Very recently, I was walking about the house with Sarah in a sort of papoose thing called a Baby Bjorn. What a shite name. My tired brain can only associate it with ABBA, and that awkward looking ginger cunt with a wee beard who played the piano or something.
So I was walking about, and kissing her wee head, talking shite to her like I normally do. She was falling asleep, so to keep myself entertained I got a book off the shelf, a guide to Ireland that Tina got a few years ago. And I began reading.
I went to the section on Northern Ireland, my homeland, and started reading at random. I was so emotionally affected by reading about Lough Neagh and The Marble Arch caves that I started to gasp in that pre-crying way that sensitive five year-old girls do when the teacher shouts at them. What a truly beautiful and unique country. I truly love Ulster, Belfast, Irlande du Nord.
People are kind, funny, smart and generous. I can't wait to bring Sarah there in May. It'll be fucking class. I romantise the place wildly with everyone I meet, and tell them lies about how good it is. But those lies I believe with all my heart.
In my mind, the air seems clearer and colder. It's definitely windier than here. My dad once claimed that it was colder in Belfast than in Montreal at wintertime, and wouldn't hear otherwise.
-Da, it's fuckin' minus 30 sometimes, come on
-No
But he was right. It is colder.
I am going to climb the Mournes, go to pubs, pet animals at my granny's farm, go to Bangor with Christopher and swim in the sea, all with my wee baba. Tina won't let her swim in the sea though, it's too cold.
But I will. And I'll emerge from the waves and impress the shite out of my infant daughter.
I am a hero.
With a daddy like you it will take years before she finds a man that matches your physical and mental prowess. Her only choice is to journey to Carryduff and open a third Winemark. Only men with a frighteningly good sense of humour and a marked physical prowess will go to this third Winemark. A piece of heaven just off the amazing Carryduff roundabout.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Moj. I only hope I can prepare her adequately for this. Historic Carryduff needs her, needs this Winemark.
ReplyDeleteTraining will begin as soon as she can walk.
Your blog is a masterpiece, by the way. I read it, close my eyes and I can smell your world.
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ReplyDeleteYeah! Its quite a calling in life, to be the proprietor of a Winemark in Carryduff. I think your blog is also a masterpiece. I laugh at it and it makes me think that your life is going to be the template for living for my new Super Race. I will endeavour to keep the blogs going until I marry a wicked Orthodox Jewish woman who prohibits all technology.
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