Halloween has changed – certainly in this port of the world, meaning obviously Killiney. God, I can still remember a time when kids would call to the door dressed in costumes and say: "Sorry, we don't accept chocolate – only cash. And no coins because my chiropractor says heavy weights are bad for my musculoskeletal health."
That’s all gone, of course. These days, the kids don’t even bother their orses calling to the door. They just email us their bank details – account number, sort code, BIC and IBAN.
Hey, you can call them Generation Snowflake if you want – at least I get to watch the TV for the whole night without any interruptions.
As a matter of fact, the caller we had just before seven o’clock on Monday night was the first we’d had for about three years. I don’t know what she was dressed up as, but I literally screamed when I saw her standing there.
I was like, “Aaarrrggghhh!” and then I was all, “Oh my God, you’re revolting! Jesus, I can’t even look at you!”
“Very funny,” my old dear went. “Are you going to let me in or are we going to stand here exchanging insults?”
I opened the door wide enough to let her – which ended up being very wide indeed. I was there, “When did you get back?” because she’s been in the States since, like, Christmas?
“This morning,” she went.
"I'll rephrase that – why are you back? You've definitely put on weight, by the way."
“I’m back to see my beautiful grandchildren. Oh, how I’ve missed them. Honor and, em… the twins.”
“They’re not twins. They’re triplets.”
“Triplets – yes, of course.”
“A handy way for you to remember the number would be to think to yourself, How many sheets to the wind am I right now? Oh, yes – it’s three!”
“Ross, I’ve had a long flight – can I please see my grandchildren?”
I led her down to the kitchen, where Sorcha was fixing supper. When Honor saw her, she let out a scream. “Don’t be frightened,” I went. “It’s just latex and make-up – but you can call her Granny.”
Honor ran across the kitchen and threw her orms around her. They’ve always been close. Two wagons.
“Can I have some money?” Honor went, giving her the big, bovine eyes.
The old dear was like, "I was thinking I might take you to Dundrum tomorrow to buy you lots and lots of lovely things!"
“Thanks, Gran!”
Then Sorcha did the same – hugged her, I mean. She didn’t ask her for money. She was all, “It’s so good to see you, Fionnuala! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
The old dear went, “I wanted it to be a lovely, lovely surprise!” and then she broke out of Sorcha’s death grip and spotted the triplets sitting there in their high chairs. “Oh, will you look at them!” she went, looking suddenly confused. At first I thought she was possibly seeing four of them – like I said, there was a whiff of gin off her that would singe your nose hairs. Then I realised she’d simply forgotten their names.
“Poverty, Chastity and Obedience,” I went.
And she was there, “Yes, that’s it – look how big they’ve grown!”
I was like, “Okay, that’s the pleasantries out of the way – why are you even here?”
Sorcha went, “Ross, don’t be rude!” because she’s always been a sucker for the old dear’s act.
“I’m not being rude,” I went. “I’m just wondering why she’s suddenly back from the States and in my home, terrifying my children.”
The woman was bearing down on them and they were looking at her like she was a Tongan hooker. They’ll never be frightened of anyone if they eventually play front row.
And that’s when I spotted it. Okay, I feel sick even describing it to you, but here goes. She was wearing, like, low-cut trousers, over the top of which I noticed she was also wearing essentially a shoelace for underwear, then above that she had one of those lower back tattoos –we’re talking a rose, like Cheryl what’s her name’s, then this sort of, like, pattern either side of it that stretched from flank to flank.
I could taste vomit at the back of my throat. I was there, “Is that… Oh my God, is that real?”
Sorcha was like, "It's absolutely beautiful, Fionnuala! Oh my God, it so suits you!"
The old dear was there, “I had it done a few weeks ago – to celebrate my 50th birthday!”
Fiftieth? She has a neck like Ruby Walsh’s understuff.
I was like, “Okay, I’m going to let that one go – but only because I want an answer to my original question.”
She stands up – thank fock.
“I’m here for your father!” she went. “He’s got this court date coming up.”
This is over the whole gender quotas issue. He’s taking a case to try to prove that the Constitution is unconstitutional. “That’ll be thrown out of court in about seven minutes,” I went.
She was there, “There’s also this business with Denis O’Brien.”
"Who's suing him for copying his hair style. Fair focks to Denis – that's what I say. I seem to be the only person in this country's who's on his actual side."
"Well, I'm on your father's side. And I want him to know that," she went. Then she smiled. Jesus, she looked like the pterodactyl that tried to eat Katie McGrath in Jurassic World. "Especially now with Helen gone."
I laughed – I ended up, like, having to? Because it all suddenly made sense to me.
“You’re going to try to get back in there,” I went. “That’s why you’re here.”
She was like, “Ross, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Your father and I said we would remain friends after the divorce and that’s what we’ve done. I’m simply here to support him.”
But I could see it in her face – she’s here to try to weasel her way back into the old man’s life, pick her moment, then jump his bones.
“A woman of your age,” I went. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
She bent down again to make nonsense-talk to the triplets. I got another flash of her G-er and her rose tatt and I had no choice but to run to the jacks and make an oral sacrifice to Roca, the porcelain princess.