A very Mary Christmas!

First draught of a christmas short story, needs a lot of work and editing, but needed to put it up!

A very Mary Christmas

It was that time of evening, getting dark and Mary was sick to the teeth of listening to the league of  kitchen Island complainers, ringing in to tell Joe, their broken nail problems. She stared out the window, wondering if being a tough and independent woman, rearing tough and independent children was all it was cracked up to be.

The two were off on their own now, doing their own thing as she had vigorously taught them to do, loving their own families and not caring about their mother, as that mother made sure they would do!

Has that plan back fired a little? If Mary was left on her own, it would have been fine, but the humiliation of being dragged down to the Community Hall, to be paraded as needy and fed like cattle from a trough was the main problem.

From the window, she could see that goddamn cat, he was around yesterday, she surprised herself, when she hit it with the cracked cup from under the sink, a fine crack rang out when she walloped the thing on the head. There it was again, wandering around, calling for a mother that was probably flattened by a speeding car, how pathetically frail it looked, how pathetic she was herself, redundant, praying for a happy death and a quick Community Christmas dinner!

Last year was horrible, Mary arrived in with her best clothes on, but no, that wasn’t good enough, a young girl, who could never give a blow-job, because of her teeth latched on to Mary like a leech and wouldn’t let go, until Mary surrendered and was brandishing a cheap and tacky “Christmas Jumper” and paper hat, plonked down, next to country farmers who never looked in the mirror, loved only their mother and ate like prisoners, trying desperately to keep their teeth in some sort of position and Mary was left there, to her own trying to understand the old boys, who were also jumpered!

After dinner, the chubby, red-haired gay boy sang exhausted country and western songs, as Mary clapped and smiled, she thought to herself, “that fella should be out, getting naked with some other gay fella rather than singing to a crowd of deaf Granny’s!”

After the entertainment, came the bloody raffle, where every senior citizen won either a bucket of talcum powder or a pint of fowl smelling perfume, or a mixture of both, it seemed to scream out “ we’d rather power hose you, than ever have to engage with you intellectually.

After the humiliation of the raffle, Mary thought, she could slink away with her gallon of Tweed, but oh no, there was three hours of Bingo to go yet!

The worst part of the whole day was Joan Bradshaw, three years behind Mary in school and acting like a teenager, dressing up like a pop star, only thing giving her away was it looked as if she padded her bra with pringle boxes. Joan was stuck in every committee, campaign and charity, helping this bastard to do that and that bitch to do this, always a sign of a sexless and unhappy marriage, tis with the chubby singer, her husband would rather want to be with, but the gushing, the emotion, the speeches and the grandiose way of telling everyone of all the time, money and energy she spent looking after everyone was the main problem, you’d swear she was Geldof feeding fecking Africa, for Christ's sake. Her speech ended with all her unhappy and sexually frustrated sidekicks, clapping themselves into an other worldly oblizion, some of them even crying, a good ride would sort them all out!

Mary left a saucer of milk outside the door, for that rotten kitten, the vermin tried to coax his way in, rubbing his way around her legs, she tossed him across the yard with her foot and watched as he rolled across the gravel, as she closed the door, her mind went straight back to her ordeal.  For five hours, she was trapped in that damp hall, with industrial noisy, smelly heaters, to be dumped at her own dark door, without one person actually talking to her, treating her like a person, only smiling stupidly at her and taking photos with her, as if she was a deserted donkey.

She consoled herself with the thought, “I suppose they mean well, but they just don’t get it”.

As she sat by the range, the fire got warmer, the evening got darker and the baileys got bolder!

Her breathing got stronger, her eyes got heavier and her body got limper, she was asle…………………………………………

It’s hard to describe how someone gets into a dream, only the dream itself and Mary was there, it took a while, to take in where she was, what she was actually seeing, but soon she was comfortable.  Holding her father’s hand, on the road home from Healy’s, she was wearing that red coat that made her feel like a princess, how she cried when she grew out of it and had to watch her cousin, now be the princess. it was dark but not scary, all the candles in the windows welcomed any traveller. Her father telling her, “tonight, the seaweed turns to silk, the gravel turns to diamonds and the ocean turns to wine” her mind was racing with the image and wanted to head over the field to the strand, but, dad offered a warning, “no one has seen it and lived to tell the tale” that was that. scene after scene changed to different times in her life, those times in her life when she denied herself everything, if only she knew then, priests were more horny than holy, her life would have be very different. She was at Charring Cross tube station, telling Julian, that she wouldn’t be going to Blackpool with him, as he was a Protestant and could easily compromise her soul. He was devastated and she loved him. She could feel herself rising out of the scene, higher and higher she went, seeing all of London.

