Pat Ingoldsby

Pat Ingoldsby is still alive and selling his books in the city centre. I saw him other day and he saved himself yet another Euro by remembering my name (the blaggard) So he still hasn't published the book that he mentioned me in. And he has been warned that I will sue for libel if there is anything less than wonderful about me in it. So should I remember him in a song? or a Short story? Or one of those little philosophical things that I write? Hmm I am kept on edge. One of the most famous of the present day poets and he is a truly nice and gentle man and his wit and his kindness when I have not always been receptive to these things spurs me to the point where I feel I should recognise him in print also, but alas, it is my own personal snobbery that makes me turn from him and walk into myself again. He said that he wants my accent when I die, and I asked him if we could perhaps come to a pre-death arrangement and all he ever wants to do is smile. I missed the man for the few months he hawked his wares in Howth. And why Howth of all places? Isn't that the place where Gay Byrne dwells? And I guess he would like to be in Barra once again and frightening the sheep with his version of the Rocky Road to Dublin. God Bless him.