They had shark in the market this morning but I didn’t buy any because I was afraid it might have a piece of Robert Shaw inside it. Or Richard Dreyfuss.
I didn’t bother with the prawns either, or the hake. For some reason, the word hake puts me off my food, though you must be wondering why I have no problem with ling. Strange but true.
The pleasant gentleman filled a bag with ling for me and then I called over to the bread stall where I picked up a loaf of home-made brown bread from the nice Scottish lady who recognised me from my shadow.
That was a bit disconcerting.
Aren’t you Bock the Robber?
You’re Bock the Robber. I know you from your silhouette.
Jesus, give me the bread and let me out of here.
That’s my loaves and fishes sorted out, so then I picked up a nice piece of cheese –
but no cakes, because I’m eating healthily for now.
No Saturday morning would be complete without some daffodils –
– or a coffee in Nancy’s and a read of the paper.
And after that, what better way to pass a glorious sunny afternoon than to wander down by the river, stroll around the Hunt Museum –
– admire the peaceful Shannon –
– and wave to a passing boatman on his way to some great discovery.
He just passed down the Abbey River coming from who knows where? Maybe he rowed the whole way from Lough Derg. Maybe he came from Norway. I don’t know.
There’s nowhere in Limerick that you don’t glimpse Thomond Park. Munster are playing Connacht there this evening but I didn’t get tickets because I have some other things to do. I’ll watch it on TV.
Thomond Park is a fortress, but King John’ castle is a fortress of an entirely different order. A symbol of limitless royal power. The swaggering imprint of Norman England on its neighbouring island.
People still find time to feed swans, I’m glad to say, and to lean on railings talking about inconsequential things..
There’s always some shadowy sinister figure.
On a day like this, people find time to wander around town, shopping-
– or just sharing a meal.
But nobody ever forgets the real business facing us in coming weeks: the European Cup.
Some are calmer than others-
– and some are just downright falling over they’re so laid back.
This is St Michael slaying a serpent. I often wish he’d take a break and come down to Nancy’s for a beer. Let someone else slay serpents just for one day.
Also on Bock: