Meaning Of Life

Monday 23rd May, 2016

Michael,

Here is a CD I have entitled as above, a talk on Newstalk radio of a couple of weeks ago by Paul Froese, an American sociologist talking about various people’s thoughts on and approaches to that subject, in a series called Talking Books, Sunday nights at seven. It is quite good, an overview, although I have not given it my full attention as yet. Froese is in conversation with the rather good female presenter, whose name I have not to hand. A bit under an hour in length, I hope you find it of interest.

Also, a booklet, Bulloch Harbour, Past and Present, which George bought from the local second-hand and oldies shop, Beat That. They sell vinyl and cd music as well as books, and have a good stock. I bought an Eddie Cochran ep which I had in my youth, four great tracks and a great cover, twenty euros although he first asked forty. I still have my original ep, but I can’t find its cover.   I bought some LP’s by the Clancy Brothers there fairly recently, originals, good condition, fair prices. Great to have such a shop in town.

I am not enclosing any of my writing with this package, I am otherwise occupied. A seventeen-year-old David is coming at four thirty for his second visit to help me with my computer problems. Because of him you get this CD, he downloaded software allowing me to copy audio from the internet. Which I will be able to do in future any time I like.

Possibly next week I will send some recent writing of mine, I have been quite busy, as well as that book of photos of Dublin in the seventies George got at Beat That. What is life without something to look forward to?

I am slightly pressed for time, having to walk to the post office to buy an envelope for this package, stamp it, address it and collect my pension of last week. The time now being approximately two thirty. Perhaps a cup of coffee in the delicatessen and be back in time for David. Two Davids are better than one.

How shall I fill this space? Should I leave it to your imagination? I thought of writing a piece called Conversation, partly or wholly imaginary, a conversation between three, myself doing most of the talking, as usual, the other participants being real people, whatever that means. Based on true life incidents. The truth is stranger than fiction.

Might I add, the truth is no stranger to fiction? When not in a pub I dream I am in a pub.   Our little life is rounded in a dream. Copyright William Shakespeare. Real life? You couldn’t make it up. I wish I’d said that.

Getting technical, this had gone on to another page, so I shrunk the font from14 to 12, can’t waste trees. The Green police wouldn’t like it.

The other Michael will get this first, as an email. He is compiling a dossier on you. If I don’t stop now I will have to shrink fonts again and you will need a magnifying glass.                  Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes,

David (in real life Tich) Ennis