and lying and there’s a hot place in hell for the likes of me, say a decade of the rosary and ask God’s forgiveness for you’re dancing at the gates of hell itself, child. I’m seven, eight, nine going on ten and still Dad has no work. He drinks his tea in the morning, signs for the dole at the Labour Exchange, reads the papers at the Carnegie Library, goes for his long walks far into the country. If he gets a job at the Limerick Cement Company or Rank’s Flour Mills he loses it in the third week. He loses it because he goes to the pubs on the third Friday of the job, drinks all his wages and misses the half day of work on Saturday morning. Mam says, Why can’t he be like the other men from the lanes of Limerick? They’re home before the Angelus rings at six o’clock, they hand  over  their  wages,  change  their  shirts,  have  their  tea,  get  a  few shillings from the wife and they’re off to the pub for a pint or two. Mam tells Bridey Hannon that Dad can’t be like that and won’t be like that. She says he’s a right bloody fool the way he goes to pubs and stands pints to other men while his own children are home with their bellies stuck to their backbones for the want of a decent dinner. He’ll brag to the world he did his bit for Ireland when it was neither popu- lar nor profitable, that he’ll gladly die for Ireland when the call comes, that he regrets he has only one life to give for his poor misfortunate country and if anyone disagrees they’re invited to step outside and set- tle this for once and for all. Oh, no, says Mam, they won’t disagree and they won’t step outside, that bunch of tinkers and knackers and begrudgers that hang around the pubs.They tell him he’s a grand man, even if he’s from the North, and ’twould be an honor to accept a pint from such a patriot. Mam tells Bridey, I don’t know under God what I’m going to do. The dole is nineteen shillings and sixpence a week, the rent is six and six, and that leaves thirteen shillings to feed and clothe five people and keep us warm in the winter. Bridey drags on her Woodbine, drinks her tea and declares that God is good. Mam says she’s sure God is good for someone somewhere but He hasn’t been seen lately in the lanes of Limerick. Bridey laughs. Oh,Angela, you could go to hell for that, and Mam says, Aren’t I there already, Bridey? 145