Marty

Gary! How the hell are ye? I'm in the middle of making raspberry jam. Which means there's now a bit more space available in my freezer.

Just thinking for future years... Are the trees too large for you to consider covering them with protective fleece to protect against frost damage?? http://www.haxnicksusa.com/fruit-tree-covers

Not much we can do about the weather, unfortunately. What fruit are you growing?

Doing okay, thanks. Busy - but that's better than sitting round twiddling my fingers with nothing to do How's yourself?

Hello, young Albert

'Jonni I think I've been dumped fml' That was what all that was in the text message I had just received. 'Not more drama in Sean's life?' was my immediate thought. I had dropped Sean off in Galway the previous evening outside the hotel where he had arranged to meet some guy that he had been chatting to online for the previous week or so. Over breakfast the next morning I'd found a video he had sent to my phone overnight, and assumed from the content that his date had gone well. I delete

Sean is a troubled young man. Some of the things he does might be considered to be not all that well thought out. At times all his family and friends, particularly his older friend, Johnny (the narrator of these fragments of Sean's life), can do is to be there for him, and help him to pick up the pieces when things go wrong. Even when, sometimes, Sean himself doesn't even seem to want to pick up the pieces.

We were about seventeen years old at the time. We were studying sciences for A-Level. So we were used to gathering and studying facts. I suspect that a large part of the reason we decided (by ourselves I should maybe mention - not because any of our teachers asked us to) to try our hands at writing poetry was to prove to ourselves (and to our other friends who were not studying science) that we could. And maybe also to try to disprove the suggestion that we were simply illiterate scientists (as opposed to our other friends, who we jokingly referred to as innumerate artists). And we didn't restrict ourselves to writing about Truth. We did try other ideas as well. I certainly remember a period when we tried our hands at Haiku. I do agree with most of what you say, though, @Geron Kees. Even if your use of the word snowflake near the end did make me smile.

Thanks, Parker!

Yea, I was able to watch it. And it certainly made me laugh! 😄 I can't resist asking, though... Is that actually true?

Maybe, @Lyssa... Or perhaps all I realised is the fact that there is no universal truth.

I never need an excuse to have chocolate! Sorry, gang! Just a quick visit. I'm off to my bed now, so if you say "Hi" to me I may not see it for a while.

I'm enjoying the story, but I can't help thinking that if it actually took place around 1981 (you said in the prologue that this happened some thirty years ago, and this chapter was posted to GA on 13th January 2011) I don't think cellphones were really available to the public... A quick Google search suggests to me that Motorola put the first mobile phone on the market in September 1983 - and it cost around $4,000 (equivalent of about $10,000 dollars today). Just saying... Still a great story, though!

Reminds me of an old joke... Question: Why does a milking stool only have three legs? Answer: (Actually the real reason is quite cool - apparently it's because, no matter how uneven the floor is, 3 legs will all make contact with the floor. A four legged stool on uneven ground will tend to be unstable.)

Surviving. Just having a quick snack of beans on toast before heading out for the evening.

How ya, Gary?

All good here, thanks. My eyes have settled down now after the tests this morning, so I will have no worries about the 100+ mile drive I will have to make this evening to deliver a training session.

G'day, young Albert!

I may mention that to my optometrist when I go for my next appointment (they're normally every 12 months). I have to sign a disclaimer every time I am tested - apparently because the drops could have unforeseen side-effects. It could be that the likelihood of such side-effects might be increased by the addition of a second drug? Who knows? I just do as I am told in these circumstances.

Hey, Dugh! Hey, clo! It's a cold, overcast, and very windy day here in the west of Ireland. Looks like it will rain later, as well. Only good thing about it is that I had my retinas tested this morning, and the consultant had to put drops in my eyes to enlarge my pupils to enable her to take the photographs of my retinas. I may have had to wait four or five hours for the effects to wear off, before it would have been safe for me to drive the approximately twelve miles (20 kilometres) home, had the days been bright and sunny.

I'm reminded of reading, sometime back in the 1960's, of some scientific research that involved the milking of mice to (if I remember correctly) develop a cure for some human disease or other. Apparently it was so difficult and time consuming to actually milk the mice that the milk itself was costing a small fortune. In one of the scientific journals that was discussing this research, someone wrote a poem based on Rabbie Burns' famous poem To a Mouse which went something along these lines:- Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie, Art thou feelin' better now? Thou shouldst gae an' have a feastie, Thou art worth a mint o'er yon ould cow!

Thanks for this story, Jason. And thanks for not keeping us waiting too long for each chapter. I'm not surprised at all. Rather happy, to tell you the truth. As I intimated in my comment to the previous chapter (The Road Not Traveled), I also don't like stories that climax only to dawdle in post-coital drudgery (I love the way you put that, as well!).

Hey, Page

Hey Randy! No more than the little toe rag deserves! Hey, young Albert. How you this evening?