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At Home With The Guy With The Hand

The Friday Night Philosophers’ Club

People say that my 91-year-old mother leads a more full, active life than I do. They may be right. She is, after all, not a writer; a  quietish, retiring type who can only be explained away with reference to, ‘The Spectrum.’ She is an extrovert whose life is full of people, plans and places to go. One part of her regular social life is the Friday night visit from a neighbouring pensioner.

To me, this seems like a reverse hostage situation, where the host is held hostage by their guest. The guest feels exactly the same and, though free to leave whenever they want, they are emotionally trapped until given a special benediction, a sign to say, ‘until next week.’ Does such a theory put me firmly on the ‘Spectrum?’ Or is there a more sinister, underling problem hiding in the background?   

After fifty years of being neighbours, ritual plays a large part in their Friday night sessions. The night is flagged in advance by the Thursday telephone call to confirm the event, though, in reality, it is about the bottle. This should be a Prosecco, or a Cava, white or rosé, it doesn’t matter; it’s bubbles and alcohol content which take top billing in the wine department. Once it has been decided who is bringing the bottle to the event, it is time to organise the nibbles. At the farmers’ market, where these are sourced, I am invariably asked at the three baking stalls, what the guest would like to eat, only to have every suggestion dismissed. My mother prefers to choose her own weapons when it comes to killing with sweetness.

Nibbles ready, bottle chilled, it’s time for the Friday Night Philosophers’ Club, not to mention a visit from the unvaccinated Harriette. Even as she crosses the threshold, before a cork is popped or pulled, or a screw cap turned, she will launch into her first philosophical investigation of the evening with her weekly opening gambit.

Harriette does not believe in the vaccine. In this she is guided by a higher power, Christine Gallagher; a mistic who talks about herself in the third person, perhaps because her body is merely a channel for ‘Him’ to speak through. Her sole purpose, it seems, is to ‘Deliver Heaven’s Message’ to the people of the Earth. In these times of the internet overwhelm, Christine is not above using Ireland’s Eye, a provincial magazine, to spread her gospel. Through this outlet Harriet has discovered that the vaccine is, ‘The Mark of Satan.’   

“The Mark of Satan,” repeats a wide-eyed Harriet, reflecting on Christine’s message from above, even before the first glass is poured, “What do you think of that, Mary?”

“The Catholic church has no problem with Darwin,” comes my mother’s reply, strategically using her deafness as a deflection tool to avoid an argument.

“It’s my immune system,” Harriet tells me accepting her first glass of alcoholic effervescence. “It’s low. I can’t have the vaccine because it’s low.”

“You studied Catechesis too,” continues my mother, “So you know that the church has no problem with Darwin.”

“It’s that Guillain-Barré, Mary, you know, I’d have it in a flash, only for that.”

“Oh, this is good,” my mother replies, toasting her friend after her first sip from the glass.

“I got that in Downey’s.”

“It’s very good,” my mother reassures her. “There’s a documentary about Diana for later.”

With that, it’s time to flee, though when I occasionally pass-through, to pour an additional glass or two, nuggets of conversation grab my attention.

 “They got me the new Bob Woodward in the library…”

“Prince Philip and Christine Keeler were, you know…”

“Can you believe a nun saying that Trump was bringing people to God…?”

“She said she’d take my driver’s licence away from me, Mary.”

“Don’t worry about her. She’s had to retire because she’s going blind…”

“Somebody put one of those dishes in my tree. They’re watching my every move.”

“Hillary Clinton has a new book out and I’ve asked them to hold it for me in the…”

It seems, as I eves drop, that there are rules to keeping a long-term friendship alive. First, serve your wine chilled. Second, always allow the other person to speak without interruption. Third, ignore everything the other person has to say, on every topic. And, lastly, politics and religion can be discussed, so long as you adhere to the first three rules.

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