Out beyond Ballinacurra I climb orchard walls for apples. If theres a
dog I move on because I dont have Paddy Clohessys way of talking to
them. Farmers come at me but theyre always slow in their rubber boots
and even if they jump on a bicycle to chase me I jump over walls where
they cant take a bike.
The Abbot knows where I got the apples. If you grow up in the
lanes of Limerick youre bound to rob the odd orchard sooner or later.
Even if you hate apples you have to rob orchards or your pals will say
youre a sissy.
I always offer The Abbot an apple but he wont eat it because of the
scarcity of teeth in his head. He has five left and he wont risk leaving
them in an apple.If I cut the apple into slices he still wont eat it because
thats not the proper way to eat an apple.Thats what he says and if I say,
You slice bread before you eat it, dont you? he says, Apples is apples
and bread is bread.
Thats how you talk when youre dropped on your head.
Michael comes again with warm tea in a milk bottle and two cuts
of fried bread. I tell him I dont need it anymore.Tell Mam Im taking
care of myself and I dont need her tea and fried bread, thank you very
much. Michael is delighted when I give him an apple and I tell him
come every second day and he can have more.That stops him from ask-
ing me to go back to Laman Griffins and Im glad it stops his tears.
Theres a market down in Irishtown where the farmers come on
Saturdays with their vegetables, hens, eggs, butter. If Im there early
theyll give me a few pennies for helping unload their carts or motor
cars.At the end of the day theyll give me vegetables they cant sell, any-
thing crushed, bruised or rotten in parts. One farmers wife always gives
me cracked eggs and tells me, Fry them eggs tomorrow when you come
back from Mass in a state of grace for if you ate them eggs with a sin on
your sowl theyll stick in your gullet, so they will.
Shes a farmers wife and thats how they talk.
Im not much better than a beggar now myself the way I stand at
the doors of fish and chip shops when theyre closing in hopes they
might have burnt chips left over or bits of fish floating around in the
grease. If theyre in a hurry the shop owners will give me the chips and
a sheet of paper for wrapping.
The paper I like is the News of the World. Its banned in Ireland but
people sneak it in from England for the shocking pictures of girls in
swimming suits that are almost not there.Then there are stories of peo-
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