It goes without saying that we've met some interesting people over the years and most have been during the last eighteen years in Ireland...
From Tad, who models himself on Oscar Wilde...down to the hair parted in the middle and the long flowing cloak...to Potty Penny, who informed me she'd fought in the Vietnam War, quite forgetting she'd previously divulged her age...she'd have been flying helicopters' when she was three had that been true...
There was the girl we'd only met with twice, when she came to buy eggs, who turned up one winters night...barefoot and no coat...fat grubby baby tucked under her arm.
Poor Lou, who had her baby in the back of her partners car in the electrical wholesalers car-park and named the child Electra...well, you would I suppose.
Orange and Pi who turned up one afternoon with two great horses...two dogs, one of which was called George...and a flat cart. They camped down by the river for several months...Orange became the attraction for all the men in the street because she used to skinny dip in the river...they had a wonderful tent lined with rugs and heated by a turf stove.
And there was Himself's friend Bruce, who was once taken to hospital by ambulance and insisted on bringing a carrier bag full of cans of lager with him...I was making dandelion wine one day when he called and he took a bottle away with him...said it was delicious...he drank it on the way home, wobbling about on his bike.
Little P, who would hitch-hike into town...but sometimes he preferred to walk and so he'd turn his back if you pulled up beside him...never spoke...just turned towards the hedge.
The Jehovah Witnesses were lovely...they were honestly. They used to call when we had many rescue dogs and they'd bring cans of food and bags of biscuits...we reached an agreement that they wouldn't talk to me about their beliefs...gardening, the animals etc, were fine as topics of conversation but not their religion.
And then there was Beryl. Beryl called here this afternoon and I pretended to be out, but Himself went out to have a chat...Beryl once asked me if I would ever make a cot quilt for her neighbours new granddaughter and I said I would and she said not to worry about the fabric...she'd bring me some. She brought an old tablecloth.
Old, as in worn right through in some places and badly marked with rust stains from age it wasn't nice at all...she hadn't even ironed it...I struggled with it but added a few scraps of my own and it looked alright. Handed the completed quilt over to her and she tossed it into the back of her car without even looking at it!
Beryl was sorry to hear you're ill, said Himself...was she sorry enough to remember she hasn't yet paid me for making that dratted cot quilt I asked...thought not.
Made it home ok thanks all. Another day another saga. 
50yr old smoker just quit have some questions
