Home sweet home

Dads yellow tractor towing a load of turf

It's turf season at home. Joe and Dace have had their day in the Bog, Tony brought home a load yesterday, next week its Seamus's and my turn. I cant wait -I love the Bog, something about the emptyness, the birds, the bogcotton and the sky, it just touches you.

I was driving home yesterday evening for an old school friends funeral. Not the happiest reason to be driving West, but it got me and Sheila two hours in O Loughlins pub talking and catching up on old times after a trip to the funeral parlour. Our friend committed suicide and none of us can understand it. His poor family are in shock, their grief so big you could drive a train through their hearts.

It seems to me at moments like that that we have lost everything sweet and innocent from childhood and only the crashing reality of life as an adult remains. There is something very comforting about going home on days like that and finding yourself back in the pub of your teenage years laughing at the stupid things we did and said and the plonkers we went out with! We talked about Patrick and his brother, they were the giggliest pair in national school, always in trouble! There was the infamous sixth class photo that captured Michael making a crazy face at our lethal headmaster, did he get into trouble over that!!! I still have the photo and it makes me laugh to this day.I told Sheila I'm advancing into old age at speed wanting to spend all my time in the garden, all I need now is a blue rinse and about 10 more cats. She made me laugh talking about her father coming out in her when she deals with her kids. Sometimes I wish I was eight again- Sometimes I hate being the grown-up.