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 it’s 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 won’t 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 he’s 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 he’s worn out climbing up and down to go to the lavatory in the backyard.He calls down,Bring the table,the chair,I’m coming down, and we have to clear off the table and pull it to the wall. He’s fed up,he’s finished with the climbing,he’s going to use his mother’s 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,Woman’s work,Angela, woman’s 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 he’s told, thank you. 281