Was waiting at a pedestrian crossing the other day, canvas shopping bag on my shoulder. It reads ‘This bag is for the messages’ written in large print, with a list of necessities on the other side, ‘sliced pan, pound of butter, cream buns, tay bags, slices of hang’, you know, the staples of any Irish household (see www.hairybaby.com). A group of young wans coming home from school were comin up beside me, bit giddy in themselves. One of them proceeded to read the large print. She was totally addled, may as well have been Greek. So when the fear dearg turned glás I crossed with a spring in my step and a slight smirk on my face, like I had a secret.
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