It was nice to know that everything had been
sorted, well; the plan had legs, survival mode was initiated and ticking along
nicely. I now needed to sink myself
deeper into the local society so that I could find myself a decent job, not one
where I could earn a decent amount of money, but one where I could be paid an obscene
amount of money for doing nothing which would allow me to continue to write. I wasn’t considering becoming a social worker
so knew that I could probably find something that paid well and wasn’t too strenuous. I was looking forward to going on the building
sites for six weeks. The weather was
fine and I looked on it as getting myself fit and healthy. It was also the sort of work artist’s
love. You don’t have to think, the work
is usually straight forward and boring so you can free your mind to concentrate
on the important stuff.
I went for a wander around the town to make
sure I still knew where everywhere was and to see who I could bump in to. I remember calling in to see Buster and Gerry. Gerry was a sister of my old girlfriend Pat
and we were great friends. I wasn’t aware
of any connection that they had that might benefit me; I was purely calling in
to see them as friends. We were in the
kitchen, I was sitting at the dining table, Gerry was busying herself making the
tea on the work surface by the sink and Buster was stood standing by the door
smiling, as the pair of them were, like a lunatic who has just wet themselves and
was enjoying the warmth. I knew that something
strange was happening, I could sense it, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
There was a good reason I couldn’t put my
finger on it, for I had my elbow on it.
The dining table in their kitchen was salvaged from our house in
Belfast, not a bit of wonder I could sense something strange. Gerry had always been into crazy arts and
crafts projects and saw the table in our garage and asked if she could take it
and restore it. I really couldn’t
believe that I was sitting at the table I had eaten from for most of my childhood. It was crazy.
I moved on to meet another sister of Pat’s, Anne and her husband Davie. Before leaving Buster and Gerry they said that
if they ever replaced the dining table it would be stored in their garage and
would wait for me if I ever wanted it back.
Davie and Anne told me that they had a spare bedroom which I could have
if I wanted, once again no rent was wanted except perhaps a small donation toward
the bills and of course the food.
Once again it made me very sad to think that my
friends were offering me more help than my family were. In fact Anne and Davie had once sent me the
best birthday present I have ever received.
I had opened a birthday card from them and found a photograph. It was of a small restaurant, or pub, table
with a plant in a plant pot, a hair brush and a pint of Guinness. Even the crossword solvers amongst you would
not be able to work that one out, don’t worry; I couldn’t work it out
either. Northern Ireland is a very small
place and everyone will at some point know everyone else. Anne and Davie had known all about my search
for my biological family and Anne believed that she had gone to University with a sister of mine. Turned out that it was
actually a cousin and we did speak a number of times and she gave me a lot of
information about my family.
Having received the photograph in my birthday
card and thinking that it had been put in there as a mistake I telephoned Anne
and Davie to enquire if they had misplaced one of their weird photographs,
although I suppose if you compare it to most of the photographs of peoples lunch
that appear these days on Facebook it’s not that weird after all is said and
done. Well; we had discovered that my
father was the pharmacist in a small country town, my mother had a flower shop
and one of my brothers had a pub. Anne
and Davie had gone to the town, bought the potted plant in my mother’s flower
shop, the hair brush in my father chemist shop and were having lunch in my brother’s
pub, which is where they had taken the photograph. It could only have been better if they had
sent me a photograph of my mother, my father and my brother, but you would need
some excuse to get those.
I just couldn’t believe the effort they had
gone to to get this one simple photograph, it really was amazing. And yes, how daft was I sat sitting there
looking at a photograph of a hair brush, a potted plant and a pint of Guinness?
It would be like something you might expect
the artist Tracey Emin to submit to the Turner Prize competition. But that’s the calibre of the people I knew
and associated with, so it was no surprise to hear Anne tell me that she had
continued with her enquiries, concerning my biological family, and she had now
discovered that I had a brother living in Warrenpoint. It’s tradition in Warrenpoint, in fact
probably all over Northern Ireland, although probably apart from the great metropolis
of Belfast, to say hello to every person you meet, whether you know them or not. To think that I had been wandering around Warrenpoint
for almost three days and that one of the people I had greeted could have been
my brother was strange and a little bit exciting.
Not only was my brother living in Warrenpoint
but I would know his wife. She was a
local girl from a village called Burren which is about two miles outside Warrenpoint. Anne and her sister Gerry were primary school
teachers, as was my brother’s wife, so Anne was able to tell me where they
lived, how many children they had, where they liked to socialise. That’s when one of the strangest things of
all happened. My brother ran a pub, not
in Warrenpoint, but in the village where my biological family lived, he travelled
there every day but when he had some time off he would wander down the street
in Warrenpoint and enjoy a beer or two, as you do. Not only did I know the pub he frequented
most but I also knew the people he hung about with. The good ol boys. Seems that when my brother went off for a
beer he would normally end up with Phelim and Peter, my best friends, talk
about weird or what?
This was something I had to get my head around,
I know that mother number two had told me to stay away from her, and I assumed
that she meant the remainder of the family as well but what was I to do? I knew that I was going to have to contact
my brother, far too many people, like Anne and Davie, knew about my biological family
and had taken it upon themselves to find out who and where my eleven brothers
and sisters were and lived. Somewhere
along the line people were going to start making connections and I thought it
would be better if I presented myself to my brother, rather than allow him to start
to hear gossip and rumour and maybe even the odd laugh. I found myself sitting on the sea wall
swinging my legs and watching the waves, as I had done so many times
before. It was nice just to let the
sound of the crashing waves wash away your thoughts and worries. I decided that I should contact my brother,
explain to him who I was and see what happened.
I had lived with the situation all my life and realised that if he knew
nothing about me then it might take him some time to come to grips with
it. I just wanted to assure him that I
was no threat, I wasn’t expecting to be invited around for lunch or that we
should become best buddies. I simply thought that he should know who I was and
what relationship we had and then see what developed from there.
I telephoned Irene and spoke about what I had
discovered, like myself, Irene agreed that I should contact him rather than
have him face any sort of discomfort or embarrassment should I accidently bump
in to him while out with the good ol boys.
Not that I would have expected the good ol boys to make a scene out of
such an occurrence but I would expect there to be a lot of beer, whooping, car
horns, more beer, loud country and western music, probably some more beer and
much more whooping and a bit of extreme engine revving. I replaced the receiver and dialled my brother’s
home telephone number. Thankfully he didn’t
answer, his wife did. I was able to
introduce myself. I suppose when you
were as good looking as I was and of course still having the loveliest legs in
Ireland most of the girls in the local area were madly in love with me. I should have had posters made, might have supplemented
the old pocket money and put David Cassidy out of business. She remembered me, told you, which made my
task much less difficult. It also meant
that someone he knew, and trusted, would now inform my brother. It was almost perfect. She assured me that she believed me, she had
heard the odd rumour here and there, but she would choose an appropriate moment
and tell my brother. Life was looking up,
not only had I found myself a job and somewhere to live I might even have found
myself a brother.
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