Skibbereens: The Romance Volume

By Mike O'Sullivan

This volume of Romance has 14 tales taking a sideways look at love, chance meetings, fate, partners, stereotypes and more......

Almost all the tales are short and can be read in a few minutes on the bus to work or over a quick cup of coffee. They represent a bite out of a different way of seeing the world and aim to entertain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike O'Sullivan
• Release date: Sep 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311448637

Mike O'Sullivan

Mike is an Irish novelist and poet, married and living in Herefordshire England. He was born in Dublin and spent his school years in Cork. In primary school Mike needed to get by the eagle-eyed headmaster who looked hard at his long essays designed to hide the words he could not spell. This carried on further up the line when at UCD the Professor of English likened Mike to another who could not spell, George Bernard Shaw. But Mike made the connection, he did not have to be a genius at spelling.He moved to London in his twenties and has worked in a wide range of industries – music and cosmetics, in oil exploration, mining, insurance, catering, City Finance and Management Consultancy. Mike uses that experience in his novels. When he first arrived in London Mike fell in with a group of three other Irishmen debating the philosophical process of making a million or finding a job that was more like pleasure. Mike found the job, but it would take too long to explain his philosophy here. Mike says that in a sense he had a plan for life and so far it has been working out.His novels often start with an individual battling the system but without a plan of how he or she will cope. Mike believes that social systems and institutions are usually rigid when it comes to change or quick decisions and therefore the individual can become trapped. It takes effort, some courage and guile to walk out into the wider world of individual thinking. He shows that an individual can focus enough to even the odds and come out on top. He often uses humour and comedic situations to make his point leaving the reader to consider the underlying philosophy if they wish. A key element of Mike’s writing is the Irish skill of fast paced conversation as Mike’s overall aim is to entertain his readers.

Book preview

Skibbereens

Short philosophical or humorous sketches

Copyright © 2014 by Mike O’Sullivan

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

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To find out more about Mike O’Sullivan,

his books and other works, visit www.mike-osullivan.com

Cover design copyright © Mike O’Sullivan

Skibbereens

The Romance Volume

By

Mike O’Sullivan

Contents

1 Mitcham

2 At the fair

3 Planet X

4 Green bottles

5 Mature relations

6 The nearest pub to….

7 Soho

8 What’s in a name?

9 The dance

10 Passion and patience

11 Crises what crises

12 Blow out

13 Television repair man

14 Blood

1 Mitcham

Mitcham was pigeon holed some years back by the socialite arts reviewer Seamus Reilly. Mitcham felt comfortable about that until they stopped feeding pigeons. The trapped novelist became condemned to a life of looking back. Such is the pernickety order in the minds of publishers, media and fashion that cutting his hair would have improved his chances of breaking out. Though what might worry him more would be what he was breaking out for. Being stuck in a hole however old might be preferable to being out in the shit like the rest of us. So no hair cut.

Much like Napoleon Bonaparte or Arthur Wellington people knew the name Mitcham. His face stared out of bookshops windows before the rest of us knew where to put the full stop. Those were the days when we would get face to face with the man when trying to use the bookshop window as a mirror to fix our ties or hair or get clued up on passing women. Mitcham always stared out of dark book covers which reflected the street well enough. Looking at Mitcham had its benefits. Women thought we were intellectuals.

It is doubtful whether anything can be added to that which everyone knows about Mitcham. He was married once. Her name was Daisy Mellons, the oversexed daughter of a farmer who lived so far out in the sticks flies had to catch a bus to reach the cows. Daisy stared out of newspapers the day of her marriage. And it wasn’t her eyes which attracted the media. She possessed such a large chest and deep cleavage combined with her addiction to low necklines that there was hardly any space in the picture for anyone else. Male readership of newspapers which printed her picture soared to the extent that it must have brought tears to the eyes of newspaper owners. In those Mitcham days he was always somewhere in the shadows of the photo and it was with a sense of injustice that men thought of the pair as a thing of beauty to behold. There was a question of whether she was his woman or he was her man. But as long as she was in the public eye, so was he. However they didn’t last long.

