A Linnet Swan, Inhouse Stock

I think one or two people in the cycling club may suspect that Derek and I are an item. I don’t know what evidence we might have given them; well at least what evidence Derek might have given them as I myself am the ultimate in discretion.

As I’ve said I’m worried about it getting out (excusing the pun) before I’m ready. The wife’s family would have a ‘field day’ telling her they ‘knew it all along’ and ‘how did she not spot it beforehand’ sort of thing. I can’t even begin to imagine the field day the teenage boys in school would have, my son’s school, mine and my son’s school. My head is wrecked from these thoughts and I try to think of what my late grandfather said about not wasting time worrying about what people think of you.

We meet this elderly chap, Mick, on the cycle, and when we stop for burgers he orders a vegetarian burger but the waitress doesn’t hear him properly and gets him a regular one. Then Mick tells us he hasn’t eaten meat since 1950.

“1950!” one of the lads asks incredulously.

“Yep, I was eleven and something we did in school...”

“Allright, I’m thinking I don’t need to know the whole story. Just wondering what age you are, if you chose to give up eating meat sixty-eight years ago.”

Another one of the cyclists says he was part of The Combined Universities and everyone whistles in reverence. Jeaic asks me what The Combined Universities means and I tell him they were the first Irish XV rugby team to beat the South Africans. Then my son is almost whistling softly himself.

The entire cycle over-nights in Kenmare, a nice hotel, and my son and I are sharing a room, naturally enough, I go to the bar to have a few pints with Derek and the rest of the lads. His mother wouldn’t approve of me leaving Jeaic alone in the bedroom. And I would say what the heck was she worried about. Did she think someone was going to break into the room and snatch him. I’d hate to see anyone try, as he’d ‘lamp’ them, would my Jeaic. There are two other sons of cyclers here, one aged a year older than Jeaic, another a year older again. I am pleased that the three have become friends, even though their fathers are rivals. We get the drift from them that they are fierce competitive among each other on behalf of their fathers. We find that amusing, but we are touched and proud as well. Two out of the three young lads are the ‘victims’ of what my mother would call ‘a broken home’. Well my home isn’t broken – thank you very much – it’s just my wife doesn’t live with us no more.

Some of the women in the group have nick-named the three lads, The Three Musketeers and my lad is called Aramis, if you don’t mind. I’m fierce proud of that too. We can all relax more or less when they are together as they are sensible out really, I don’t think any of them smoke or would take a drink or that, you know.

I leave my pint and go for a piss. Derek comes into the gents after me. He pisses a torrent so he does. He says he misses me, that his roommate is going home to the wife tonight and will I come to him? I tell him I can’t, how would I explain my absence to my son, but suggest in a humourous way: “You know what they say about sex the night before an important sporting activity?”

“Aw fuck,” he says, “look I’m sick of it now, so I am. I think maybe it’s time we call it a day.”

“Listen man, just give me a bit of time, ok, it will all sort itself out. He’s in my school, in FIRST YEAR for flip sake…”

Someone else comes into the gents and we have to break off the conversation. Later I send Derek a text: Christmas. We’ll bring it out into the open at Christmas. 1st term down for Jeaic. When I get to the room Jeaic asks: “Can I