Granny Lost The Plot

My very first Podcast!

I used to share a flat with some gals in Marlborough Road which is near the RTE studios in Dublin.

The Gals and I had just settled down in out little beds. The doorbell rang. It was nearly midnight!

In a disgruntled, bleary eyed state, I got up to answer the door. Derek Davis stood outside wearing nothing but his trousers and a cheeky grin.

He thrust a ginormous shirt in my direction - “would I mind sewing a button on the shirt?”

I looked up at him in bewilderment.

“Where would I find a needle in this house at this hour of the night?”

“Ach Yearra Lass, I thought being a girl and that stuff that you would have a needle.”

“I’m not that kind of girl” I answered frostily.

Then I saw the funny side and started to giggle nervously at the sight of this giant, half naked man and his enormous shirt. The giggle turned into hysterical laughter. The girls had joined me by then and we laughed, holding our tummies - rolling around on the hall floor.

Derek backed away slowly as if we were royalty.

Then he turned and ran up Marlborough Road with the great shirt billowing in the wind.

Derek. I’m sorry if we hurt your feelings but life is just too darn short to be sowing buttons on a shirt.

Once upon a couch,

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The End

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If I were to fill in the blanks, I could tell stories that would make your hair curl.

Strange inexplicable overnight promotions of people with no qualifications or talents suited to the ‘Big Jobs’ in R.T.E.

Some of these people are still alive. They would sue me from here to Kingdom Come. Not the sort of people would settle for half the lolly!

We would have to sell our wee cottage plus a kidney each to pay damages.

There would be nothing left for the Offspring and her brood. Please don’t tempt me, Grannymar. K8 - you know what’s at stake here.

Mum’s the word.

I’ve been tagged by Our K8 again. I must comply otherwise she may cut off access to the grandchildren.

I am to write eight things about myself.

1.

From the age of four my ambition was to join a circus. I loved clowns! After the performance I would hang around the tent for hours. Nobody at home missed me. Being the youngest of eight me Ma wouldn’t have noticed my absence. Anyway I hung from the high up benches and swung from arm to arm like a mad monkey. Nobody noticed. I did the splits with ease as, unlike the elder sisters, me Da could afford to send me to ballet. Still, they were unimpressed.

2.

My ambition changed at the age of 11ish. We got the telly and I was determined to be in on the act. “I Love Lucy” was the favourite and “Wanderly Wagon”. Well, I succeeded on the second ambition and joined RTE. It was amazingly like working in a circus. Lots of clowns and music and non-stop parties getting gave.

3.

At twenty, I wanted more than anything to write a book - a reeel good book. Apart from getting a piece published in the Woman’s Own, and winning a short story competition on radio, the book never saw daylight. At least I tried.

4.

I’m neurotic. I jump on the bandwaggon of every alternatve in the health shop in search of the elixir of eternal youth. My latest is a pot of Manuka Honey. At €13 for a small pot, it has to be good.

5.

Soon I’ll be sixty, but in my head I’m a vulnerable sixteen.

6.

I come from a weird family. I have a brother who was a priest in the Missions. He married an Italian divorcee with a kid. Me Mam cracked up with the shame.

7.

I couldn’t live without a dog in the house, but I draw the line at Boxers and Alsations. Once in France I got bitten in the bum by an Alsation. I’ve been howling at the moon and biting the postman ever since. I have a fear of water but not of beer.

8.

I would like to have been born into an ordinary family but I think it might have been boring. Apart from one boring sister who was a school teacher with a bun, the rest of us were a little crazy. In a nice way though.

I have a lovely family of my own now. Himself is stable and reliable but the Offspring and her Offspring are a little weird. The Granddaughter thinks she’s a dog and the Daughter has set up home with TAT. I hope he is a figment of her imagination but how would that explain the Grandkids? Maybe she’s androgynous?

Our K8 has written a post.

Reading between the lines, I get the idea the she feels that instead of her controlling events, she is being controlled by a force outside herself.

I have shaken off my recent apathy because it is a mother’s duty to guide our young.

Maybe life is a stage and we are all playing a part.

We can let Big Brother write the script and that saves us the hassle of having to think for ourselves.

The Great Dictator (in the guise of our politicians) or maybe even our extended family can move us about like pawns in a game of chess.

But what if we wake up one morning and decide

“I don’t really like being in this soap opera. I’m old enough to write my own script and when Big Brother says jump, I shall tell him to bugger off.

I will rock the boat”.