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One of the main reasons for this French trip, this swim upstream back to the source, was the deadline of going to see my granny before she sinks further into the slowsands of dementia.

She did recognise me. Or rather she did recognise a version of me in her muddled past-cum-present.

Poor Brigitte. She is not in a good place. Physically, she is in as good a place as could be expected, given the circumstances.
But in her mind, she is in distress.

She catches glimpses of her current state.

She can feel herself sinking ever deeper.

And she cannot put it into words.

She cannot demand relief.

art, death, life lesson, love, monochrome, parenting, photography, portrait

Brigitte

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art, death, he died for our sins, homemade festival in one's back garden, life lesson, monochrome, parenting, photography, travel

Three brothers

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The three brothers R were all born in the house next to the cemetery, there, in the background.

And now they all rest side by side, here, in the foreground. Jean-Marie, André, Raymond.

Three lives closely entertwined, from start to finish, within a hundred yards.

Things were a lot more localised, back in the days.

This sort of thing could not happen nowadays. No way.

There is no WiFi in the old house…

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Newgrange

What a place.

I can’t believe that after 24 years in Ireland, I only got to see Newgrange today.

I wasn’t expecting to feel so emotional when entering the chamber. No matter how touristy it is, or the fact that you are herded in for your 12 minutes with 20 other visitors, it just hit me as I felt the stones of the narrow passageway.

5,000 years ago.

Jayzus. (He didn’t even exist!)

How primitive we are. How ill-equipped to leave a trace. How devoid of any sense of legacy.

At a time when life expectancy was barely beyond the age of 30, when the wheel didn’t exist, when wifi even didn’t exist (!!!), people had a much more tangible grasp of the future than we have.

Today I felt disgusted to the core with an age when fugacious excrement like he-who-shall-not-be-named gets elected into a position of extreme power, with a personal grasp of consequences and legacy that does not seem to go beyond the next tweet.

What do we ever do today for four generations down the line?

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Newgrange

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versus the height of the wellies.

The Atlantic won.

Again.

3-0

Again…

edf

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The depth of the ocean

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Blood running down her legs

Trinity Ball, the aftermath

Walking down Grafton street

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a splash of colour... quite literally, art, dublin, ireland, life lesson, photography, street photography

Hysterical Meal, by McDonald’s

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art, death, dublin, dun laoghaire, he died for our sins, hysterically happy, ireland, life lesson, unlucky

Chocolate ain’t good for you…

moused killed in a trap

Exit stage left, pet rodent…

As usual, I had mixed feelings this morning when I found out that our stowaway pet had seen an abrupt end to its cruise on the LÉ Mememe2U.

On the one hand, I cannot help but feel sorry for the little bugger. And there was much protesting from Mimi, who tried really really hard to make a case for the cute little rodent (“but Papa, it’s only trying to make a living, it’s only living off crumbs and little bits of food, it’s not bothering us at all”). And I totally see her point. It is a cute little creature, healthy, with a shiny coat, and shiny jet black eyes, and lovely little whiskers.

On the other hand, there is one word that does not have echoes of cuteness for me: infestation. And there is such a thing as an overdose of cuteness. When the cuteness reproduces at an alarming rate.

So farewell, cute little rodent. I know that the end was quick. Those mouse traps are terribly effective at achieving what they were designed to do. What a timeless, classic design too.

You had the choice between the cheese and the chocolate. Your sweet tooth was your Achilles’ heel.

You also helped me to reinforce a point to Mimi, the great defender of small cute rodents (she bought you at least three extra weeks of careless crumbs hoovering chez mememe2U): chocolate ain’t good for you.

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