But that's in the future, and in the hands of the gods, so here is this week's dose of Friday Fiction, prompted by a very weird photo on Rochelle's blog!
http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
FORK COLLINS
“Can Fergus come round?”
“I ain’t having a Collins in this house.”
“But Granda . . .”
“Winter ’39, so it was, and feckin’ freezing. Mam throws the
ashes too wide and sets the stack ablaze, so I run over the fields to town
while Pops bashes the flames, but they spread to the byre. Fire engine clangs
along the top road, but Padraig Collins at the fork sends it down the wrong
lane.”
“That was seventy-five years ago, Granda!”
