SORRY TO HEAR you’re having trouble with the youngest,” the sales rep commented on overhearing a conversation about my tumble on the Alan, “how many do you have?” “Thirteen” I replied.
He seemed surprised. “You started early so, when did you marry?” Now my turn to be quizzical. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’ I thought, the pain making me sigh. “You both survived the crash though?” he inquired. “I don’t know, my Alan never came back from West Cork.” Continue reading Trouble with the youngest