They would do your soul good. Mine anyway. Mostly these simple things. The matter of course that last year taught us to no longer be taken for granted.
was back in my hometown of Cork for a few days last week, mainly because I had to blow up the cobwebs of dusty manuscripts in the city’s treasury, an archive, but also to make up for lost time.
Especially old friends. The streets of the city itself are an old acquaintance.
From the bend and sweeping sweep of Patrick Street to the solid, calming stretch of South Mall to the maze of narrow, bustling tributaries that each branch off.
Covid had separated us for too long.
Then a meeting with an old school friend who lived here and there but is now back in his hometown. We have been listening to each other since the Múinteoir fortunately sat us next to each other in second grade.
That wasn’t yesterday or the day before yesterday. Around 1964, actually, when everything was black and white and Hard Day’s Night the song from Radio Luxembourg pattered through the airwaves.
It wasn’t uncommon for us not to see each other for a long time.
Life often got in their way, especially in the busy areas where mortgages needed their monthly fix and children needed food and shelter.
But we never lost touch and now both have the time for other things, even if Covid was an unwelcome spoiler and intruder in this past eternity.
Too many shared memories for us to wither or wither the friendship. So much to reminisce, if nothing else.
Stories that not only have to be repeated, but also call for generous exaggeration over a few drinks in the traditional way.
We can get serious at times and count our blessings regularly. We understood that while we made a lot of our own happiness, it was on our side when it mattered most.
In other words, we are grateful for so much and for so many.
Not many things in your life last for half a century. Such a friendship must not only be kept going, but also lovingly nurtured and nurtured.
So we met for a bite and a couple of pints on Cornmarket Street, under the cover of a huge parasol that protected us from rain that was believed to fall elsewhere.
Then, in a tradition as old as time itself, we tried the delicacies of other inns. Also stays dry. Most of time.
It was the first time that we had toasted in almost two years. At any other time, it would have been just another good night. During this time of Covid it was something very special.
Taking things for granted has gone out of style. Old friends especially. We owe this not least to the pandemic.
The name is Seymour, “dazzling” Jane Seymour
JANE SEYMOUR filmed a few hundred meters away from our house last week, with a closed gaelscoil that serves as a Garda station.
She starred in the television crime drama Harry Wild, and while there was some giggle on site, filming in Bray is nothing new.
Next up is Lenny Abrahamson’s conversation with friends, some of which are turned a few hundred meters in the other direction.
After a long day of shooting, the former Bond girl turned up at Roger Moore’s 007 to pose, smile and dazzle for a local photographer. She might as well have let herself be swept away in her waiting black limousine.
Passers-by were accordingly impressed. Love the show already.