The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

Saturday, May 19, 2007

the honeymooners

Coffee with the Mammy in the Copper Kettle, a fashionable eatery on the southside of Kilcullen.
A thought strikes Ireland's greatest living poet.
"I wonder what Pauline's doing now," I murmur. "They're into their second week."
The Mammy nods meditatively.
"Sure why don't you give her a ring?" quoth she. "They're probably both bored out of their minds."
Pauline and Paul are honeymooning in the Outer Hebrides. Can they receive mobile phone calls from here to there? Do they want to?
It's the work of a moment to dial up the feminist cousin on my own mobile. No doubt she will be overjoyed to hear from me.
And lo!
Her phone is ringing.
And it's ringing.
Strangely she doesn't answer.
Presently it rings through to her voicemail.
Now gentle readers as a few of you have had the indupitable pleasure of finding out, I can become quite eloquent when conversing with a voicemail.
"Hey Pauline," sez I. "It's James. Just a few words of advice for that ould honeymoon business. When you're in the Outer Hebrides if someone offers to show you around their wickerman the answer is always no. Also, I'd counsel you not to attend any parties thrown by a bloke called Lord Summerisle. And if someone asks you to go to the woods at midnight to meet their horned god, just say you can't make it."
This was all a little obscure for the Mammy who grabbed the phone from my hand.
"Pauline," she cried. "Get out of that bed."
And hung up.

Friday, May 18, 2007

time and tide

Thursday, May 17, 2007

letter to a young artist

My wonderful Hindu friend, my dear friend of light, my friend who has ideas that challenge me, my friend who is on the cutting edge of art and life, my friend who adventures, my friend who is a soul of rarest grace, my friend who speaks four languages, my friend whose name is Divya but you've got to say the d like a soft th, my friend who sees the sun rise on the gateway to India, my friend who sees with the eyes of the spirit, my friend who writes, my friend who studies at university, my friend who likes theatre, my friend who likes music, my friend who travels in Nepal, my friend who travels in the spirit, my friend who has other friends, my friend who draws, my friend who dances, my friend friend!

Wednesday, May 16, 2007


and so we talked
in shadow
and in firelight

and i had forgotten
how walls built of granite
can crumble to a touch

this night of a thousand nights
you will soon forget
it will haunt my dreams forever

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

hence wilt thou lift up olympus

Coffee in the White Water Centre with atomic physicist Phil.
"I want to run my new scientific theory past you," sez I.
He groaned.
Phil is no great fan of scientific theories from lads who have no scientific qualifications.
"What is it?" he said eventually.
I looked around to make sure no rival scientists were listening at adjoining tables.
"Listen," I said conspiratorially. "I think I've just refuted Einstein."
"Oh God," said Phil."
"No listen," I persisted. "Science accepts two main theories to account for the universe. Relativity which is Einstein's. And Quantum. But science also accepts that both cannot be true. One of them has to be wrong."
"And you think Einstein is wrong."
"I think they're both wrong."
"Oh God," said Phil again, more fervently than before.
If you'd heard him gentle readers, you might have thought he was having a religious conversion.
It was time to unveil my grand theory of light.
A theory formulated initially as a dissent from scientific conformism.
A theory which had latterly started to take on a life of its own.
"This is my theory," sez I. "Both Relativity and Quantum are based on the notion that light travels at a certain speed."
"And so it does."
"And so it doesn't."
"What do you mean?"
"Light has no speed," I told him. "It has no speed because it has no mass. That's my theory."
"You're mad."
"The line between madness and genius is a fine one Phil. Assist me with my experiments and you may decide which I am."
"I already know which you are."
"Something without mass cannot have a speed Phil. The nature of light has been absolutely misunderstood by all modern scientific theories. Light is an instantaneous displacement of change in a medium. Because it takes us time to observe it or measure it, scientists have ascribed a speed to it. But they are wrong to do so. And all the theories they've built on this misplaced notion of light speed, are also wrong. Completely wrong."
Phil stared.
"Light does have a mass," he murmured. "Well it has something. There's a little package of energy or something."
"There's nothing," I cried. And if there's something, my theory is wrong."
"Nay Phil. Nay, nay and thrice nay. Both Relativity and Quantum are rubbish. Worse. They are works of the imagination concealed behind heaps of mathematics. Quite simply they are lies."
He left soon after that.
I was well pleased with myself.
One of my few remaining pleasures in life is undermining the simple faith of atomic physicists.

Monday, May 14, 2007

like butter wouldn't melt in my mouth

"You'd better bring some light reading to keep you entertained on your honeymoon. I mean during the quieter moments."
Pauline eyed me warily.
"Thank you for your advice," she said with the air of one who wanted to hear nothing further.
But the advice was by no means finished.
"You should bring a copy of that Annie Dilwad book you used to love," sez I. "You know. A Pill At Tinker Creek."
Pauline smiled.
"Annie Dillard converted to Catholicism," she told me.
My little heart leapt.
"No really?" I cried. "I aways knew there was something about that girl. Something I liked. The writing was alive. There was spirit in it. You can always tell. Seriously though Pauline, would you have a copy of A Pilgrim At Tinker Creek? I'd like to give it another look..."

Sunday, May 13, 2007

wedding out takes

Genius cousin Helen: So James can you accept that there are different paths.
Heelers: I suppose I'll have to.
Helen: So you've grown.
Heelers: Well, my acting skills have improved.


The Mammy: (nudging her favourite son and whispering loud enough to wake the dead) Is that rock in the centre of the field a phallic symbol.
Heelers: Just stop.


Pauline: The cousins did all the organising. Everything has been decided by democratic vote. I had no say at all.
Heelers: Pauline I took it on myself to conduct a last minute poll among the extended family. I'm afraid there's a narrow margin in favour of a Catholic church wedding.
Pauline: Cute.


The Mammy: (misty eyed) Well, I hope it works out for them.
Heelers: If it doesn't you can blame the earth goddess.