HEART BEAT:Puddles, soggy dinners, windswept brollies and green bins
Varium et mutabile semper femina (Virgil)
MERCURY SEEMINGLY said this to Aeneas in a vision. Virgil had the sense not to claim the observation as his own lest Mrs Virgil took offence at the intimation “that a woman is always a fickle unstable thing”.
The Roman Sisterhood would certainly have taken umbrage, so Virgil placed the phrase in the mouth of a fictional character. Wasn’t he the clever poet?
I am about to tell you a true story and as this concerns the Highest Authority, I would be obliged if you could keep it to yourselves. It starts with the stupidity of men, as so many tales do. In this case it was me.
The HA was destined to attend her school reunion dinner and I, with a Lesser Authority and a newly-arrived grandson, were left to fend for ourselves.
Ever resourceful, I suggested to my daughter that we should avail of the menu in a local takeaway in Blackrock village; furthermore that we should select a nice bottle of wine and maybe watch some rugby on the box, thus proving that in dire emergency we could take care of ourselves.
The order was placed and I duly set forth to collect same.
It was a very bad night, with gale force wind and torrential rain. I briefly considered taking the car, but in deference to carbon emissions or some theory like that, I equipped myself with hat, raincoat and umbrella and, like Scott of the Antarctic, set forth bravely into the darkness.
As I turned into the teeth of the gale on the Rock Road, my hat blew off and the umbrella turned inside out. I retrieved the hat, fixed the umbrella and plodded grimly towards my destination.
There was not a solitary Christian to be seen abroad, as I plodded along keeping close to the wall to avoid the spray from passing cars.
I obtained brief respite when I reached the Blackrock Centre, having lost the hat several times and with an umbrella that didn’t seem to know which side should face the elements. A short dash down Main Street and I reached my goal, collected my order and set off for home.
The weather was now worse, and I had the additional problem of keeping the dinner dry.
Now for those who don’t know the area, I will explain that at the junction of Mount Merrion Avenue and Rock Road there is a perpetual puddle which on this evening had assumed the proportions of a lake.
As I had to pass this, I paused until no vehicle was in sight and then moved forwards quickly. The umbrella did its trick again and my hat sailed into the lake.
It reached the shore on the far side and as I arrived to retrieve it, a person driving an 09 BMW at 90 miles an hour went straight through the lake. If that driver still lives, there is nothing in the power of prayer.
I made it home, saturated and with a soggy dinner. Outside the house was a car collecting the HA for her dinner. She took one look at me and, you won’t believe this, she laughed.
The following Tuesday morning I was late putting out the green bin. I hoped that the collection would be later than usual, but on my return from golf in the afternoon it was still full. I left it there. About an hour later the HA returned from her golf.
In Dublin we do not play in the same club, but I won’t go into that in case some liberal decides to name and shame me. In any case the HA did not seem to be in the best of humours.
We men tend to notice such things, as we are very sensitive to sudden drops in room temperature. I said nothing and eventually the cause was revealed. It was my fault.
She had pulled up to the gates of the house and opened them with the remote control. She got out of the car and, finding the green bin full, dragged it into the garden. As she turned around the gate was closing and she rushed to get through. She was too late and got stuck in the gate.
Her remote control was in the car and she could not reach the panel on the gate pillar. It was raining heavily. A kind taxi driver noted her predicament and liberated her.
If I had put the green bin out in time, none of this would have happened.
Something similar must have happened to Virgil.
Maurice Neligan is a cardiac surgeon