a gentle parfit knight

Afternoon drive to Carlow to have my car tested.

The countryside glorious.

Splenderous beams of light translucent on the air ahead of me, falling in a fan tail of glory from heaven over the mountains and the fields.

I've been praying for the babies.

I can see heaven now.

The thought comes to me that heaven might be what God intends for them.

But I'm asking for them to live.

Stopped at a Maxol Garage on the O'Brien Road seeking beverages.

A busy newsagents and deli shop attached to the garage.

I brewed up a hot chocolate, grabbed a packet of crisps and a mint aero.

It's been like that since I gave up sugar.

Sweet things suddenly taste very sweeeeeeet.

As I headed towards the counter I espied a series of nude magazines on the newspaper racks.

A frown creased the handsome features of the noble Heelers.

I looked closer.

The usual drivel.

Playboy and assorted projectile vomitous rags.

Very sad.

At the counter a pleasant roguish faced Irish countrywoman totted up the cost of my purchases.

"You've got some nudey magazines on the shelves back there," I said a bit stiffly.

"Ah only one or two," answered she.

"Are you not offended by what they do to women?" I probed.

"I don't think anyone worries too much really," she said, voice mild and diplomatic.

"But do you not think it's wrong to use women for pornography?" I pushed.

"Ah no, sure no one takes too much notice," she replied.

"Would you not be worried about the children coming in here and seeing that rubbish?" I pressed.

"They never look at them, well maybe one lad did once," she hedged.

"Does your boss really think it's worth the few quid he gets from those and the few quid he makes for Hugh Heffner, if the magazine then causes a rape or destroys some young lad's mind?" I insisted.

"We don't even sell that many of them," countered she.

"But are you not insulted personally to think that someone's daughters are being used in this way and you're selling it?" I challenged.

"Not really," she said distantly.

"But it's exploitation," sez I.

"I'm not saying you haven't got a right to your view," she said.

"Okay," I murmured.

"Some other people have even said the same as you," she volunteered generously.

I thanked her and turned to leave.

As I made my exit stage left, a sexalacious babe in the queue gave me the most wondrously soul lifting smile you've ever seen.

It was charismatic.

Woman can do that.

They can turn it on.

On special occasions.

So she'd been listening.

The smile said everything she wanted it to say.

There was gratitude in it. Admiration. And well done soldier.

I favoured her with my famous goonish grin as I left.

Clearly this sensitivity to the dignity of women gag is going to have to become a regular part of my routine.