Val is a bachelor farmer in his seventies, so he should, by rights, be half mad.
Anne EnrightI think you know everything at eight. But is is hidden from you, sealed up, in a way you have to cut yourself open to find.
Anne EnrightHere we go again. Always a few drinks, but sometimes even sober, we play the unhappiness game; endlessly round and round. Ding dong. Tighter and tighter. On and on. Push me pull you. Come here and i'll tell you how much i hate you. Hang on a minute while i leave you. All the while we know we are missing the point, whatever the point used to be.
Anne EnrightTags: life-and-living unhappiness
There were girls at school whose families grew to a robust five or six. There were girls with seven or eight-which was thought a little enthusiastic - and then there were the pathetic ones like me, who had parents that were just helpless to it, and bred as naturally as they might shit.
Anne EnrightTags: family-planning funny-but-true
I am a trembling mess from hip to knee. There is a terrible heat, a looseness in my innards that makes me want to dig my fists between my thighs. It is a confusing feeling - somewhere between diarrhoea and sex - this grief that is almost genital.
Anne EnrightTags: sadness grief feelings humorous
He had beautiful manners. Which, if you ask me, was mostly a question of saying nothing, to anyone, ever.
Anne EnrightTags: manners
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