Free The Tay Is Wet by Ben Ryan Page B

to men with a wide spread of ages.
    Those in their twenties laughed and chatted and looked completely at ease in her company. Men in their thirties and forties always regarded her as belonging to their own age group and, of course, with these she was decidedly popular. Those of fifty, sixty and older ages could happily converse with her on subjects from their own interest sphere and she could equally match them in all topics. Dolores was a single lady and all in Roggart were at a loss to know why, because she was a wonderful worker, intelligent, but a bit dumb as well, which was an almost perfect combination in any person, male or female. She was not particularly well educated and did not pretend that she knew anything about politics or higher mathematics. In other words she never posed a threat to those who had an inflated opinion of themselves. Everybody, and I really mean everybody, was comfortable in her company and this may be the reason, or part of the reason, for her eventual status as a much sought after adviser, especially by young men with anxieties or worries.
    Kathleen O’Grady had been widowed after only five years of marriage. She was much admired for the single-handed rearing of two girls and one boy. The boy’s name was Mickey Joe. He was now about thirty years old and was regarded as a moody individual. When he was five Kathleen entered a “Smiley Suds” knitting competition. She knitted a brightly coloured fairisle sleeveless pullover which the young Mickey Joe modelled for the judges in the Faz factory in Dublin and her prize for winning was a year’s supply of Faz washing powder. The proud mother and toddler’s photograph appeared in all the newspapers and from this time onward Kathleen never stopped knitting these same garments, and Mickey Joe never stopped wearing these fairisle pullovers. Every colour of the rainbow was used in their creation, reds, blues, yellows, greens. Neighbours gave her their surplus bits of wool and all Mickey Joe’s complaints and hints of his dislike of the garments were ignored.
    And now at thirty years of age Mickey Joe was asked by his mother to model a pullover again at the Roggart Women’s Sewing Circle meeting, where she was giving a knitting demonstration. The unfortunate man went into a black depression and said he would rather throw himself under a bus or maybe a train. Kathleen as usual ignored him and said ‘Don’t fret, love, you’ll be a great hit on the night.’
    But this time Mickey Joe was intent on showing that he had reached the end of his tether and that he had to protest with some striking gesture which could not be ignored. In The Cozy Bar he tried telling a few men of his own age what he was going to do but they just laughed and started talking about football. The city bus came each evening at seven o’clock and stopped outside Murphy’s Garage. Mickey Joe wandered down towards the garage and felt really good. He would show them once and for all. He came to a bend in the road where a tree half hid him from the oncoming bus and as he leaned out to see if it was coming down the road, he noticed that there was a car in front of the bus. Sitting in the passenger seat was Dolores Mayfel who waved as she passed.
    Mickey Joe swore and jumped back into the ditch as the bus sped past.
    ‘Feck it, that was a close one, Dolores nearly caught me,’ he muttered, ‘I’ll have to plan this more carefully.’
    He was walking back towards his home when, suddenly, Dolores stepped out from a side road and walked along with him.
    ‘How is it going, Mickey, how is life treating you?’ she said in her usual cheery manner.
    ‘Well to tell you the truth, Dolores, if mother doesn’t stop knitting fairisle pullovers for me, I’m going to throw myself in front of a bus, or maybe a train.’
    ‘Will you don’t be such an eejit,’ she retorted, ‘I’ll make you an offer, I’ll knit you an Aran sweater and I’ll swop it with you for the fairisle