- Gender and Relationships»
My Little Irish Oracle. A Tribute To a Magical Lady This Christmas.
Not Mrs M. But Identical To Her!
its this time of year that I remember her. It always makes me smile.
With the dark cold winters and the light going down really fast, I can still see myself trotting across the road, scooting up the alley and then going around the corner to knock on number 5.
The house would always be lit up, like a beacon to draw in the lost and lonely. I know it sounds poetic but that's just how I saw it.
I would wait a few minutes, then a little white haired Irish lady would open the door.
'Nell' she used to cry, 'Come on in, get warm, its cold out there so it is'.And she would lead me into her lovely front room. 'Do ya want a cuppa tea now?' She would ask, and I would nod, and say yes please.
'Well now' she would saying, huffing and puffing herself back into her cozy armchair, 'Off you go and make it, and while you are there get the biscuit tin down and don't forget to get me a tea, hot, not too much milk and lots of sugar, to be sure!' With a twinkle in her eye I was made welcome once again.
Oh we laughed, in fact we used to laugh so much she would cry. She was only tiny, and she would rock back and forward until she had to hold her sides.
'Oh get on with ya'! She used to say, when she didn't believe a word I was saying!
Her little face would glow in the firelight.
She was my best friends mother, and my little Oracle. Why the Oracle? Because she used to say 'Don't ya worry, there's a loverly guy out there for ya, I can see it in my minds eye, and feel it in my bones'!
The lights would be shining in the corners of the room, and the Irish music on the radio would be on in the background playing songs such as 'Carrigfergus' and 'The Hills of Connemara'.
The rhythm would invade my body, and all the stress that I was feeling slowly slipped away as we began to talk.
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How did I come to meet this lovely lady? Well, she was my friends mother. Annie had moved away with her new husband, and the other three sisters were scattered all over England.
Most of Mrs. Ms, as I liked to call her, family were in Tipperary Ireland. So I was the nearest to her in the fact that we lived in the same town. Just down the road in fact.
Of course I didn't start going round there to see her in the first place. I only went round to see Annie before she moved away.
But somehow Mrs. M would always manage to sneak into our conversations. We would sit at the table and chat, and next second Mrs. M would be there, pulling up a chair and asking. 'So, what are we going to talk about? Now Nell, have you got yourself a nice young man again'?
And she would screw her mouth up to stop herself from laughing. Annie would nudge her and say, 'Ah Mam will you go away and let us talk?' But she laugh and say 'No, I am not missing all the fun'. Then shuffle in her chair to make herself comfortable.
After that I somehow got asked to go round when Annie wasn't there. With words such as 'Now then, I need to put up those curtains so I do, now where can I get someone to help me?'
This was said with a twinkle in her eye while trying not to look at me. So I of course volunteered.
And that was, as they say, that!
So the scene was set for at least 15 years of sitting and chatting, working out problems, laughing as we put up curtains and cleaned her kitchen.
Sometimes her grandchildren would be there, other times it was just me, Mrs. M and Annie.
But it was magical. She was like a little Irish Oracle Pixie. Small, white haired and with a huge smile.
At Christmas time she would always put up the tree in the corner of the room, and carols would be singing out. She was Catholic, and there were pictures of Jesus on the walls, and Bibles left on the coffee table.
We used to chat about religion. She was fascinated by my beliefs, and me, hers. But we never argued. It was our opinions and we both respected them.
At Christmas she always bought me a card and gave me some money. I would protest but she would say, ' Oh don't be a daftie, you are my fifth daughter, adopted so you are'! Then burst out laughing.
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- A Letter to my Best Friend Who I Lost This Week. I W...
My heart broke when I lost my best friend. This is a tribute to her.
Sadly at 83 years old she couldn't last much longer, and back early last year she passed on. I was really sad, but glad that I had met her, she really brightened up my life.
I was a bit sad to hear of her passing through a text message!
Her eldest daughter just told me she had gone and they would call me after it was all over.
I have never heard a word from them since.
But I don't care. For a while Mrs. M was part of my life and I thank her so much for it. I can still hear her lovely Irish lilt and her tinkling laughter.
'Get away with ya, ya soppy thing so ya are'.
Bless you Mrs. M.