She first noticed, the dribble down her cheek and then, that bastard of a cat, on her lap!

The tractor like purring was seeming to hypnotise her and unwittingly, her hand was moving closer to stoke his frail, soft and spirited body.  With every stroke, a strange kind of feeling filled her, everything seemed possible, her life was hers and if she wanted to be odd, she had every right to be!

Once her plan started to come together there was no stopping her, first, she rang John the Taxi Driver “John, I won't be going tomorrow, thank you” she left the message, a job well done. Next, she’d have to be patient, because… 

Jesus, the phone, Mary put on her glasses and looked at the number-it was Geldof herself! How quick the bush telegraph works, or did Joan have Mary's phone bugged?

Mary had to answer otherwise she’d be around with some sidekick, like Batman and Robin, averting a major emergency. 

Quick thinking was needed to put an end to this whole sorry saga.

Mary had just said a calm Hello, when Joan Gushed in, like a flash flood of sewer water!

I’ve to collect Breifne from the bus, he’s going to Belvedere, don’t you know, he was so good at pretending to be homeless, that i’m buying him, a new set of golf club’s

He got a pair last year on his trip to Florida, but the new Barth & Sons set is out and I know he’d like them. but, are you alright, Marie? Why aren’t joining us tomorrow?

Is there anything I can do for you? I just love helping people like you!

No, no, you’re fine, Joan, looking at the cat, I’ve a visitor, just arrived.

Oh, who’s that?  Who’s called?  They can come along too, don;t you know, if they’re not needy, they can just pay €20.

Mary had never played the old lady card before, but decided the devil drives when the needs must.

The forecast is for dry weather and that’s a blessing.

But Mary, who is the visitor?

Sorry Joan, I have to……. Grate the Brussel sprouts, happy Christmas.

But Joan, who?

Mary put down the phone and punched the air, she was free! She found herself rubbing the cat’s head and trying to figure out a name, she can’t keep calling it obscenities.  She now had to plan out, her own Christmas day and would need help, to get things from town and she wasn’t talking turkey.

Sally, the young girl next door, had just turned 18.  During the summer Mary had spotted her with a boy, at the turn of the road.  Mary had been browsing with her  binoculars, she always used her binoculars, but only for security purposes. She got a great view of the boy tugging at Sally's skirt and lifting her top, there wasn't much to lift.  As Mary watched the passion unfold, she found herself being envious, but that age-old confusion about who she was envious of, the tugger and lifter, or the tugged and lifted?   It didn’t matter, as Sally caught Mary looking and stuck her middle finger up at the spy. Mary knew, that Sally knew, what Mary saw and that was good enough.

She waited til she saw Sally leaving her home and called her over, what a state Sally Looked, black eyes like a Badger, hair styled with lard and more tights than clothes, but they stroke up a conversation and a deal was made, Mary knew they would intrinsically linked for this bargain, for better or worse, it was done.

Christmas morning, Mary woke with Hobbit purring like a Massey Ferguson, wrapped around her head, as if he was if this, was what he was born to do and be, she turned over for another sleep, what a luxury?

Soon after, she was woken with a belting at the door, she put on her nightgown and slippers and headed to the gateway of her private World, It was Joan! Wearing a jumper, that looked as if Santy vomited it up, after a feed of glitter, curry and drink, yet still not hiding her Pringle boxes and a tracksuit bottoms.

Hello Mary, I just can’t help caring about people like you. 

With a flash of inspiration, Mary beckoned to be quiet, as the visitor was asleep, which he was.

Oh right, I brought two Christmas dinners, from my own table, As you see, Deirdre  was finishing her PhD and…..

