the choric song of the lotus heelers

Ah midnight.
The tired aches recede.
I've had a day with my nephews the boo hoo twins.
They are teaching me slowly the riddle of life.
It's like in Conan The Barbarian only less humane.
(Conan had to learn the riddle of steel - Ed note.)
(I still say he had it easy - Heelers note.)
I am the leavings of it.
And in a few hours I've to get up for an early morning airport run with the merry widows.
The merry widows Sonia and Sondra, are American friends of my Aunty Eileen who have been visiting us here in Ireland for the past two years.
Weeks. Two weeks. Not two years.
They've been visiting for two weeks.
But if felt like two years.
They bring new meaning to the word insufferable.
No.
They bring the old meaning.
But new depth.
I don't know why I volunteered to drive them to the airport.
I guess I just wanted to be sure they got on the plane.
Arf arf.
A little merry widow humour there.
My feminist cousin Pauline christened them the merry widows by the way.
Of course I find this name hugely amusing and am intent on passing it off as one of my own.
The merry widows.
Two less merry women you could not meet.
Anyhoo.
I don't want to go casting no aspersions.
Come the dawn Heelers and widows will be airporting together.
A one hour drive.
We should have plenty of time to explore each other's boundaries.
If you enlist you must soldier.
And now...
Bedtime for Bonzo.