the wood we burn from that collapsing shed leaves a sickening smell and
she worries the white maggots will escape and breed.
We work all day moving boxes and bags to the shed outside. Mam
opens all the windows to air the house and let out the smell of the hair
oil and the years of no air. She says its a relief to be able to see the floor
again and now we can sit down and have a nice cup of tea in peace, ease
and comfort, and wont it be lovely when the warm weather comes and
we might be able to have a garden and sit outside with our tea the way
the English do.
Laman Griffin comes home at six every night but Friday, has his
tea and goes to bed till next morning. Saturdays he goes to bed at one
in the afternoon and stays there till Monday morning. He pulls the
kitchen table over to the wall under the loft, climbs up on a chair, pulls
the chair up to the table, climbs up on the chair again, catches a leg of
the bed,pulls himself up.If hes too drunk on Fridays he makes me climb
up for his pillow and blankets and sleeps on the kitchen floor by the fire
or falls into bed with me and my brothers and snores and farts all night.
When we first moved in he complained over how he gave up his room
downstairs for the loft and hes worn out climbing up and down to go to
the lavatory in the backyard.He calls down,Bring the table,the chair,Im
coming down, and we have to clear off the table and pull it to the wall.
Hes fed up,hes finished with the climbing,hes going to use his mothers
lovely chamber pot.He lies in bed all day reading books from the library,
smoking Gold Flake cigarettes and throwing Mam a few shillings to send
one of us to the shop so that he can have scones with his tea or a nice bit
of ham and sliced tomato.Then he calls to Mam, Angela, this chamber
pot is full,and she drags chair and table to climb for the chamber pot,empty
it in the lavatory outside,rinse it and climb back to the loft.Her face gets
tight and she says,Is there anything else your lordship would like this day?
and he laughs,Womans work,Angela, womans work and free rent.
Laman throws down his library card from the loft and tells me get
him two books, one on angling, one on gardening. He writes a note to
the librarian to say his legs are killing him from digging holes for the
Electricity Supply Board and from now on Frank McCourt will be
getting his books. He knows the boy is only thirteen going on four-
teen and he knows the rules are strict about allowing children into the
adult part of the library but the boy will wash his hands and behave
himself and do what hes told, thank you.
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