November 10th 2015

This morning I travelled to Athlone to meet the supreme wizard of financial excuses in Athlone. Madame Shields was as efficient as ever and expressed her chagrin at the distress I evinced in my present dilemma. Her evaluation of events took about fifteen seconds and she wanted to discuss the absolute deprivation I was enduring by being denied my very modest expectations as delineated in my list of items I can no longer afford. She agreed that this was a perspective she hadn’t come across previously and asked my permission to use this avenue of genuine sacrifice which surely must be a widespread phenomenon.

After this we reverted to the expected discourse on the Economy, the Government in general, the issue of rent allowance, the electoral prospects of Connie Geraghty in Longford and the experience of the Camino Santiago. I explained to her that the Camino could not be classified as a holiday but rather a religious pilgrimage of the utmost deprivation, the secondary purpose of which was to save money as you could survive in rural Spain on half the cost of staying at home. We concluded our business and she confirmed she would advise me of any developments from those nasty solicitors.

In the meantime Patience was off shopping.

There’s a new retail outlet in Athlone called T K Maxx. I rambled round with herself and was horrified at the price tags on all items. She informed me that the merchandise on display was exclusively ‘designer’ at a reduced price. I’m not surprised that the items on display didn’t sell in the designer shops. Forty euros for a designer shirt that you wouldn’t wear ‘Hunting the Wren’. The last three shirts I purchased were in the second-hand shop in Ballymahon which cost the grand total of six euros and I got a euro off. I repeated to Patience my long held view that you should buy your ‘designer’ clothes in the second hand shops and your food in Marks and Spencers. We duly visited Marks and Sparks and bought two duck legs (I always wonder if they’re from the same duck) and a brown loaf. Five euros for either breakfast, lunch or dinner. Perfect.

We travelled home and I retired to the forest to collect the timber promised to my mother-in-law. Thirteen barrow loads of the finest oak I wheeled into position to warm the cockles of the mother-in-law’s heart over the Christmas season. This expression apparently has its genesis in the fact that cockle shells are heart-shaped.  Now there’s real charity for ya.