November 8th 2015

This weekend Patience commemorates the first anniversary of the passing of her grandfather Gabriel. I knew him well. The only man who had perfected the art of asking or answering a question, being critical or laudatory without ever saying a word. He did it all with his eyes. There are some characters who are colourful and are castigated for it and others who are very colourful and are admired for it. He was of the latter breed.

He loved life, lived it his way and had no enemies as a result. That takes a bit of doing. He was the only member of the Moran clan that always acknowledged me despite my being a pariah to the rest of the family.

I never did, and still don’t, blame the others who regard me as a very bad man for having stolen the heart of the youngest lady of the house, Patience. The fact that she was, and of course still is, forty years my junior in age might be a factor! Universal acceptance of ‘Que Cera Cera’ is on a very distant horizon.

At any rate the last two days were spent by her family and herself having the usual ritual of Mass and the attendant traditional remembrances. I decided to piss off to the forest and do something useful. I went to the wood at Newcastle to forage. You see the Prodigal is the official caretaker of the forest and that includes many onerous duties. Principal among these is the ensuring that no little girl guide might fall across a fallen tree trunk and scrape her angelic knees. So I am therefore entrusted with the identifying of fallen limbs and ensuring their quick elimination less they cause any distress or injury to other limbs.

I take my duties very seriously. So today I rambled off to the forest to ensure that no offending fallen trees or limbs of same were likely to pose a potential threat to any unsuspecting visitor. Imagine my horror when after just a short stroll I came across a very large oak tree in the horizontal position.

I immediately brandished my trusty Husqvarna chainsaw and set to work. Two hours later I had rendered the stout oak limbs harmless and supine in very short lengths that might fit into a stove or range. Good deed done for today.

Since my shed at home is stuffed with potentially injurious firewood I asked herself how we might dispose of the most recent arboreal cache. She said her mother was short and without further ado I agreed to offset the deficit in vertical challenge of my mother in law, who incidentally is twenty years my junior which is really not her fault. So tomorrow we must go down to the woods again and complete the task in hand. This too shall pass!