Good. Now here’s what I want to tell you. Lean over here so I can whisper in your ear.What I want to tell you is, Never smoke another man’s pipe. Halvey goes off to England with Rose and I have to stay on the mes- senger bike all through the winter. It’s a bitter winter, ice everywhere, and I never know when the bike will go out from under me and send me flying into the street or onto the pavement, magazines and papers scattered. Shops complain to Mr. McCaffrey that The Irish Times is com- ing in decorated with bits of ice and dog shit and he mutters to us that’s the way that paper should be delivered, Protestant rag that it is. Every day after my deliveries I take The Irish Times home and read it to see where the danger is. Mam says it’s a good thing Dad isn’t here. He’d say, Is this what the men of Ireland fought and died for that my own  son  is  sitting  there  at  the  kitchen  table  reading  the  freemason paper? There are letters to the editor from people all over Ireland claiming they heard the first cuckoo of the year and you can read between the lines that people are calling each other liars. There are reports about Protestant weddings and pictures and the women always look lovelier than the ones we know in the lanes.You can see Protestant women have perfect teeth although Halvey’s Rose had lovely teeth. I keep reading The Irish Times and wondering if it’s an occasion of sin though I don’t care. As long as Theresa Carmody is in heaven not coughing I don’t go to confession anymore. I read The Irish Times and TheTimes of London because that tells me what the King is up to every day and what Elizabeth and Margaret are doing. I read English women’s magazines for all the food articles and the answers to women’s questions. Peter and Eamon put on English accents and pretend they’re reading from English women’s magazines. Peter says, Dear Miss Hope, I’m going out with a fellow from Ire- land named McCaffrey and he has his hands all over me and his thing pushing against my belly button and I’m demented not knowing what to do. I remain, yours anxiously, Miss Lulu Smith,Yorkshire. Eamon says, Dear Lulu, If this McCaffrey is that tall that he’s push- ing his yoke against your belly button I suggest you find a smaller man who will slip it between your thighs. Surely you can find a decent short man in Yorkshire. 352