Lately

I've met a couple of fantastic women lately.  The first was at the Donabate Farmer's Market where we have a stall.  Her name is Olive (a name close to my heart).  Basically she stopped at my stand with her son, his wife and her two granddaughters.  Her son and his family were home from Tokyo and his wife very definitely didn't approve of her children eating the cakes that I had for sale.  Which, by the way, was fine by me.  I've eaten Japanese sweet things and well, they're nothing like what we'd eat in Ireland.  Each to their own, right?   The family wandered off but Olive stayed chatting to me.  She told me about her daughter-in-law wouldn't let her buy the kids any sweets ("they're only little for so short a time, sure it wouldn't do them any harm").  She also told me how she'd been hit numerous times by cyclists ("Either it's them or me but someones not looking where they're going") and because of that she may not be able to remember me the next time she sees me so that I had better know she's batty rather than a "rude aul' bitch".  I told her she was fine as I was so constantly fecking frazzled that I couldn't remember anyone's names.  To the extent that I call everyone in my own house 'love'.  Anyway, she'd always be the 'playboy nana' to me.  "What?" she says.  "Playboy nana" I says.  I then went on to explain that her fabulous tracksuit had a playboy bunny on the breast.  She cackled and cackled and said that she thought it was  'feckin chicken, well, at least that's what it looks like to me. But what would I know  Either it's the bangs to the head or I'm looking at it sideways'.  I really liked the playboy Nana.  She also told me that her son and his wife had been on a roller coaster when the earthquake hit a couple of weeks ago.  In Disney Paris.  They thought the coaster was a lot wilder than it looked when they saw it in action from the ground!!

Then, on Thursday, after a frantic never to be repeated trip through town to the removal of my friend's father (Bert) I met a fabulous woman called Una Cunningham.  We just got chatting, as you do, whilst waiting outside the Church for the family.  Her daughter was head girl when I was in secondary school in Rathmines and she knew Ruth (my friend) well from when Ruth sang with the Young Dublin Singers with said daughter.  Her daughter had big, BIG, hair and so did her mates, it was the 80's after all, and the music teacher had to separate her from her two mates because the combined amount of BIG hair between the three of them meant that no one could see what was going on behind them.

She told me about how some young one had gone into the side of her car and how the Insurance Company want to write it off  She doesn't want to write it off as the car was one she loved and she doesn't want to get into debt for a car at her age.  We grumbled about Insurance Companies and then age came up.  She asked how old I thought she was   . . .  argh . . . I said "la.....ate sixties????" and she laughed.  She's 72 and doesn't look even close to it.  She had the most beautiful skin, has the  most beautiful skin  Amazing eyes too and a great body.  She's seventysoddingtwo!!!!  I'm nowhere near as fresh looking and I'm only thirtybloodyeight.  She put it down to never smoking, a couple of drinks, loads of dancing when she younger and the fact that her husband was dead!!  "No-one to argue with y'see?!".  There's only her and the dog in the house and it's not like he'd be giving her a hard time and griping over the telly or whatever.  She drives down to see her daughters and still hangs out with her best mate.  The best mate who told her, when she was 62, that there was no reason why she couldn't learn to drive.  Turns out there was no reason and she is still motoring and looking fabulous today.