Six degrees.....and Pimms at the Mayor's gaff.

‘Please don’t frighten the babysitter, we need a social life’ I warn our three. ‘What’s a social life’ the Youngest asks ‘Ye have one, we don’t’ I said. Turns out, between the jigs and the reels, and meetings in the park with the Mums-are-us, the wife of the Mayor went to school with a sister of our next door neighbour in Galway. And, one of the other ladies' brother lives in the nearest village at home. Go figure. Ye just don’t know who yer talkin to. So, we are invited to dine at the Mayor’s gaff. 'What'll ya do if it's fish tonight', I ask Himself, 'Why d'ya think I'm havin a quick sandwich now' he responds, all worked out. What does one wear? I don’t have a summer and winter capsule wardrobe, it’s all the one, cause there’s only one season in Galway.

‘In or out’, Himself asks gesturing to the shirt. ‘Which shoes?’ I respond, we have no full length mirror. Off we go, new hairdo and bottle of white under our oxters. Introductions were made to the other couples followed by Pimms under a fairy lit parasol on comfy seats. No picnic benches or white plastic furniture here. The back garden appears as an extension of the kitchen, fresh out of an interior magazine. You know, all modern and shiny and white with an island bigger than our kitchen, perfect for all that entertaining. The crockery matched and we are assigned to our seats. The couples are used to each other, the banter flies over and back. We watch our p’s and q’s. Can’t let the side down. I’ll refrain from breaking into Nancy Spain for a while, although something tells me we are not in such company.


The hosts are most pleasant, the food delicious, surprisingly home made. Maybe the caterers had double booked. It’s all sooo middle class, all very polite. I don’t know where I fit in but know that I am different. I don’t have to worry about finding a decent cleaner or replacing the 23 windows in my Victorian townhouse. ‘So will you be joining the other ladies of leisure’ I am asked by one of the alpha males. ‘No, I’m just a poor student’. Anyway I don’t like tennis. We walk home, and I walk the babysitter home, so convenient. Himself has the G&T made, a nightcap. ‘Well....what’ya make of all that?!’ he says. ‘I don’t know’, says I ‘but me ears are burnin’.