Double Vision with Charlie Adley
In case you were wondering, I only squeezed another 24 hours out of my manic upswing, beyond the writing of last week’s colyoom. As predicted, a comedown arrived, accompanied by a collapse of mood and energy, but nothing too extreme; nothing a couple of solitary hours on a beach wouldn’t solve.
Off I head, back to my old stomping grounds. The cliffs are dark and defiant; the sand white, strewn with felled forests of diverse seaweeds.
I walk up to the distant headland, with the cold wet wind behind me, and sit on a rock. Then I choose another rock out there, at the water’s edge, and watch and marvel at how quickly the tide is pulling in.
This is my meditation, my mindfulness if you must: I just call it ‘sitting on a rock’.
Waves gradually encircle my staring rock, offering the illusion that it’s drifting out into the ocean. Once the water has risen enough to completely cover it I stand, stretch and realise I’m bloomin’ freezing.
Time to head to a nearby town for a cuppa and a toastie.
Into a pub I’ve visited for over 25 years, a place where sentimental memories abound, but today the lass behind the bar tells me she can’t do a toasted sandwich ’til 12:30.
There’s a couple eating soup and brown bread to my left, and over there a fella is tucking into his Full Irish, so I ask her if she is serving food.
Sticking her chin up and out towards me, she charmlessly states:
“Breakfast.”
At which point I put on my coat and leave, frosted with sadness.
Off down the road to another pub where far more locals are found: always a good sign. Loads of young smiley staff are whizzing around and when I thank her for bringing my tea she says:
“You’re very welcome!”
To read Charlie’s column in full, please see this week’s Galway City Tribune.
