Kilcock… the Domain R & J!

Some months ago I did a post called Kilcock… centre of Our Universe. This line comes from an essay I did much earlier… when this blog was still a twinkle in the cyber eye. My mind returned to the essay and the earlier post. Why… I’ve been threatening to do a post about our family butcher in the village… yes, threatening!

So… let me start with an extract from that much older essay…

Yes… I admit, we are ever so slightly different. The way I see it… our previous existence firmly based on the great outdoors… the homely, warm, cosy, peat smoke-filled indoor way of life this far north has it’s attractions… but it’s not quite what we do for a living… if you know what I mean?!

Talking about the outdoors and the way we tend to express ourselves… there’s a fellow selling steaks, very conveniently situated next to the ‘offie’… you get my drift… Irish steak is something special on the barbie. Thick, juicy bits of meat cut to order… get’s me salivating as I type. Fortunately we learnt the lesson very soon after our arrival. When we found charcoal, that was…

Now, it’s not only the meat that’s got when you visit this purveyor of perfection… often it’s an earful of light-hearted abuse, other times it a snippet of local news… best though are the mini debates indulged in when there’s a free moment. I must confess… I think I’m always coming off second best… I often find myself having words with myself as I make a hasty retreat…

“You should know better … get your meat and shut up while you’re at it!”

True philosophers, those two!

Those two at it... getting your next fillet sorted... 😉

Yep… you can’t win. If you should be brave enough to enter into a debate you’re letting yourself in for some fair abuse! Don’t take them on… no… not even one-on-one. But then… occasionally we, the general endearing public supporters of the emporium, get the upper hand. And so it was… my turn rolled around last week.

There’s a little box of numbered tickets on the counter… when you’ve paid for your bits of meat you’re allowed to take a ticket. Then the fun usually starts… you show your ticket to the proprietors.

No… try again tomorrow, no… not even close… go away. No… no… no… get a life… no, no, no… loser! 😉

So it goes day after day. This usually leads to much consternation in the shop. The patrons all happily adding their opinions. Many a suggestion of impropriety has been offered up. There’s no winning number… never has been… never will be. It’s all just a conversation piece. Ha… don’t believe a word those two utter. That’s their little private joke on us. They’re taunting us… again!

Around Christmas time the counter is lined with gifts… usually bottles of the good Irish amber liquid. I’m always on about my lucky number allowing me to go off with one of those little beauties… in vain.

OK… so, what am I trying to say? There I was… dipping my hand into the ticket box… out came number 466… I showed it to Esquire Ryan. Strange look on his face… his hand reached in behind the mincer and out came a matching ticket… I had won! Yes… the game is legit! WoW… my faith in my fellow-man and woman has been restored. Congratulations to me… 😉

Whoopy… thanks R&J… the meat tasted especially good… seeing as we won it off you!

Let’s just hope I get another winner around Christmas time… 😉

Enough... you've got your free-be... now get lost before this tool is employed elsewhere... 😉

PS – It’s almost impossible to get any pictures of photographic merit of the two… they’re extremely unco-operative! And… don’t forget… they’re carrying the knives…

PSS – I have been threatening to start a blog for the two of them… only thing… Esq Ryan is a total technophobe… or, so I’m led to believe…

PSSS – I have previously included picture of Esq Ryan in my Ferren’s to Maynooth walk slideshow…

PSSSS – Yep… it’s Monday again… enjoy your week and if you should be passing by the meat emporium in Kilcock… do yourself a favour… go get yourself a quick slagging! 😉