In our early teens, my brother and I got into a bit of trouble.
It wasn’t anything that unusual for boys our age, and at that time, but we were held up to a different light by our teachers, our clergy, and most of the townsfolk.
And so when the news of our arrest spread through our little culchie-cauldron of a town, there was much excitement—rejoicing, even—amongst our teachers, our clergy and most of the townsfolk.
“Oh, they think they’re so high and mighty, what with their cordless phone and “the” central heating! We’ll see what they say now, with two of the three boys in jail!”
(No one said that, but I know they were thinking it.)
We were in jail for a few hours only, which was very good. But it was our mother that came for us, and that was very bad indeed. She had (and has…
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