Hallucinogenic soup and a maths lesson - WWII Redser the 'puter man.

Redser should have gone to prison for poisoning his uncle Paddy – well he wasn't his real uncle: he was his aunt's husband. But everyone insisted he called him uncle. Redser hated him. Ever since he started telling him his hair was rusty from standing out in the rain.

Auntie Polly loved making soup, all kinds: potato, vegetable, broth from leftover meats. Redser liked them, but Paddy loved them, and drank big bowls of them with brown bread and country butter at lunchtime. That was up to the day Redser slipped some wild stringy long stemmed black capped mushrooms into one of the servings. Black Caps, Ink Caps, he later found out were hallucinogenic, and could lead to some very odd behaviour, particularly when the person who eats them consumes alcohol. And Paddy was a drinker.

But Paddy running down the outside streets of a country town shouting that he was Ali Baba and could fly, was surprising. The fact that he also felt very warm: became red-faced, and threw off all of his clothes, and gambolled naked, out and away from the pub, was also frowned upon. The plonker later told everyone that two old ladies were so upset that one of them had a stroke, but the other couldn't catch him.

When the incident was being discussed with the Garda who called, Redser said. “I ate the soup, so did Auntie Polly, and we did not go Ga Ga. Must have been the drink.” The Garda agree and that was that.

Redser was not an eager student, well unless it was Maths: Geometry, Propositions, Theorems, things like that came easy to him. As he saw it, Pythagoras got it right when he said that the son of the squaw on the hippopotamus hide was equal to the sons of the squaws on the other two hides. That was Redser's secret: changing the definitions he might not remember to something he would easily recall. He had lots of those tricks.

“Dunne, yes you. Empty head.” Pointing at Redser, “Square 16. That's right 16 mult.....”

“256, Sir.”

“That was an easy one. 36 squared?”

“1295. Sir.”

“What are you laughing at Dwyer? What's 25 squared?”

Redser converted the problem in his head using a formula his Granddad had taught him. Round up, round down, Add the real square. So 25 by 25 was the same as 20 by 30 and then square the end number 5, get 25 and answer 625. Sir.

"You're useless. Dwyer, Anyone know?”

Redser knew he was not included in that invitation but nevertheless answered “626. Sir”

He got a wallop on the side of his head for answering.

“No one asked you. Boy”

“Am I wrong? Sir.”

“Get out Dunne. Stand outside the door 'til I send for you.”

Redser walked slowly to the door.

“Hurry up. Get out'f me sight.”

Redser left, walked to the bicycle shelter, took his bike, jumped aboard, and peddled for home.

“Sir. Sir. Out the window, Dunne's riding out the gate. He's going home!”

When he got home his Granddad was working in his workshop, shaping a shaft for a pony trap.

“You're early.”

“Wiggy! We were doing maths. He threw me out.”

“Were you cheeky?”

“Well we were squaring. And he was picking on me.”

“I told you to slow down. Stop firing out the answers before the question is over. He told you to clear off home?”

“No out the door. Stand in the hall, 'till he sent for me. Probably cane me when he had steam up.”

“He'll be up to see me so.”

“What will you say to him.”

“I'll give him short shrift and tell him I'll see him in the pub later. He will be shitting himself, waiting for me to come in the door. So I'll got to Nealons for a change. The pint is not as good: but it won't kill me this once.”

“Why don't you go to the normal place and invite him to play a game of twenty five.”

“Cheeky, go on in and tell Polly I'll be in soon.”

Looking after him as he headed for the back-door, Old Bill muttered what he had said to Polly so often in the past. “ He's a good lad, but I think his father's wild streak will get him into trouble. That and living with a quick brain in a town of slow plodders. We will have to get him out of this place!”

When Redser passed his school leaving examination with distinction and qualified to sit an additional test to join the national airline, and was called to sit for it in O'Connell Street In Dublin; the head of the Brothers asked him if he could check the letter to see if a mistake had been made.

“We did not put your name down on the forms to be considered by the airline, on the basis of your leaving results. There must be some administration error.”

“Well there it is,” Redser replied, holding out his hand for the return of the letter.

Later Granddad chuckled when he heard of the exchange. “So that's what you were at when I caught you practising signatures. Who will he find out signed the application forms for you, then?”

“The careers and maths man, the lay teacher. Dinny.”

“The one who retired and went back to Dublin, after the exams were finished.”

“The same man.”

“God bless him so. If Nixer contacts him what will Dinny say.”

“We all believe Nixer forced him out – he was a good maths teacher, and Nixer wanted his job. So he will listen carefully and then say he did sign it.”

“When you are up in Dublin, look him up and buy him a drink.”

“Buy him a drink? Sure, I don't drink.”

Granddad smiled. “Yet.”