I’d read Eagle and Victor comics in bed.
Sometimes I’d curl under the blanket and pretend that I was snug in the gun turret of a Lancaster bomber somewhere over the German countryside.
I was ace on that gun. I took out Messerschmitt’s.
I wonder if any boys fought or died in Iraq, Afghanistan after being stirred into action from reading comics and dreaming in blanket gun turrets?
I hate almost everything about this particular household task. Not almost anything as a matter of fact, but absolutely everything.
I hate the way that the mop flops about on the floor. It is too limp to scrub bits of dirt that are stuck to the floor and doesn’t lift the light bits of dirt that the brush couldn’t lift.
I hate the way that you clean the floor and it gets dirty again immediately, not through being messy but because you have just gone outside to the bin and it has been raining outside.
I hate the feel of it in my hand.
I hate the way when you mop in the gloom you can’t see the dirt and then when it is bright you can see the dirt you missed.
This is the nice side of the walk home from the post office, ponies and views over Galway Bay towards Co Clare. The Silver Strand is down at the end of the road and Rusheen Bay has some interesting birds, if only I had binoculars to see what the birds are from a distance.
The bad side, the opposite way from this view is traffic zooming past at breakneck speed on the road to Barna meaning you have to concentrate more on vehicles than the beauty. I would walk this way more often if the footpath didn’t hug the road so closely.