As every woman of a certain age will tell you, the ‘Gantry’
is the place in the house where all old towels, handles of brushes and assorted
instruments of housewifely
endeavour are stored. The good instruments are to the forefront of
a press and the spare parts gather in a motely assembly up on the top or to the
rear. It is inevitable that when the
door to this essential munitions store is opened by the uninitiated that an
assault of implements attacks the stranger.
Thus it was in Dickie Beirne’s Emporium last night.
Dickies is a great house for music, the GAA and rugby. Soccer is a less regarded sport in the pecking order of the patrons but as with every rule, there’s always an exception.
It doesn’t take much for the craíc to lift off in Dickies
but in this instance it was the winning goal by Jordan Muldoon in the Ireland
versus Wales under 18’s win of the John Coughlan Memorial Cup.
Young Muldoon is the grandson of two of the much loved patrons
of Dickies and when I enquired about the match, I was merely prompting about
the young fella and leaving the way open to the other patrons to ‘the news’
that the parish had a minor claim to fame by association.
The exultant Granny exclaimed that not only had Jordan
played the match but he had scored the one and only winning goal. In the excitement of congratulations and
salutations to the young hero, a glass fell to the floor just as a singer had
burst into song accompanied by The Lady of The House on her keyboard.
With a nod to Dickie I hit for the kitchen to secure a floor
brush and as Dickie fought off the household implements that tumbled out of the
press I hastily returned to the lounge.
As the music flowed, the singer never missed a beat or a
word as he rose and paced in time to my sweeping. The excuse for a floor brush was laid against
the wall and I resorted to dust pan and brush guided by every patron in the
lounge.
Dickie had the cheek to admonish my progress and the
composure of his lady wife was severely tested.
Torn by the chagrin of the exposure of the useless implement and her
post as lead instrumentalist, her duty to the singer prevailed. As the singer reached the climax of the final
verse I joined the dance with the offending brush as my partner.
As I curtseyed
to the singer Dickie; oblivious to the danger, yet again made a pithy remark….I
whipped round with hands on hips and roundly demanded an immediate raise to the
house keeping budget. The motion was unanimously
and loudly carried by the assembly and the strains of Olé, Olé, Olé hung in the
ether.
