The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [38]
I haven't seen anyone since you left, indeed for several months, because I must keep off the main streets but my courage is developing and I feel that I may see a day or two of the good life with some of these people I have not seen for some time. Dublin is a curious city. It is a city which is full of the good things but somehow one is too busy thinking about things like bread and tea, peace and a place to sleep where the rain dripping in does not give one the dream of the Titanic I spend a lot of my time walking along the canal and having coffee, when I can afford, in Jury's. When you come back to the ould sod I will be very happy to take you there. One sits under palm trees, with legs crossed and one talks and comes to all sorts of conclusions some of which are valuable, others merely interesting. But we expect all these things. They are still taking them out to the Grange every morning. I find it most stimulating but much more so since I have bought myself a second hand bicycle and have painted it black and put a little black flag on the handle bars and I take up the rear of all funerals going to the Grange. I have found that some people laugh at me for doing this and think that perhaps this man is a little mad but I say o aye and go on about my little tortured business. I have discovered one of the great ailments of Ireland, 67% of the population have never been completely naked in their lives. Now don't you, as a man of broad classical experience, find this a little strange and perhaps even a bit unhygienic. I think it is certainly both of these things. I am bound to say that this must cause a great deal of the passive agony one sees in the streets. There are other things wrong with this country but I must leave them wait for they are just developing in my mind. But you must try not to take your problem too seriously. You see, sex is something that we have to make new and better babas. If you can make a baba then you are all right I feel that it is a selfish world that wants this cheap thrill that one comes by in making a baba. Forget it
Tonight I am nestled up in my little drawing room. I have had a hard day of it Some say that it will always be this hard for me but they are mostly bastards. I committed an act of indecency on the train out to the Rock, about which I will tell you when you are back in the ould sod. There are some other things too, also left to tell you when you come. I take it you are a little desperate and would like to get back to the ould country. Why not come back? You should be able to find something to do here without much trouble, especially speaking French. I'll be very happy to put you up here and feed you with what we have and in closing my dear Kenneth I hope you will find use for this,
12
Raining outside. Cold morning. Felicity in her pram in the kitchen, wiggling a toothbrush in a jam jar. Marion standing against the mantelpiece in front of the black empty grate. Wearing slippers, wrapped in a blanket, her shanks showing. Just finished reading the letter, folding it carefully and slipping it back into its envelope.
I could tell there was trouble. I came down the stairs with my usual innocence and pain right smack into her silence which is the sign that she has a weapon. She stood there as if she were watching the groom saddle her horse. There was a smear of lipstick at the corner of her mouth, gave her a twisted smile. I thought for a second she was an Inca. She was quite polite when I asked her who the letter was from. She said simply, from your father.
I'll get my glasses."
"I'm afraid the letter is addressed to me."
"What do you mean, you're afraid ? "
"Just that. You're not going to read it."
"Now just a minute, that letter is from my father and I intend to know what's in it."
"And I intend you shan't."
"Don't get snotty."
"I'll be as snotty as I want. I no longer have to tolerate your nastiness."
"What's this mumbo jumbo. Don't act as if you have a secret file on me."
"I assure you it's not mumbo jumbo. I'm leaving this house."
"Now look, Marion, I don't feel well. I'm not up to farting about at this godforsaken hour of the morning. Now just what the hell do you mean you're leaving this house?"