Pencil marks

The pencil mark graduations on the tall press in the kitchen remind me that lots of stuff happens here, where I regularly call for a family meeting and they smile and sit and make up stuff which they know, they so know I like to hear.  A table and a sixth unoccupied chair pending an immaculate conception. The kitchen is where it’s at. Food, talk, homework, occasional parties, tears and reconciliation.  Shit starts outside but finishes here.

I noticed him recently. Incongruous in his peaked cap on a mountain bike at mid-night. Cycling up the second hill in that old man stiff and leant forward on the handlebars way. Incongruous in that his modern mountain bike had an old man carrier on it, with a brolly sticking out. Strange that it was late and a garish flashing rear red light kept him safe. The rain beat down and the wind was in his face, but he remained stoic and static in his bent forward, not standing up on the pedals hill-climbing way. An old man with an old hat going home to his kitchen full of pencil marks.

I sit and read blogs or write posts and for a moment it’s significant, is real and meaningful and connected. And it is too. The old man doesn’t look like a blogger, doesn’t have that snazzy back pack for his laptop, no, he don’t do blogs. He reads old copy of Con Houlihan in  De Valera’s Evening Press.

And day follows night and the graduations elongate. Our nest brittles and frays, they need more and must look elsewhere.

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11 responses to “Pencil marks

  1. awh awh awh…….sniff sniff……

  2. The fuck, I’m over here on my own and nere a comment, and you’ve got thousands, fucking thousands, and I’m pouring my fucking bleeding heart out, and nothing, fucking nothing.

    But yeah, feel my aging existential pain, awh awh awh. And fucking sniffles too.

  3. And I saw the old cunt on the new bike too.

  4. This is exactly what I’m talking about.

    This is just so well written, so full of depth and layers we (Okay, I) )can’t understand, it’s almost intimidating.

    Hence a comment is almost like admitting we are lesser beings.

    Either way, that is lovely, just lovely.

  5. Hey Xbox4nappyrash,

    Going to change the thing around . This shouldn’t be intimidating or difficult to understand. I’ve become a little self-indulgent and there’s going to be changes. Thanks for the kind words and the constructive feedback.

  6. Oh Jesus no!

    I wasn’t complaining at all, it was meant to be complimentary.
    I love reading things as they are.

    See, this is what happens when I speak…!

  7. Don’t you dare change a thing.We’ll just have to cope somehow.

    Two posts in as many days does signify an increase in the operational tempo though.I was spoiled for choice like the time my Pennywell nanna brought me back my ‘ration’ (small Dairy Milk) after getting the messages.One Thursday she brought me two.

    I thought all my birthdays had come at once.

    Thanks for that.

  8. Woohoo Dev,

    We still have those small chocolate bars. Luvely.
    Her indoors was bornt near Pennywell, Flood Street. So there’s a thing to talk about next Feb.

  9. You’re codding.Ask her if she knew the Hickeys?

    My other nan is still living up in Garryowen and it turns out that Bock and I both went to St.Michaels ( a year or twenty apart like)

  10. No, she said. But also, that she was never left out…….. I reckon she does, know them, but we ‘ll have to work on her.

  11. I’ve been indisposed, but I’m planning on a routine. In fact that might well be my routine, just planning one. Or if I go mad I’ll get back to commenting around the place, and this fine place would be right up there.

    Anyway, don’t go changing your routine if it’s all the same to you, thanks.

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