Buddy Holly born this day in 1936 (7Sep).

Sitting here trying to write and then Ronan plays Buddy Holly songs, by Buddy and others on the radio.

Some tranquil moments and reflections.

From Here Lies.

The funeral was big. A woman who lived so long deserved respect. He stood with her family as people sympathised: each agreed it was time for her soul to rest.

He kept his back to the area of the graveyard where Deirdre lay. When he attended other burials he left by the small gate in the wall nearest the bridge, he never visited her. Now he turned to follow his shadow, a pathway guide painted by the climbing sun, to her.

She wasn’t alone any more: her parents were buried beside her. That in itself caused a pang of sadness, a slight tightening in the chest, a queasy feeling down low in the stomach: a memory of a time when he thought that in the end, they would lie side by side. It wasn’t anything they talked about, or even planned, but down there in that country town husbands and wives usually ended up that way: twin plots one headstone; beloved wife devoted husband.

He ran their song through his head. It brought him back to the tennis hops. She always saved that dance for him. No, matter who they were with, once the record began, they left and found each other.

A soft, “Hello.”

“Hello yourself.”

She settled within his arms and they slow danced: her chin on his shoulder, their eyes closed bodies moving slowly in unison; stepping to the slow beat one-two-one, one-two-one, one-two-one, alone in a crowd, lost in their world; the one that Buddy brought them to.

Sometimes we’ll sigh,

Sometimes we’ll cry,

And we’ll know why,

Just you and I,

Know true love ways…

The townspeople were leaving to go back to their own lives. Only a few remained, dotted around the plots, at the resting places of their loved ones. The local solicitor, while paying her respects, had asked him to call in when he had time.

“I know she left me the wood,” he said. “It's not that she replied. Call soon.”

And The Plod Goes On - still grafting at the crafting!

Shay decided he needed a list, a job list: a thing he always despised, bits of notes of things to do, your life on a page. Not the get the groceries kind of list, or get your shoes heeled, of pick up flowers for the wife. A list of priorities: who to concentrate on first in the new job. Would it be on his PC, or iPad, or Phone, in a “Notes” folder: not a ghost of a chance he would make it on any of these. Good old fashioned paper and pen, would do. Then when you solved each of the tasks – you could tick them off, scratch them out, obliterate them.

The first thing he wrote down, in his new notebook, was... Who is watching me? And the answer he thought... Terrorist Terry – how does he fit in?

Shay stopped after he wrote that. He began muttering to himself, whispering... He was somehow involved in the kidnapping of the priest, well not the kidnap – Bowen did that – the rescue! Jees! That part of the story was still a bit of a mystery. I was busy trying to find Bowen, not concentrating on anything else. Wonder did Bob Tyrell ever work it out? I'll ask him.

Muttering again, chewing an inner cheek, trying to bite a piece out of it, gently... I got a call to pick up the priest in that old church – in Ballyboughal, Fingal. Bally Bloody Boughal, a whistle stop, just a church and a pub, sometimes a closed pub.

An old church, and graveyard as well. Historians said that this church had a secret relic of Christ and St. Patrick – the Bachall: the crozier of Christ, given to St. Patrick before he came to Ireland. That was what the name meant the town of the staff of Christ.

Then he wrote the same question in another way. Who in the job is watching/spying on me? That's it boyo. Which of Nora's Schnauzers was sniffing around. Is it me they are looking at: Shambo, or the boss, trying to get dirt. God knows there is a lot of that, on the new boss. F them.

WHERE IS BOWEN. He wrote this in capitals: it was the question he needed to answer. But this is the danger. The higher ups want him dead and out of the way.

Then he added WHY in capitals again. That's all I'm writing down on that question. What could he know? Who fears it? Who fears Georgie can harm them? Jees that should be question in: the top priority.

He finished with the final question, for now he though. Again in Capitals – WILL I GET SCREWED? AND WILL THERE BE REWARDS FOR THE NON-PARTICIPANTS????