Wednesday 19 September 2018

Roddy Doyle's Charlie Savage: Not strictly ballroom

 

Ilustration by Ben Hickey
Ilustration by Ben Hickey
Charlie Savage

Charlie Savage

Myself and the wife are just back from the hospital. We were there with identical injuries. We even shared the same ambulance, and saved the State a few bob. It must the sign of a successful marriage - is it? - when yourself and your beloved can sit side by side in A+E, sharing the groans and bandages. And after all that, a night and most of a day in sunny Beaumont, we're still talking to each other. Although in my case that's not easy, because I bit off the tip of my tongue. And the wife still isn't certain who I am.

Let me explain.

The little grandson is going to dance lessons, in a place that used to be an office suppliers, at the back of an industrial estate that doesn't really have any industries left in it. Anyway, it - that's the Itchy Feet Junior Dance Academy - looks a bit threadbare at the moment. Actually, it's like stepping into the GPO in 1916, the day after the lads surrendered. So they need to raise funds for a few cans of paint and a ceiling.

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