a romance in a women's magazine, maybe by Barbara Cartland but honestly I've never read any of her work - maybe I should. I hope I can do the story, and my relatives justice.
Talking of stories, here's a sort-of "meta story". Cycling home from the surgery today, I stopped to exchange greetings with an acquaintence, Michael O'Conner. I am cycling home and Michael is walking home from tending to some horses he looks after. He walks the road twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, rain or shine. If I am cycling I stop and talk with him, if I am driving, heading in the right direction and especially if it is raining, I will give him a lift. Somehow, our meeting like this seems particularly Irish, or Scottish or "country".
Michael will be a little younger than me, probably in his 50's. He is separated or divorced from a wife and has (at least) a daughter and one or two grandchildren. I know where he lives and where he is from (Castlemagner). His untidy hair is blonde which has turned to white and he's soft spoken. He wears heavy boots and a dirty black jacket. His face is weather-beaten and ruddy with a strawberry nose and hooded eyes. I would guess that he is a heavy drinker, quite possibly an alcoholic. I think he would be a handful if he was drunk. Honestly, if you saw him, I think you would avoid him (and in general, you might be right). Despite any of that, he is considered "reliable" and he looks after expensive horses. Once, when it was convenient for us both, he took be to see a mare who was in foal.
Michael and I are not friends but we are friendly to one another. We are an ill-matched pair. We would not meet socially but we meet on the road and exchange greetings and stories. I think our meetings serve some purpose but I do not know what it is: one for psychologists, sociologists and philosophers.
Must go. Got to have some sort of lunch before I collect my daughters from Cork.
Keep well!
Tom
