An Irish Mother Writing to Her Son
Dear son,
Just a few lines to let you know that I'm still alive. I'm writing this letter slowly because I know that you cannot read fast. You won't know the house when you come home. We have moved.
About your father, he has a lovely new job. He has 500 men under him, he is cutting the grass at the cemetery.
There was a washing machine in the new house when we moved in, but it isn't working too good. Last week I put 14 shirts into it, pulled the chain, and I haven't seen the shirts since.
Your sister, Mary, had a baby this morning. I haven't found out yet whether it is a boy or a girl so I don't know whether you are an uncle or an aunt.
Your Uncle Dick drowned last week in a vat of whiskey in Dublin Brewery, some of his work-mates dived in to save him, but he fought them off bravely. We cremated his body and it took three days for the fire to go out.
Your father didn't have much to drink at Christmas. I put a bottle of castor oil in his pint of beer. It kept him going till New Year's Day.
I went to the doctor on Thursday and your father came with me. The doctor put a small tube into my mouth and told me not to open it for ten minutes. Your father offered to buy it from him.
It only rained twice last week. First for 3 days, and then for 4 days. Monday it was so windy that one of our chickens laid the same egg four times.
We had a letter from the undertaker, he said if we don't pay the last instalment on your grandmother within 7 days, up she comes.
Yours loving mother, Marie
P.S. I was going to send you £10 but I already sealed the envelope.
