The inconsequential self

Outside the languid, summer days. were slipping by like pollen dust along pitted in the still ness of the listless water along thecanal and the summer was running out to the Loughs and beyond spent foolishly and recklessly to the estuary .

Outside the languid, summer days. were slipping by like pollen dust along pitted in the stillness of the listless water along thecanal and the summer was running out through the Loughs and beyond ;spent foolishly idly ,to the estuary and tp sea.

He had let her down so many times and realised that her new friendship with another officer was no longer a manoeuvre in her behalf, to cudgel him out of his inertia. He had never objected to the friendship though he could have taken the less peevish view that he was cheated as they started seeing one another while he was so overseas;

In any case she had been telling him so often that she was not getting any younger and she wanted more permanence and security in her life. She could not depend on him she said. And this is where he sought evasion in the conversation. The idea of permanence in anything quite terrified him. >,

- That’s the problem with you . You don’t care enough for me . You don’t care for ,me . You don’t look after me . Every woman needs to be looked after .

She turned away. And he knew without looking that the tenderness had yielded to a stern primness. Those brown soft eyes yeteveralert and smiling would have darkened and welled up .

But hereyesoften ran an independent existence to her other the other facial features which unlike some people scarcely betrayed any sadness.None of the suffused face others had in sorrow. This suggested a certain nobility but also a lack of gentleness,

He looked away and knew she was already gone . He knew that she really ddint enen want him to compete for her favours. Not now . It was all too late

She turned away and he knew there was no ned now for further words. It surprised him now how sudden this thing had being going on . It was’nt at all sudden . She had made up her minf maybe weeks ago, and in his own self absorption he just didn’t notive .

The canal drifted on like a soft lullaby never pushing; And he remembered a girl in Connemara singing this haunting lullaby years ago , with such a pure unimpeded voice. Even her youth gave her no need to push the lament ; the air was there ; haunting and the noted so exact , and sometimes flattened where you predicted they might soar, but you could wait for it.. The saddest notes you had to wait for and the subtlest singer just rose to these notes effortlessly and left you with a plunging heart that was almost guilt while she sang on.

Like the canal now. Effortless; full and languid; sorrowfully enduring. And these were all in the water too on this June evening;

Over the traffic it flowed oblivious; in a time of its own relentless, unstoppable life, through the high sun and as the sun drifted low through the sometimes drifting tang of hops from the brewery.. Summer and winter it had sang this endless song on forever over the decades..

He should have realised that she had been drifting away for some time. And he had never tried to stopher ; never objecting to her meeting or seeing him ; when all along she was falling in love with him ; yes out of love but also of necessity , the necessity to answer her biological needs, her yearning for a family of her own her need to move on from this pointless existence ; one drunken night to another ; one sober day of joy and the inevitable relapse; she had had enough of all that. It was no longer daring or alluring; just a dead end monotony andshe had wanted out . He had never stopped to think that she might leave him for anyone , least of all him, he thought it was all aruse to get hime to look more appreciaticely at her ; take her more seriously, and he had no time tfor anything suggesting permanence or indeed a change from the way he was.. just drifting .

The holiday in Cyprus ; but how much of it was a blank; the days in the shelbourne in November meeting her after work.. the messes all over the city ..

Only the effluvia from the brewery, which came pressing down, suggested to him that he was depressed. That his comicry was over and his whatever attraction was now as much as the dust of the hops gnawing on the air .No wind no humour in the hailing hectic frenetic noise of the city – and all of this made no difference to him whatever; He might be knocked down by a bus , but it would continue as before , only he could not continue like the predictable rhythm of the traffic

He was as remote from the traffic then as one day he remembered when his boat had capsized , and he was looking back towards the promenade and it struck his with a sudden ferocity then how inconsequential his life to those buzzing along the promenade and that allhis life was really always destined for this inevitable moment. That he would drown and that tomorrow those same cars which were speeding along to and from town , that to their drivers and passengers he was of no consequence at all. . And his death would be of none and that next week it would be as before without him.

And he was as less consequence to all these other people rushing home through the park along the canal and that whatever befell him now changed nothing of the propose of their lives, You could get the same feeling looking down at cars from an airplane they all had a purpose but you had no involvement with that purpose whatsoever.

- That’s the problem with you . You don’t care enough for me . You don’t care for ,me . You don’t look after me . Every woman needs to be looked after .

She turned away. And he knew without looking that the tenderness had yielded to a stern primness. Those brown soft eyes yeteveralert and smiling would have darkened and welled up .

But hereyesoften ran an independent existence to her other the other facial features which unlike some people scarcely betrayed any sadness.None of the suffused face others had in sorrow. This suggested a certain nobility but also a lack of gentleness,

He looked away and knew she was already gone . He knew that she really ddint enen want him to compete for her favours. Not now . It was all too late

She turned away and he knew there was no ned now for further words. It surprised him now how sudden this thing had being going on . It was’nt at all sudden . She had made up her minf maybe weeks ago, and in his own self absorption he just didn’t notive .

The canal drifted on like a soft lullaby never pushing; And he remembered a girl in Connemara singing this haunting lullaby years ago , with such a pure unimpeded voice. Even her youth gave her no need to push the lament ; the air was there ; haunting and the noted so exact , and sometimes flattened where you predicted they might soar, but you could wait for it.. The saddest notes you had to wait for and the subtlest singer just rose to these notes effortlessly and left you with a plunging heart that was almost guilt while she sang on.

Like the canal now. Effortless; full and languid; sorrowfully enduring. And these were all in the water too on this June evening;

Over the traffic it flowed oblivious; in a time of its own relentless, unstoppable life, through the high sun and as the sun drifted low through the sometimes drifting tang of hops from the brewery.. Summer and winter it had sang this endless song on forever over the decades..

He should have realised that she had been drifting away for some time. And he had never tried to stopher ; never objecting to her meeting or seeing him ; when all along she was falling in love with him ; yes out of love but also of necessity , the necessity to answer her biological needs, her yearning for a family of her own her need to move on from this pointless existence ; one drunken night to another ; one sober day of joy and the inevitable relapse; she had had enough of all that. It was no longer daring or alluring; just a dead end monotony andshe had wanted out . He had never stopped to think that she might leave him for anyone , least of all him, he thought it was all aruse to get hime to look more appreciaticely at her ; take her more seriously, and he had no time tfor anything suggesting permanence or indeed a change from the way he was.. just drifting .

The holiday in Cyprus ; but how much of it was a blank; the days in the shelbourne in November meeting her after work.. the messes all over the city ..

Only the effluvia from the brewery, which came pressing down, suggested to him that he was depressed. That his comicry was over and his whatever attraction was now as much as the dust of the hops gnawing on the air .No wind no humour in the hailing hectic frenetic noise of the city – and all of this made no difference to him whatever; He might be knocked down by a bus , but it would continue as before , only he could not continue like the predictable rhythm of the traffic

He was as remote from the traffic then as one day he remembered when his boat had capsized , and he was looking back towards the promenade and it struck his with a sudden ferocity then how inconsequential his life to those buzzing along the promenade and that allhis life was really always destined for this inevitable moment. That he would drown and that tomorrow those same cars which were speeding along to and from town , that to their drivers and passengers he was of no consequence at all. . And his death would be of none and that next week it would be as before without him.

And he was as less consequence to all these other people rushing home through the park along the canal and that whatever befell him now changed nothing of the propose of their lives, You could get the same feeling looking down at cars from an airplane they all had a purpose but you had no involvement with that purpose whatsoever.