Mary took the plates, smiled and thanked Joan, but made a face as if she had no choice, but to go.

Watching a puzzled yet indifferent Joan getting into her BMW, she gave a great sigh of relief, it was over!

Mary put on the red dress that was about twenty years old, She couldn’t figure out, if it was due to fragility or seize, but she couldn't zip it up to the top, but she had a purple cardigan, that covered up any anomalies, she then pulled out a pair of shoes, that like Cinderella, could easily turn into a walking aid at midnight, if she wasn't careful, but didn’t care.

Sally called over, fixed up Mary’s DVD player and put on “Thelma and Louise” Sally also announced she could visit tomorrow and start teaching about the internet, twitter and texting!

Later, that evening, Mary sipped from her glass of blue wicked (she’d rather Baileys, but that was Sally’s idea) and as she studied the pack of Silk cut purple, she saw the big lettering "SMOKING KILLs" she chuckled to herself and whispered "bring it on". She Watched Hobbit gorging himself on the two plates of rubber that Joan brought. As Mary settled down to eat a yard and a half of After Eights.

She raised her glass and said “Fuck you” to the world and looked forward to two thousand and ………… whatever it is.

The end.

Equal Marriage Campaign!

As a gay man, who has lived very comfortably in the countryside, more than any city, for most of my life. I’d like to talk about the Equal Marriage Referendum.

I closely watched the Scottish Independence Referendum, not as a supporter of either side, but as an observer.

The “yes” campaign offered a very big change and had very big emotions attached to it, the idea that this was the right way to go, it was just, fair and historically laden.  While, the “no” side was very clear; change could lead to the breakdown of Scottish society and with it being unchartered waters, who could say whether or which.

Now, I don’t want to get bogged (or even blogged) down about Scotland, but just to draw some parallels to our own marriage referendum and trying hard to keep emotions out of this. 

Giving Gay people the right to marry is the way to go, I know it and if you’re reading this, you know it.  Yet, being just and right has it’s drawbacks, we have more to lose, not just the right to marry, but being endorsed by this beautiful Celtic country, that I’m so proud of.

Whereas, the NO side has just to appeal to peoples “it’s alright as it is” button, with a few more arguments thrown in.

But, let me be clear, the No side have every right to exist, I’m all for free speech and freedom of religion, it’s when those rights impinge on my rights, that it gets problematic.  Anyway, the No side have their part to play in all this and here’s where I’d like to make a few suggestions for the yes side.

Very district in Ireland has more than it’s “only gay in the village” and if these people with their supporters came together, I’m not asking for every gay man and woman to be a Lady Godiva, but start meeting, talking, mobilising. These pockets could come together to form a strong grassroots network through out the country, some maybe very strong, others might be slightly weak, we’ll work on that. 

This network would be the blood stream of the campaign, carrying support to a national centre point and feeding back information, posters and the tools to campaign back to the people. Posters alone would be easily distributed and not wasted, by this process.

These pockets can grow and evolve as the campaign goes on, because remember, this is about vote and voters, having nice shiny celebrities endorsing Equal Marriage is comforting and nice for their profile, but I, as a complete nobody in the gay community could influence at least 12 voters, maybe more and if every nobody did that?  

As in all cases, there are a lot of different organisations, helping the gay community, who could end up, subconsciously jostling for position, if each organisation sent one or two people to a core group, which would be the heart of the network. This heart would then co-ordinate the workings of the yes campaign, but it really is down to the people on the ground, many hands make light work and we have many supporters to help as well.

It is also important to keep in mind, the emotion, there will inevitably be a lot of hurtful things said, conveyed and implied by by every side, but it is important to show respect and to come out on top of all that, we need to convince the “don’t knows and the unsures” rather spend time, trying to change the minds of people who have firmly made up theirs, we can change some, but it is better to have a more positive outlook and policy.

Wouldn’t it be amazing, if all pockets started getting together, for the end of January, a county wide and provincial meeting held in February and a National Ard deis held in March and let the workings begin, if not sooner?

Now, I know people will have different ideas and will give out, slate my ideas, offer different opinions and I welcome that, but I’m convinced, if we leave it to celebrity X and y, we could easily, be exactly where we are next year and that is something I don't want!