Ah well, said O'Reilly

That phrase "Ah well," said O'Reilly, popped into my head months ago and would not leave me alone, till I finally did something about it. Unbetaed, of course and translated by me into english. I posted the german original at happy-size-community.de

They were all sittin in Finnegan's kitchen, the wet boots by the door and the feet in their thick woolen, socks stuck out towards the peat fire. The more or less aromatic odors combined to an interesting medley, unique to the many tiny cottages all over Ireland, in which old, widowed men lived: Peat fire, wet wool, old-men-smells, stinky feet, homemade alcohol (Poteen cures everything, acushla!), boiled green cabbage, bread fried in rancid bacon-grease, homefries and farts. As I said, not very appetizing but interesting. The widow Conolly came three times a week, pretending to battle Finnegan's chaos. But to be honest, when she tied her kerchief over her steel-gray curls, grabbed her umbrella and swung up onto her rickety bicycle, it always looked worse than before.

Finnegan dug in his ear and dedicated himself to his guests again. "Ah well," said O'Reilly just then, "that's how it is: There's no way around that the Pope is a Cat'lick." Campbell grunted and Shaunessy giggled. They sat a long time, staring into the peat fire, lost in thought, ocassionally sipping from glasses and teacups of poteen.

"Ah well," said O'Reilly again, "remember how we always complained about our wives, when they demanded we shave and got in the tub, whether it was necessary or not. Dragged us to church and always nagged us not to speak with our mouth full?" The four other nodded. "Ah well," said O'Reilly, "Was good then, wasn't it?" All nodded, exept Conolly, who still lived with his mother and sister-in-law under one roof. He coughed. "What are you getting at, Danny?" he asked then. "Ah well, "said O'Reilley, "I forgot it, now....."

The men sighed, drank their poteen, stared into the fire, dwelling on their thoughts, while a gentle, irish summershower fell quietly down onto the roof of a tiny cottage full of old, widowed men.