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Space to Think, a new book celebrating ten years of the Dublin Review of Books More Information 


Martina Evans


Old Danny boy suffered from Real Depression, real depression was when you couldn't get out of bed and you had to take tablets for it and Bertha complained about him wearing the pink shirt. Once I looked out the bedroom window and Agnes and Old Danny Boy were lit up by the BP sign, the pump was purring and Agnes was filling his golden Cortina. He was like Danny and the pink shirt just suited him, his black and grey hair sat on the collar. Justin had said that Old Danny Boy's hair was a bit long for an ouldfella and I said I didn't think he looked that old. Agnes and Justin looked at me and when Bertha threw her eyes to Heaven, they were like blue and white marbles and I carefully watched them go rolling up. That was to stop myself going red, I had a few tricks that I used like that and Agnes said that good looks ran in that family like TB and Justin said he'd met stupid young fellas in his time but Danny Boy took some beating and when we were walking to Mass, Danny passed up in a tractor, wearing a new denim shirt. I stared at the spot of altar candle grease on my desert boot. Bertha said that was another disgrace, working on a Sunday and Agnes said he was a poor thing, he'd no mother.