Communion magazine leads to lunchtime rant
WEDNESDAY: TODAY we explained the concept of Lent to the young lad. He sat at the kitchen table, listening attentively, while we informed him that he is expected to sacrifice something he loves dearly for a full forty days and forty nights.
Eventually, when the enormity of the task became lucid in his three-and-a-half-year-old mind, he suggested not watching Thomas the Tank Engine for that specified period of time. We told him that it was a pretty lame choice, as he overcame his obsession with Reverend Awdry’s concocted railway adventures a little over a year ago. I added that giving up watching Krypto Dog might set him a sterner test. He climbed down from the table and shuffled off into the sitting room, where he tends to do most of his deep thinking, and mulling, these days.
A few minutes later he arrived into the toy room. I was busily cleaning up the scattered playthings (what goes around does come around in this life, even if it takes thirty years to materialise). ‘I have decided to give up Buttons,’ he announced, and received rapturous applause from the good woman and myself. The younger lad, who was swaying to the sound of the Mamma Mia soundtrack in his rocker spat out his dummy, taken aback by his bravery. With the promise of a Buttons Easter Egg waiting for him on Easter Sunday, we now look forward to finding out if he has the willpower to succeed.
Thursday: Browsing through the shelves of the newsagent’s store, as I like to do at lunchtimes, I am interrupted by a woman bearing a scowl that could cool a bull in mating season. ‘It’s an outrage,’ she booms, and I’m not really sure if she’s talking to me or the entire collection of customers currently on the premises. But for now she appears to be looking at me, so I daren’t look away. Even though I would like to.
‘A fashion magazine for the Holy Communion kids, I never saw the likes,’ she grunts. With that she storms off towards the back of the store, presumably for a sit down and to pull herself together.
There on the shelf sits a magazine with four little girls beaming out at me in their stylish Communion dresses. Channel Four’s My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding springs to mind – where, in a recent episode, a dressmaker was commissioned to make a young Traveller girl the Communion dress of her dreams. Complete with fairy lights. I decide against telling the flustered lady about the show. It might just push her over the edge, and I haven’t got the time to be responsible for that.
Friday: I find the new government very entertaining so far. The eclectic mix of minds that will now govern us - some amusingly adorned in unorthodox attire - has injected the ‘ whoomph factor’ back into politics. Just like beating England has sexed up people’s interest in cricket, and allegedly dating Rhianna may direct Colin Farrell back on the road to the box office.
There is also something about our new group of politicians that reminds me of the movie Police Academy 3; Citizens on Patrol, where the green recruits bumble their ways into town - especially having seen Margaret Mitchell drive her car down the steps of government buildings.
I enjoyed Enda Kenny’s speech on becoming Taoiseach. It was romantic, poetic, inspirational and more importantly just what we needed to hear, after being grunted at from the heights for far too long. Time will tell if he and his government have the actions to back up his words.
Saturday: The young lad and I are waiting in the queue to pay for our goods in the supermarket. Ahead of us a fellow shopper is relaying a tale about a feral cat that has been infiltrating its way into her home, to the cashier. ‘If it comes back again,’ she blusters, ‘I’m going to wring its neck.’ The young lad turns to me and says, ‘She could just ring the cat’s mother.’ True son, I tell him, and find it difficult to argue with his logic.
Sunday: The Great Outdoors lured us out to engage with nature today. The weed-capped vegetable patch was given a thorough shake up following its winter rest, and the young lad got busy planting more parsnips, which won last year’s ‘ best turned out crop’ title. Being huge admirers of any food that comes seasoned with fresh herbs, I put down some chives, coriander, parsley and basil.
The gardening experts, well those that write the instructions on the packet, tell us to begin harvesting in September. If self-sufficiency is the path forward, then we have taken our baby steps. As for the five crops, the race to the dining table has begun. My money is on the chives.
Disclaimer: Buttons have been consumed since this article was submitted for publication.
I enjoyed Enda Kenny’s speech on becoming Taoiseach. It was romantic, poetic, inspirational and just what we needed to hear