There are obvious signs of the passage of time and then there are the subtle ones, writes Colm O'Regan
Obvious ones include the greying. Even the greying starts out surreptitiously, behind the ears where it thinks you won’t notice it. It lurks there, whispering in the minds of other hairs, spreading dissatisfaction and sedition. Before you know it, you have a full-scale grey protest not seen since the time they tried to take away the over 70s medical card.
You might, as time passes, start wanting to walk with your hands clasped behind your back. As if pacing an imaginary sideline as a ‘maor’, a crafty fag nestled in one hand, warming the cupped palm on a bitterly cold League Sunday.
Or you are worrying disproportionately about the bins and if they don’t go out feeling a slight tremor in the fabric of society, a glimpse at chaos; while also annoyed that the crowd two doors down are CLEARLY not segregating and could feck up the whole lorry-load.
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