I wasn’t a bad oul jiver in me day Spitty, but I never did get the hang of the Twist.
The wife and me were talking about old sayings last night and how some of them don’t make sense, like the two I’ve often quoted before “ Look before you leap” and “He who hesitates is lost, completely contradicting each other.
Anyway we eventually got around to dogs, they seem to feature a lot in old proverbs, “Let sleeping dogs lie”. “Lie down with dogs and you get up with fleas” “Every dog has his day” etc..
So it was with dogs on my mind that I trotted off to bed last night, and just before I nodded off I had that old chestnut in me head “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks”. actually you can.
My dog is 9 now and I’ve just taught him how to read the Sun newspaper (ya gotta start at the very bottom ), took him all of five minutes to learn, and judging by the sour puss on him he was not impressed, though he did like the girls in it, he’s a bit of a randy old bird dog.
Might try the Times on him tomorrow, then the Racing Chronicle, you see the whole idea is to have him read out the race cards to me and then give me a few tips, well he soon got bored and I took him for a walk. We had just got to the top of the road when he sat down and then got up and faced the direction for home and started to pull on the lead, very unlike him I have to say. he usually loves his walks, maybe he sensed the pub was closed and he wouldn’t be getting his saucer of Guinness.
Then I woke up and after breakfast I did what an old friend of mine used to do, look up the racing cards and see could he find any horses name to coincide with his last dream.
I found one running in the 2 pm at Wexford, one of my favourite tracks, it was called “Walk me home” that had to be the one so I but a fiver on to win, it romped home at 11/1, God’s truth, you can believe that or not, I don’t mind. but I’m now 55 quid richer than I was last night, weird eh?
We got our little fella from the dogs home, he was on death row, a very sad place to visit is the dogs home.
I didn’t know they were still burning supposed witches up to 1746, I thought that all finished around the end of the 1600’s.
I remember me granny and some of her spooky cronies whispering old stories and the name “Darkey Kelly” once came up when I was a lad, when I asked who she was I was told sharply “Nobody” and then whisked off to bed.
I eventually found out for meself, here’s the gist of it in a small nutshell.
“Accused of witchcraft and satanist rituals, a brothel owner, Darkey Kelly was partially hanged and burnt at the stake, on Baggot Street in Dublin's city centre.
For generations, Darkey Kelly was known in Dublin’s folk memory as the woman who was burned at the stake for witchcraft after she accused the Sheriff of Dublin, Luttrell, of fathering her baby. However, research has revealed that she could have been Ireland’s first serial killer and the story of witchcraft is completely false. Darkey Kelly was executed for the murder of at least five men. Their bodies were found in a brothel she owned, in Dublin. It had been thought that she was executed for witchcraft, in 1746, but research has shown that she was executed in public, on January 7, 1761. She was partially hanged and then publicly burnt alive on Baggot Street, in Dublin city centre” Source, Irish Central.
In 1742 Handel’s Messiah was first performed in Fishamble Street Dublin, the same very short street Darkey Kelly had her brothel, probably with five dead brothel customers lying underneath the cellar below the music hall. hallelujah!!!
In 1947 I was kidnapped by a mentally disturbed woman who had lost a child at childbirth, I was just under two years old and was missing for two days (true), I was found bawling me head off in a hallway by a passer by, much to my poor mother’s relief, guess where?— Fishamble Street!
There’s a fine bar there now called Darkey Kelly's with plenty of traditional music, I’ve yet to visit it, but I will if I survive and things come right again.
Yes indeed they are Spitty, thank God.
Poor old Darkey was the victim of a political cover up after giving birth to the Sheriff of Dublins child, he was a regular at her brothel, and she had the audacity to ask for financial support, just shows you it doesn’t matter if your right or wrong, the system always wins, must not embarrass the dignitaries of the day.
There was I sitting watching the racing on TV today, enjoying a cold can of draught Guinness and smoking a small cigar, too good to last I thought.
How true that was, the missus had taken the petrol mower out of the shed to cut the grass.
Now before you all start tut-tutting thinking shame on him for letting his poor wife cut the grass, the simple fact is that she won’t let me near HER lawn mower, and I don’t have to be told twice to avoid things I know nothing about.
Anyway after a few minutes she comes in and says the mower won’t start, I don’t know why she’s telling me this, I might as well be looking for an ink spot in a barrel of tar at midnight as to having any knowledge on how the combustable engine works, I’m completely in the dark.
She continued pulling the starting string on the thing. all the while becoming more frustrated and I had to tell her to stop, fearing the string would break or she would have a heart attack. “Get the model number and look up Briggs & Stratton petrol mowers on google” says I, and she did, that was a mistake on my part for next came the barrage of questions “‘What’s an oil filter Jem?” was the first one, oh God here we go!
In the end and for my own sanity I was compelled to look the whole process up meself, after reading the trouble shooting part, I took out the filter (a yellow spongy thing) which was manky dirty, washed and dried it in the sun, put it back in again, drained and changed the oil which she had never drained out since she got the machine, she just kept topping it up, cleaned the spark plug, and then told her to try it again, bingo!, it spluttered into life and away she went merrily ploughing through the side garden.
When all this was finished I went back inside but the racing was over and me beer was flat, oh the things we do for peace.