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The Third String.

Tales from a Dagda Bard

3/9/2018 1 Comment

Hospitable Habits

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The Sunday sun beat and bludgeoned down upon the island. Its heat and fires remarkable for their intensity. Remarkable in that everyone was remarking about it where ever we walked. Snatches of conversation sticking to my consciousness as we navigated the crowd.

“Sure isn’t it a great bit of warmth? Won’t be needing a sun holiday this year.”

“I hope those young folk are wearing sunblock or at least using aftercare. Too much U.V. and its skin cancer, I’m tellin you.”

“Had a mate return from Spain just the other day and they are spittin that I have a better tan from staying home than they got over there. Ha!”

“This hose ban is killing my garden and the flowers. I’m out with the watering can twice a day doing the rounds, and then they go power hosing the streets and that big feckin cross in the park for yer man’s visit? Nonsense.”


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