Roofer

Today I was given an opportunity to climb onto the roof of the building which houses our flat. My cousin had called a roofer to come look at the slates, which must be about 170 years old. I had already tried to climb up there (once the tenants had departed) with our retractable ladder, taking it up to the landing of the topfloor flat and attempting to lean it against the one, narrow skylight. But it was just one rung too short.

Sure enough, the roofer had a longer ladder. I offered to hold it for him, since he needed to open the skylight before the ladder could be made secure. Then I followed him up, knowing that there was a whole different world up there, excellent for blipping; in fact excellent for experiencing in the first place. I kept hearing the lines from Heaney's fabulous sonnet 'The Skylight' (about the installation of a skylight, which he had opposed):

"But when the slates came off, extravagant
Sky entered and held surprise wide open.
For days I felt like an inhabitant
Of that house where the man sick of the palsy
Was lowered through the roof, had his sins forgiven,
Was healed, took up his bed and walked away."

I was right. The views were stunning, clear out to sea and Howth Head, or the mountains in the other direction. And the weather was once more beautiful, a perfect day for walking along the Watchtower.

But in the end the roofer himself (Bob) made a better photograph, framed perfectly in that narrow blueprint.