She left him for a milkman, as Mitcham coined it. Not any milkman. She moved in with mister moocow himself David Perdington-Smythe, Chairman of Real Beef Eats and Drinks. It wasn’t long before Perdington-Smythe milked his last cow, the result of over engaging in Daisy’s sex romps which we are reliably informed included the mind game ‘Spot the Right Mellon.’ Next she went for mister liquid the overweight ageing owner of Glenhunting Whiskey, taking him to the cleaners for a couple of million. After him she chased down Bradlam Duply who left her his stables of forty race horses, an estate in Nice of 5,000 acres, villa and swimming pool and a brothel called Dicks. In fact she was threading her way through so many industrial giants that she began to make the FSTE 100 jittery. Her latest role is that of Chairwoman of Media and Industrial Holdings a multi national where the Chairman passed her the reins so that he could get his sight back. In her capacity as leader of industry she is said to have enormously affected the attention span of the Governor of the Bank of England. When he sat opposite her at the monthly meeting he concentrated so much on Daisy and instinctively moved forward (as they are so fond of saying in financial circles) that others present were forced to grab his arms when he started to dribble at the mouth and crawl across the table.

And now here she is at the Park Lane Mellons International Hotel presenting the £200,000 Media and Industrial Literary Prize to a man who we all thought of as being dead and buried, her ex-husband, the oh so smug bastard Mitcham, for his work ‘Pushing up Daisy’s.’

2 At the Fair

It was a blue sky day in the Summer of 1939. From the moment she was introduced to him at the Linton village fair Faith felt something uneasy in her mind about the man who then befriended her, Bartholomew Gorragh. He was handsome. He was strong. He wore expensive tailored clothes. His black beard gave him a mysterious air. He was fast on his feet and with his chat. As he walked her around the stalls which were spread around the village green she fell under his spell. It was nothing immediate.

And there was no one look or gesture at which Faith became aware that she had accepted his friendship over and above normal feeling of wellbeing by being with him and flirting between good spirited and coy. When they stopped to have a drink she noticed that he too had a soft drink. She wondered if this was his way of impressing her. And she realised that she was already trying to find fault with him. Why? Was she that much involved already? Later on during lunch he let slip that he was a teetotaller. Is this man a saint she asked herself?

After lunch they strolled down to the bridge and along the river bank. He told her he was a sea captain who inherited a local farm. He’d been all around the world but always secretly wanted to be a farmer. It seemed a contradiction she thought. Surely in these times he would have been needed more at sea. But as if he read her mind he went on to explain that oil had been discovered on the farm. And prior to his command at sea he had worked in the American oil fields. It was more important for someone with experience of working in oil fields to take charge. The arrangements Bartholomew made with his three brothers and two sisters was to give them a share of the oil proceeds. A very generous offer she thought. She walked so relaxed in this company she might have known him for years. He showed his worldly wisdom and experience in the generous way he treated her. He led the direction they walked choosing the level ground. He introduced subjects into the conversation to which she could contribute. He flattered her by admiring her clothes, which she had made herself. She just went along with the flow. It was as if he was so used to getting his way with women. Some men are just capable of getting women to fall in with their suggestions. Faith was wondering about this in a far-off way. No man can be flawless she thought. But it was then that she saw another aspect of their walking out together. And this made her stop abruptly in her tracks and stare to the front as if she had just realised the world was going to stop in two minutes.

She couldn’t believe it. But she understood profoundly why she had to give up this man immediately. It struck her as an outrageous sign of the times that she knew what she must do. There was no way out for her. And he was such a rare catch too. But she knew how her friends would react. And she couldn’t stand the pointing and laughing which would follow the formal announcement of them walking out together.

‘I must stop seeing you immediately,’ she stammered out to him as they strolled. ‘I must. There’s nothing else to it.’

‘Whatever is the matter Faith?’ he asked in the most reasonable of tones.

‘Its too embarrassing to say,’ she responded. ‘Much too embarrassing.’

How could she possibly tell him? How could she tell him that her friends would in their indomitable way for the rest of their lives refer to them through titters if not roaring laughter as Faith and B Gorragh?

3 Planet X

It was about the time news headlines moved into peoples’ normal speech and twenty four hour news coloured their day. They couldn’t speak about anything without treating it like a headline. Soaps and