Where have swans gone and some flesh on some mythological bones....

Dear Editor,

Please allow me to diffuse the notion which I am led to understand is common among readers of the Drogheda Independent. I am a quite simple, minded according to de missus, individual. I do not as many imagine wander the corridors of Floyd Manor candelabra in hand in my long woolen dressing gown, lined with scarlet silk, reciting the great works of Wordsworth and Coleridge. I am not a character in an Edgar Allan Poe story.

My tastes like my pleasures are simple. There are few things I enjoy more than resting my weary bones at the southernmost aspect of the Grange, which forms part of my esteemed Manor, quail egg sandwiches in hand washed down with a glass or ten of Don Perignon 1955, laid down in honour of my birth.

With the early morning sun gently warming my noble countenance, feet resting on the prone figure of my assistant under footman I would instruct my butler to enumerate the number of swans on the river. Last year he counted seven and twenty. This year none, zero not a feather.

A simple question “Where have all the swans gone”? Has the County Council impounded them and sent them to Dundalk? Is the answer much simpler. Have they ended up on someone’s kitchen table?

While I am in a questioning mode allow me to make a further inquiry. Some years ago a survey was made of the area known locally as the Cup and Saucer. This survey was to discover if the Bard Amergin was interred within the Motte. Have we the results of this survey. Can we put some flesh on his mythological bones?

Just asking like. Gerry Floyd