Be honest and fear not

But you'd better wipe your feet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The taper for the run on the 24th is going well. I am convinced I have severed a nerve in my left foot and have plantar fascitis in my right foot. My heart rate for easy 4 mile runs is at least 15 bpm above the same pace for a 32 mile training run.

I am cranky(er) than usual and am staring at the beers in the fridge like a teenager window shopping on a school tour in Amsterdam.

All perfectly normal.

The main reason for the blog post is to show you the photograph above.

This is the threshold of not a Presbyterian redemptorist hall,  not an alcoholics anonymous meeting hall (arguably the same thing), not even a public house, no, this is the threshold of a hardware store in a tiny village in Co. Clare called Enistymon.

I would be lying if I said I remembered it from the mid 1970’s when we holidayed near here but I do remember it from a stag party I was on sometime in the mid-1990’s that passed through here.

I remember staggering down the street with the rest of the slightly insecure men and seeing the image.

15 years later I crossed the threshold and I feared not.

I came away with 3 things from the shop:

2 jute mats for my back door (he knocked €2.50 off the price) – that was one thing by the way.

The knowledge that he sells 3 mats a week -rain or shine.

The knowledge that he sells a kettle a day – although he had sold 3 kettles the previous day so he wasn’t too worried about not selling one the day I came in. We had a conversation about how things have changed and how nobody repairs anything any more and how ‘everything comes from China’.

Globalisation is everywhere, even in Enistymon.

Be honest and fear not.

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