'It has to be said that I've turned out to be an amazing father'

It’d make any dad proud: Ro’s notched up number three of the ‘Seven Brides’, and her boyfriend is in – yes! – Clongowes…

It’d make any dad proud: Ro’s notched up number three of the ‘Seven Brides’, and her boyfriend is in – yes! – Clongowes

SO I’M IN, like, Dundrum, doing the whole Daddy Daycare bit. Sunday afternoon and blah blah blah. We’re sitting in Bucky’s, the three of us, Honor sucking away happily on her strawberries and cream frap, Ronan sitting there with the sleeve of his Shamrock Rovers jersey rolled up to the shoulder, staring angrily at the nicotine patch at the top of his orm, wondering, presumably, why it’s doing nothing to take the edge off his cravings. Even slaps it a couple of times, like you would a focked TV.

“Take my advice,” he looks across the table at his sister and goes, “don’t ever smoke. Ah, thee’ll tell you all sorts, Honor – it’s glamorous, it’ll keep yisser weight down, all the rest of it. What thee don’t tell you, of course, is that they’re fooken moorder to give up.” He’s a comedian – always was.

“Listen to your brother,” I go, even though she doesn’t need to be told? She hangs on his every word.

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“See, if was diffordent for us,” he goes. “We never knew any of the dangers when we steerted.

In ear day we werdunt toalt. Now there’s no excuse, but. Thee know now that they’re veddy bad for you. And like I said to you, moorder to give up.

“I never want to think of you going troo what Ine going troo reet now. Ine fooken gutten, so I am. Gutten.”

Okay, this is possibly going to sound like I've got some kind of major ego problem, but I'm sitting here, roysh, actually proudof myself? Because it has to be said that I've turned out to be an amazing father to these two, even if a lot of it was by total accident.

"Mommy says that it's like – oh! my God! – sucha disgusting habit?" Honor goes and I end up just laughing. Er, this coming from the girl who lived on focking celery and Marlboro Lights in college? Except I don't say that. Because they always say, I'm pretty sure, that parents who are getting divorced shouldn't, like, diss each other in front of their actual kids, because it canbe bad for them.

So instead, roysh, all I go is, “I wouldn’t take everything that girl says as gospel. A lot of the time, it has to be said, she’s making it up as she goes along.”

I take a sip of my caramel macchiato and that’s when I suddenly spot this bird standing in the queue – think Una Healy and you’re in the right postcode – giving me the deep meaningfuls over a sandwich board advertising the Storbucks Ethos Water Fund.

I’m there, “You two, em, amuse yourselves there for a minute, will you? I’ll be back,” then I get up, roysh, and join the queue, standing immediately behind her. She’s wearing a pair of low-slung skinny jeans with an inch of orse showing. Half moon over Rock and Republic.

Of course I’m straight in the old grab bag for one of my famous lines. “Your beauty’s distracting me,” I go. “Would you mind keeping it down a touch?”

Her reaction, it has to be said, is not what I’m expecting. She turns fully around to me, big angry face on her and goes, “Is that your son over there?”

I’m like, “Errr, yeah,” because I’m not ashamed of him – don’t care how he’s dressed.

She’s there, “Is that a nicotine patch he’s wearing?”

I laugh. “It is. For all the focking good it’s doing.”

“Do you think that’s funny?” she goes.

It's immediately obvious that she's one of them. And I'm like, "No," on the straight away defensive?

"I'm a doctor," she goes, like I should be impressed by the fact, although I amimpressed actually. "Those things aren't for children, you know."

“So,” I go, trying to keep my cool with her, “what would you prefer, he was back on 40 fags a day?”

She just, like, shakes her head and narrows her eyes, then tells me I’m an idiot.

I go, “I actually came over here to tell you I thought you looked like the Irish bird out of The Saturdays. Well, you can forget about that now,” and then I turn around and just walk away, leaving her mouth just gaping.

I tip back over to Honor and Ro. "Shit," is the first word out of hismouth.

“Wouldn’t worry about it,” I go. “She’s actually not that great close up.”

He’s like, “No,” at the same time putting his head down, “that boord who’s just arthur walking in.”

I’m like, “Bird?” taking a subtle look over the old left hammer. There’s, like, three young girls, all Drummies, standing in the queue – we’re talking Uggs, the whole bit – and I know instantly what he’s talking about. I was a teenager once, remember. I’ve been that soldier.

I’m like, “Go on, which one?”

“Blonde,” he goes.

I laugh. Probably because she's the best of the three. I'm presuming she's in the cast for the joint school production they're doing of Seven Brides.

I’m like, “Who does she play, Ro?”

He puts his hand up to shield his face. He’s like, “Martha.”

“Martha? This is like memory focking lane for me. How many’s that now?”

“Three. She’s upset, but.”

“Upset?”

“She has a boyfriend, Rosser.”

I laugh. “Go on, what school’s he in?”

“What?”

“This boyfriend – what school? Please tell me it’s . . .”

“Clongowes.”

I actually let a roar out of me. I’m like, “Yeeesss!” punching the air at the same time. “You little daisy.”

He's totally morto, of course. "Keep your fooken voice down," he practically spits at me. "I don't want to see her," he goes, suddenly standing up.

I laugh. I'm there, "You can't go anywhere, Ro. You'd have to walk past the queue. She'll, like, seeyou?"

He stares at the exit, roysh, like it’s an – I don’t know – raging river that he has to cross.

“Why don’t you just face her?” I go. “She’s the one with the actual boyfriend. In other words, it’s her issue?”

He just shakes his head. He’s like, “No – no, I can’t, Rosser. I’m going into the jacks. Bang on the door when she’s gone, will you?”

So up he hops and locks himself into the old Josh Ritter. And it's obvious, roysh, that he's going to be in there a while, because the birds, I notice, have bought their coffees to have here – and hersis, like, a venti?

I end up just shaking my head, feeling a little – yeah, I’m going to admit it – disappointed with my son. I stand up and tell Honor that we’re going.

“What about Ronan?” she goes, all concern for her brother.

I’m there, “Let him stew in there for a while. He could do with, like, toughening up.”


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Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

Ross O’Carroll-Kelly was captain of the Castlerock College team that won the Leinster Schools Senior Cup in 1999. It’s rare that a day goes by when he doesn’t mention it