A Walk on the Wild Side......

  

One for the Road.....

It was the time of year when the rain in Ireland comes down like stair-rods; at least I think that is the expression.  Anyway, it was raining cats and dogs – now that analogy does make sense – or at least I think it does.................  That one is supposed to come from the time when poor peoples’ houses in Ireland had roofs made of soil with grass growing on them.   Animals including cats and dogs would spend the day and nights up on top.   Unless it was cold that is, then they would be brought into the house to warm it up.  When it rained very heavily the roof became slippery and they – that’s the cats and dogs - slid off it falling to the ground..............sounds like a load of old codswallop to me but it could be true I suppose. So there I was at about midnight, twelve miles from home and having missed the last bus from Dublin.  If I had not bothered with that last drink I would have caught it without any trouble.   But there you are....... I had begun walking and I was soon soaked to the skin.   In the state I found myself, no self-respecting person in his or her right mind would have offered me a seat in their car.  I soon stopped thumbing a lift from passing cars and committed myself to the twelve mile walk home.................. The occasional break in the rain left a clear sky and bearing in mind that I am talking about the early 1960’s, and there being a total lack of street lighting in the suburbs of Dublin, the heavens would occasionally open up and show  millions of bright twinkling stars. I decided to count them to pass the time as I strolled along.... I suppose that sounds strange, but in a semi-drunken state, it seemed quite logical to me. As far as I knew, no one had succeeded in doing so before............ I had reached 4,597 when there was a screech of brakes and a car stopped beside me on the road. "Is this the way to Bray?" the obviously foreign driver asked.  The strange thing about Ireland in those days is that road signs were in Gaelic.   An even odder thing is that nowadays I am told that they are in Gaelic, English and of all things, Polish........................ . The devil inside me took over as I casually lied.   I replied "Naw, sure you are going completely the wrong way".   I never thought of telling him the truth and asking for a lift at the same time after all we were both going to the same place.  Instead I directed him up into the Dublin Mountains. As he drove off, I laughed out loud and shouted after him "Sure, I’ll be there before you, you silly eejit".   It then dawned on me that I had just given up probably my only chance of a lift........................ Right, back to the stars counting: This time I had only reached 1,269 when the skies clouded over again and the rain came down even heavier than before. I decided to remember the number of stars I had reached and recommence the count as soon as it cleared again. I also decided to try to remember which star I had finished on..................... I had completed about five miles of the journey when I reached Blackrock and once again the skies cleared. I could see the sea at Sandymount to my left and would you believe it but I decided to have a paddle in the sea as the tide was out. I crossed over by the station and made my way down to the beach. Now, I doubt if you have any idea of what it looks like at Sandymount but the tide goes out about three miles on a seemingly never ending sand bank. I took off my shoes and socks, left them on a rock, rolled up my trousers and began to paddle in the pools close to the shore. Sure enough, as I moved further out towards the sea I lost my sense of direction. The drink inside me prevented total panic and instead I began to laugh. The rain came down heavier than before and the area was now in complete darkness. I tried to figure out my directions but without success. I decided to walk towards the only light on the skyline and luckily for me I never reached it. It was Dun Laoghaire Lighthouse. As soon as I recognised it, I did a complete about turn back to the shore. Now where on earth did I leave my shoes and socks? I knew it was close to the old swimming baths but did not know in which direction I would find that. I turned right and walked along the sandy beach. Half an hour later I reached the road and suddenly realised that I had walked the wrong way. Still, I now knew where I was. If I retraced my steps I would surely come to the swimming baths, collect my shoes and continue my journey home. Another half an hour and I reached the whitewashed walls of the baths. Another half-hour and I found my shoes just before they were taken away by the incoming tide. Not only were they wet from the rain, but the socks were soaked from the seawater. Still a good wring-out and they were good enough to put on. The squelching from the wet shoes foretold of sore feet to come. Back on the main road and another break in the clouds announced the arrival of the summer dawn. I figured out that it would probably be daybreak in about an hour. As I walked through the shopping area in Blackrock, a shadowy figure stepped out in front of me from a shop doorway. It was a six foot tall Garda. They are the police in Ireland and are usually from the deep countryside. "And where are you going, me boyo?" he asked. "Home" I stuttered, still shocked by his surprising apparition."And where might that be now?" he asked. "Where it’s always been, Bray" I answered, thinking my reply was somehow funny which made me titter.  "And how would you like to spend the remainder of the night in a police cell?" he asked. "Sure now, officer" I had changed my tune "I   would much prefer a lift home" I replied. "I’ll give you a lift, you little smartarse" he sounded a bit annoyed "I’ll give you a good kick in the arse if you are not out of my sight in thirty seconds". With that I was away, squeaking and squelching as I did so. Outside of the town, it began to get brighter in the sky and I began to get very, very tired. As I came to a low wall I decided to sit down and rest my wet feet. As I sat there, I closed my eyes – just for a moment.   A ‘moment’ later I opened them and found that I had fallen back into someone’s garden into a flowerbed, that  the sun was now well up in the sky and that traffic, although not heavy was beginning to appear on the road. As I began to walk again, a familiar car screeched to a halt beside me. "You are the little bastard who sent me all over the Dublin mountains, aren’t you?"  the English driver said in an irate voice. "Me?" I asked, "Sure I never saw you before in me life, I just came out to go to work" whilst pointing to a nearby house. "Sorry" the man said in a calmer voice "I must be mistaken. Is this the way to Bray?"  "Sure" I replied "just go straight ahead until you come to a large crossroads, turn right and keep straight ahead".  Of course it was a lie, but I had no intention of changing now that I was within three miles of home.   Once again he would be taken up into the Dublin Mountains. The rain had now stopped for over an hour and I was now feeling comfortably warm. The shoes and socks had dried out and I was only a little tired. When I got to within two miles of home, I decided to have another rest. I sat on a roadside bench and within literally minutes, I again fell asleep. I don’t quite remember how long I had slept but was awoken by the sound of a bus pulling up. I jumped up and boarded it. Three minutes later I was at the bottom of our road. I called in at a local shop and bought a newspaper. I saw that the time was now half past nine according to the wall clock................... Considering I had left Dublin at close to midnight, nine and a half hours to cover twelve miles must be some sort of record...................... -----------