"Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, if the women don't get you, the whisky must.."
Not just an impious pray for Lent, but literally true, as I noticed the car had a fine layer of dust on it this morning. Apparently Saharan, if BBC Radio 4 is to believed.
Weather calm, wind nil, temperatures mild and the doves cooing..
One more totally boring etc. point from that book noted before, was that Radio Caroline's "father"
Ronan O'Rahilly was the grandson of the Irish rebel Michael O'Rahilly, immortalised by William Butler Yeats. Rebellion clearly ran in the family blood.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_O'Rahilly
Sing of the O'Rahilly,
Do not deny his right;
Sing a 'the' before his name;
Allow that he, despite
All those learned historians,
Established it for good;
He wrote out that word himself,
He christened himself with blood.
How goes the weather?
Sing of the O'Rahilly
That had such little sense
He told Pearse and Connolly
He'd gone to great expense
Keeping all the Kerry men
Out of that crazy fight;
That he might be there himself
Had travelled half the night.
How goes the weather?
'Am I such a craven that
I should not get the word
But for what some travelling man
Had heard I had not heard?'
Then on pearse and Connolly
He fixed a bitter look:
'Because I helped to wind the clock
I come to hear it strike.'
How goes the weather?
What remains to sing about
But of the death he met
Stretched under a doorway
Somewhere off Henry Street;
They that found him found upon
The door above his head
'Here died the O'Rahilly.
R.I.P.' writ in blood.
How goes the weather.?
