you get when you make your bed. You have to lie in it, don’t you? Which is absolutely true of course as he was going to find out
himself, and a lot sooner than he thought, standing there in the kitchen coming on like a preacher and passing judgements on a helpess, choked-up wretch who, with her stick fingers and wizened skin
and rapidly disappearing teeth, was beginning to look more like a scarecrow than someone you would be inclined to call your mother.
Tell Me I’m Dreaming
The first sign that old lover boy might be in for a little bit of a surprise came when the inspector on his second teaching practice said to him, ‘I see where you
received a B plus for your earlier teaching practice. To be quite frank I can’t understand it. Perhaps it was because you had second class. Sixth class as you can see are a different kettle
of fish altogether. There were times, Mr Dudgeon, when I felt you were seriously out of your depth.’ Malachy was dumbstruck. He stared at him in disbelief as he clicked his briefcase shut.
What was he talking about – out of his depth? Sure there had been a little bit of a problem getting one or two of the boys to sit at rest during the geography lesson but that was no big deal
was it for Christ’s sake. I mean – come on! As he was leaving the inspector paused and said, ‘I would suggest you pay careful attention to discipline and related areas. Much of
your teaching is good but classroom discipline is of paramount importance. Unless that is taken care of everything else suffers. A good rule of thumb is – firm but fair.’
When he was gone, Malachy felt like laughing. What did he care – he would get a job anyway. There were hundreds of jobs. Thousands. He didn’t care what the inspector said. Fuck him!
He had it all worked out and nothing was going to stop him! Of course he would get a job. They were crying out for teachers all over the country. Everyone knew that. Soon as you left college, all
you had to do was walk right into one. Which was exactly what he was going to do. And just as soon as he did, Marion and him would get married. It was all worked out. It was all worked out and
nothing on earth could stop it. Nothing.
He said it to her that night after they had made love.
‘I want to get married,’ he said.
‘Me too,’ she replied. ‘But let’s live together for a while first? See how it goes.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Let’s get married. Who wants to live together?’
‘Right in, Malachy Dudgeon. Right in at the deep end every time.’
‘I want you all to myself,’ he said and kissed her neck and face.
She was wearing a T-shirt with a big red number 99 on it. Even the sound of her brushing her teeth in the bathroom was enough to drive him mad.
Marion was first to get a job – teaching infants in a convent on the south side of the city. The night she received confirmation of her appointment, they went out and got plastered. They
kissed outside the gates of the college just like that first time after the dance in Parnell Square. Malachy was ecstatic. ‘I just can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘Moving in
with the woman I love more than anyone in the world. Wake me up – tell me I’m dreaming!’
‘You’re dreaming!’ a faint voice echoed at the back of his mind. ‘You’re dreaming.’ But he didn’t hear it. With his tongue halfway down Marion’s
throat, he never heard a word.
Two Happy Men
In the year of Our Lord nineteen hundred and thirty-one when Raphael was eighteen years old and in his first year at St Patrick’s Training College Drumcondra, he found
himself one evening sitting under a laburnum tree with javelins of light sailing towards him through the autumn leaves. As he looked up from the Hall and Knights algebra opened on his knee,
he saw standing in front of him the blocky figure of a youth in a grey suit with a great big smile.
The youth leaned against the tree and ran his fingers through his blackberry curls, shaking his
himself, and a lot sooner than he thought, standing there in the kitchen coming on like a preacher and passing judgements on a helpess, choked-up wretch who, with her stick fingers and wizened skin
and rapidly disappearing teeth, was beginning to look more like a scarecrow than someone you would be inclined to call your mother.
Tell Me I’m Dreaming
The first sign that old lover boy might be in for a little bit of a surprise came when the inspector on his second teaching practice said to him, ‘I see where you
received a B plus for your earlier teaching practice. To be quite frank I can’t understand it. Perhaps it was because you had second class. Sixth class as you can see are a different kettle
of fish altogether. There were times, Mr Dudgeon, when I felt you were seriously out of your depth.’ Malachy was dumbstruck. He stared at him in disbelief as he clicked his briefcase shut.
What was he talking about – out of his depth? Sure there had been a little bit of a problem getting one or two of the boys to sit at rest during the geography lesson but that was no big deal
was it for Christ’s sake. I mean – come on! As he was leaving the inspector paused and said, ‘I would suggest you pay careful attention to discipline and related areas. Much of
your teaching is good but classroom discipline is of paramount importance. Unless that is taken care of everything else suffers. A good rule of thumb is – firm but fair.’
When he was gone, Malachy felt like laughing. What did he care – he would get a job anyway. There were hundreds of jobs. Thousands. He didn’t care what the inspector said. Fuck him!
He had it all worked out and nothing was going to stop him! Of course he would get a job. They were crying out for teachers all over the country. Everyone knew that. Soon as you left college, all
you had to do was walk right into one. Which was exactly what he was going to do. And just as soon as he did, Marion and him would get married. It was all worked out. It was all worked out and
nothing on earth could stop it. Nothing.
He said it to her that night after they had made love.
‘I want to get married,’ he said.
‘Me too,’ she replied. ‘But let’s live together for a while first? See how it goes.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Let’s get married. Who wants to live together?’
‘Right in, Malachy Dudgeon. Right in at the deep end every time.’
‘I want you all to myself,’ he said and kissed her neck and face.
She was wearing a T-shirt with a big red number 99 on it. Even the sound of her brushing her teeth in the bathroom was enough to drive him mad.
Marion was first to get a job – teaching infants in a convent on the south side of the city. The night she received confirmation of her appointment, they went out and got plastered. They
kissed outside the gates of the college just like that first time after the dance in Parnell Square. Malachy was ecstatic. ‘I just can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘Moving in
with the woman I love more than anyone in the world. Wake me up – tell me I’m dreaming!’
‘You’re dreaming!’ a faint voice echoed at the back of his mind. ‘You’re dreaming.’ But he didn’t hear it. With his tongue halfway down Marion’s
throat, he never heard a word.
Two Happy Men
In the year of Our Lord nineteen hundred and thirty-one when Raphael was eighteen years old and in his first year at St Patrick’s Training College Drumcondra, he found
himself one evening sitting under a laburnum tree with javelins of light sailing towards him through the autumn leaves. As he looked up from the Hall and Knights algebra opened on his knee,
he saw standing in front of him the blocky figure of a youth in a grey suit with a great big smile.
The youth leaned against the tree and ran his fingers through his blackberry curls, shaking his
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