Saint Patrick's Day

Here's a spot of green for St Patrick's Day. As you can see we have fresh snow on the mountains. I had fun this morning driving around looking for a bright green hillside with a view of the mountains beyond. I went quite a long way before I found this.

My grandmother came from Kilkenny, but she was a Protestant, so she wouldn't approve of my mentioning St Patrick. Well, she didn't approve of anything much. On our extended family holidays Granma would take on the job of getting the youngsters ready for bed. It was an opportunity for her to impress upon us one of her strongest beliefs, that total nudity is evil and should be avoided at all costs.

Granma would run about four inches of barely warm water into the bath and strip us to the waist. A wet, soapy facecloth was vigorously applied and we were towelled dry. Then she'd put on our singlets and pyjama tops. These she would roll up to our armpits and we would have to hold them in place with our arms as she took off our knickers and lifted us into the bath. There would be a very sharp smack for a child who got so much as a drop of water on their clothes.

I can vividly remember sitting in the tepid water clenching my elbows and my teeth, as she scrubbed the soles of my feet, and me suspecting that she was really a witch.