Craic On

Some of my relationships have brought great joy. Some have been transitory. Some have been long lasting and deep. None has been quite as shattering as my relationship with glass. Glass is the unseen menace in my world. Its attentions are largely unwanted and unwelcome. Just when you think you are over it, there it is again, making its presence felt. An early encounter with toughened glass left me bruised. It was the seventies and I doubt that smearing butter on the resulting lump on my forehead had any medicinal use. The lie down in a darkened room was probably more useful. Teenage folly meant that I needed more than butter to sooth the lacerations of my next encounter with glass. The resulting lump on the inside of my lip, born of over enthusiastic stitching, has served me well in moment of stress, giving me something else to chew on. A lucky escape came in trying to put my head through the invisible sash window of an upstairs bedroom in order to shout a fond farewell. At the point of contact, th