Each week, Mammy Mary will be letting us know what’s been going on down her neck of the woods and making sure we’re kept up to date on all the scandal. She’s a gas woman altogether, so make sure you take a gawk at this week’s letter...
I haven’t a notion what’s gotten into Pádraig this week but I hope to God above that it sticks (unlike that feckin’ snow). Now, I don’t want to jinx anything by telling all of ye, but sure it’s the only bit of news I have! I’m not one to kiss and tell, so let’s just say that Saint Valentine is certainly doing his job this year.
I’m being made breakfast in bed every second day and once you get over the taste of burnt rashers and having more salt than eggs, it’s a lovely aul treat. He’s got Áine’s old iPod hooked up to the radio and it’s like Tom Jones, Elvis and Marvin Gaye are in the conservatory with us! He has me up dancing back and forth and I feel as light as a feather on my swollen ankles.
After 31 years of marriage, you think you have a fairly good idea of who someone is, but when I was putting away the laundry what did I find in his bedside locker only a box from this fancy lingerie shop in town. I’m an awful shade of puce even typing this - can you imagine me in a lacy pair of knickers?! It’s a bit of a waiting game now for Sunday evening. This Valentines malarkey has me at my wits’ end!
I’ll let ye know how it goes.