going and the Morse Code dit dit dit dot. I hear mandolins, guitars, Spanish bagpipes, the drums of Africa, boatmen wailing on the Nile. I see sailors on watch sipping mugs of hot cocoa. I see cathedrals, sky- scrapers, cottages. I see Bedouins in the Sahara and the French Foreign Legion,cowboys on the American prairie.I see goats skipping along the rocky coast of Greece where the shepherds are blind because they mar- ried their mothers by mistake. I see people chatting in cafés, sipping wine, strolling on boulevards and avenues. I see night women in door- ways, monks chanting vespers, and here is the great boom of Big Ben, This is the BBC Overseas Service and here is the news. Mrs. Purcell says, Leave that on, Frankie, so we’ll know the state of the world. After the news there is the American Armed Forces Network and it’s lovely to hear the American voices easy and cool and here is the music, oh, man, the music of Duke Ellington himself telling me take the A train to where Billie Holiday sings only to me, I can’t give you anything but love, baby. That’s the only thing I’ve plenty of, baby. Oh, Billie, Billie, I want to be in America with you and all that music, where no one has bad teeth, people leave food on their plates, every family has a lavatory, and everyone lives happily ever after. And Mrs. Purcell says, Do you know what, Frankie? What, Mrs. Purcell? That Shakespeare is that good he must have been an Irishman. The rent man is losing his patience. He tells Mam, Four weeks behind you are, missus. That’s one pound two shillings. This has to stop for I have to go back to the office and report to Sir Vincent Nash that the McCourts are a month behind.Where am I then, missus? Out on my arse jobless and a mother to support that’s ninety-two and a daily com- municant in the Franciscan church.The rent man collects the rents,mis- sus, or he loses the job. I’ll be back next week and if you don’t have the money,  one  pound  eight  shillings  and  sixpence  total,  ’tis  out  on  the pavement you’ll be with the skies dripping on your furniture. Mam comes back up to Italy and sits by the fire wondering where in God’s name she’ll get the money for a week’s rent never mind the arrears. 275