Thought for today:
"They say that you only fall in love once, but I know that cannot be true, for every time I look at my wife, Sheila, I fall in love all over again!
It has been said that one needs to kiss many a frog before they meet their prince. I can see the truth in that proverb. I also know that whereas there are those sweethearts who fall in love in their youth, marry young and stay in love for the rest of their lives, such love is a rarity. For me, I have always found it easy to 'fall in love', perhaps, some might think, too easy for my own good. I am probably one of those romantic people who is in love with the thought of 'being in love'; or could I possibly be the type of person who finds love in almost everyone they encounter?
When I was a boy, my mother would frequently boast about this handsome young man she used to 'go around' with at the school she attended back in Portlaw, before she met my father. He reportedly had a fine head of black, wavy hair, hazel brown eyes and a smile that never left his face. According to mum, he was a fine dancer and was fun to be around.
With my mum being the earthy type of person, I was never quite sure when she used to say, 'went around with', whether she meant 'courted' or 'went around the back of the bicycle shed' with. Like the majority of Irish men, the young man who first got my mum's heart skipping a beat was known as Paddy. I won't disclose his surname as I'm sure he will have some relatives/descendants still living in Portlaw, and for the purpose of this post, I'll call him 'Portlaw Paddy.'
Anyway, my mother used to frequently tell me and the rest of my siblings about this most handsome man that was there for the marrying had she not chosen my father instead! And whenever she and dad had a row, his name might be thrown up as an example of how rosy mum's life might have been had she chosen the right Paddy.(Please note that my father was also referred to as Paddy throughout his life).
During our upbringing, mum would frequently take her three oldest children on a holiday to Portlaw to stay with my grandparents. I will never forget one year in my mid-teens whilst on holiday in Portlaw. I occasioned to meet 'Portlaw Paddy' whose Adonis looks my mother had extolled for most of my young life. I saw 'Portlaw Paddy' in the pub one day, but didn't tell mum. I found it impossible not to engineer a photograph with mum's first love at its centre before I returned back home.
The upshot was that the years had not been kind to 'Portlaw Paddy. His early ambitions to one day have his own farm had come to nothing, and just as this dream of his had faded, so had his one-time good looks! He was now bald-headed with a heavily-scarred eyebrow he had picked up in a pub brawl, and a toothless set of gums which contorted the shape of his mouth, as he didn't wear dentures, or had forgotten to put them back in that day. Though mum had also been on holiday with us that same fortnight, she never once mentioned 'Portlaw Paddy', and neither did I. I never knew if she had seen him out and about, but if she had, she either didn't recognise him, or she did, but didn't want to say so!
I returned from holiday with my secret photograph of mum's first love, ready to show her the very next time she mentioned the man with the stunning looks who she could have married instead of my dad (whose only dancing he had ever done was seemingly around a football field). I was determined that the very next time mum was telling me and my two oldest sisters 'what could' have been had she married 'Portlaw Paddy', that I'd whip out the snapshot and show her 'what would' have been!
I never did show mum my up-to-date photograph of 'Portlaw Paddy', and after he'd died some years later, I destroyed it, just in case my sheer devilment would one day become overwhelming and tempt me to use it. The sad truth about this tale is while I know how 'Portlaw Paddy' looked the day I finally met him face-to-face in the Portlaw pub, I'll never really know what he used to look like when my mum first met him, 35 years earlier. Had mum intended to make a jackass out of her children with her fanciful fairy tales? Or had 'Portlaw Paddy' indeed been the hottest potato she'd ever pulled from the fire of passion, or was his good looks and fine head of hair simply part of my dear mother's vivid imagination?" William Forde: December 6th, 2017.
"They say that you only fall in love once, but I know that cannot be true, for every time I look at my wife, Sheila, I fall in love all over again!
It has been said that one needs to kiss many a frog before they meet their prince. I can see the truth in that proverb. I also know that whereas there are those sweethearts who fall in love in their youth, marry young and stay in love for the rest of their lives, such love is a rarity. For me, I have always found it easy to 'fall in love', perhaps, some might think, too easy for my own good. I am probably one of those romantic people who is in love with the thought of 'being in love'; or could I possibly be the type of person who finds love in almost everyone they encounter?
When I was a boy, my mother would frequently boast about this handsome young man she used to 'go around' with at the school she attended back in Portlaw, before she met my father. He reportedly had a fine head of black, wavy hair, hazel brown eyes and a smile that never left his face. According to mum, he was a fine dancer and was fun to be around.
With my mum being the earthy type of person, I was never quite sure when she used to say, 'went around with', whether she meant 'courted' or 'went around the back of the bicycle shed' with. Like the majority of Irish men, the young man who first got my mum's heart skipping a beat was known as Paddy. I won't disclose his surname as I'm sure he will have some relatives/descendants still living in Portlaw, and for the purpose of this post, I'll call him 'Portlaw Paddy.'
Anyway, my mother used to frequently tell me and the rest of my siblings about this most handsome man that was there for the marrying had she not chosen my father instead! And whenever she and dad had a row, his name might be thrown up as an example of how rosy mum's life might have been had she chosen the right Paddy.(Please note that my father was also referred to as Paddy throughout his life).
During our upbringing, mum would frequently take her three oldest children on a holiday to Portlaw to stay with my grandparents. I will never forget one year in my mid-teens whilst on holiday in Portlaw. I occasioned to meet 'Portlaw Paddy' whose Adonis looks my mother had extolled for most of my young life. I saw 'Portlaw Paddy' in the pub one day, but didn't tell mum. I found it impossible not to engineer a photograph with mum's first love at its centre before I returned back home.
The upshot was that the years had not been kind to 'Portlaw Paddy. His early ambitions to one day have his own farm had come to nothing, and just as this dream of his had faded, so had his one-time good looks! He was now bald-headed with a heavily-scarred eyebrow he had picked up in a pub brawl, and a toothless set of gums which contorted the shape of his mouth, as he didn't wear dentures, or had forgotten to put them back in that day. Though mum had also been on holiday with us that same fortnight, she never once mentioned 'Portlaw Paddy', and neither did I. I never knew if she had seen him out and about, but if she had, she either didn't recognise him, or she did, but didn't want to say so!
I returned from holiday with my secret photograph of mum's first love, ready to show her the very next time she mentioned the man with the stunning looks who she could have married instead of my dad (whose only dancing he had ever done was seemingly around a football field). I was determined that the very next time mum was telling me and my two oldest sisters 'what could' have been had she married 'Portlaw Paddy', that I'd whip out the snapshot and show her 'what would' have been!
I never did show mum my up-to-date photograph of 'Portlaw Paddy', and after he'd died some years later, I destroyed it, just in case my sheer devilment would one day become overwhelming and tempt me to use it. The sad truth about this tale is while I know how 'Portlaw Paddy' looked the day I finally met him face-to-face in the Portlaw pub, I'll never really know what he used to look like when my mum first met him, 35 years earlier. Had mum intended to make a jackass out of her children with her fanciful fairy tales? Or had 'Portlaw Paddy' indeed been the hottest potato she'd ever pulled from the fire of passion, or was his good looks and fine head of hair simply part of my dear mother's vivid imagination?" William Forde: December 6th, 2017.
