Pat; The Man Is A Fucking Legend !

 So; My entire life, right now, seems to revolve around these Dog fences I'm working on. I aim to make my entire compound inescapable to my Dogs. 

 It's costing me £ Hundreds! Timber. Paint. Hardware. I'm just throwing money at it, month after month. And the man hours are just sublime! It's become 'What I Do', these days.

 I'm spending entire, full days (after days!) just painting or staining dozens of four foot x 3 3/4" slats. Each one needing at least three coats. My home has become a slat factory. I'm not shitting ....!

 

  Of course, all these slats have to be screwed to horizontal runners. And they have to be screwed to posts! Posts that need to be sunk deep into this large stone infested ground.

  Pat said he'd found a guy with a Post Driver on his tractor. We needed to get the posts positions of the bottom and back fences worked out, so the guy could just drive in here. Drive the posts. And drive out. Every minute would be costing me yet more money.

 I was okay with that. I've long since lost count of the expenses here. It's for my Dogs. So, fuck it. Then, last Sunday happened ....!

  13:00. I heard a noise and glanced out to see Pat's van arriving at my gate. So, I wandered out there to greet him and see what the craic was. He asked me if I had my cro bar. Of course I did. Pat often enough liked to borrow it. No problemmo.

 Then, it started! Fucking hell! Far from putting the heavy bar in his van and driving off; He marched down to the bottom of my compound with it. And there he looked about and then started smashing the fucking thing into the ground like a man possessed! I'm like; " WTF?! "

  Without going into every moment of a blow by blow account; The guy just went fucking balls out fucking Nuclear! String lines were strung. Bars were smashed into the ground. Solid, large stones were shattered where they lay. I got to hold the fucking string out of his way!

 Then, he asked for my Post Driver ....! Get to fuck ....! I'm a full head taller than Pat. But, I'm now reduced to skin, bone and water. I have no muscle and no strength. Pat is scary!

  Exactly two hours after he'd pulled up ~ Pat drove away.  I was just in awe of what I'd beheld that afternoon. His parting shot had been something to the effect that the man and the post driving tractor would have cost me €50 -100. And that the stones would have broken half the posts anyway. 'Fuck That!'

  So, he'd simply rolled his figurative sleeves up. Jumped in his van and come down here. On his day of rest. He left me with This ....!

  My bottom fence posted and ready for the runners. And, not content with that ....?

  The Human Dynamo sunk four more, at the back of my place too! And there he Really had to smash that bar through some massive fucking stones! (I got to hold the string out of his way, again. FFS!)

  I'm telling ye; All this guy needs is a fucking cheroot. A squint. And to whisper. 

  Fucking Legend!!!

Michael Heggarty ~ A Legend Lost .....

  Town has just become a poorer place. I was in there, yesterday, and heard of the death of Michael Heggarty. It's hard to express how I feel. Town will never be quite the same again now. There'll be no chance of seeing Michael there.

 Michael was a fucking Legend. Totally and completely shot to fucking pieces. The guy only had to walk into a bar for the locals to start grinning behind their hands. Even just the sight of him could set people off.

 People who'd known him all their lives too. Because they recognised there was no telling what Michael was going to come out with next. (See Here)

 I never did get a photo of Michael. God, how I wish I did! He looked something like " Frazer " ('We're all Doomed, Captain Mainwering!') crossed with the mad prof from " Back to the Future ".

 He had the wild hair and the wild stare. Long, loose limbed bloke. They reckon he'd work through a nuclear strike. Employ him to dig a hole and he'd dig that fucker until it was dug. 

 Wouldn't matter if it pissed with rain. He wouldn't even stop for a tea break. He'd be drenched through to the skin. Shovelling more water than earth. But he Would Not stop working. Known for it.

 Known for his sacks too. Mad fucker. Always had his sack or two. Always tied up at their necks. Sometimes one. Sometimes two. Fuck knows what was in them. I asked Mike about them, day I heard the news;

 " What the Fuck did he keep in those damn sacks, Mike? " I asked. " Everything. " came the answer. Mike probably knew Michael all his life. I just accepted that answer. Always will.

 Anyway, there it is. Michael's dead. And the entire damn world is a piss poorer place without him. Guy was a fucking legend. A Character. I always told people; " Come here? Ye've got to see Michael Heggarty! ". Like the Colosseum, in Rome. Now he's gone.

 It was cancer, by the way. I'm not sure, but; I think I heard he was originally diagnosed some time (years?) ago. What ever. Seems he refused any treatment ~ what's the fucking point, one may well ask!

 Then, he was whisked into hospital. He'd never raised a word of complaint to Anyone. No one had a clue he was sick. 

 So, he was taken to hospital. Inside the space of Nine Days, he'd gone from being admitted to hospital. Shifted out to the Hospice.Then he was gone.

Town will be a hollow place without him.