This is a story self started, 2014, in the Tyrone Guthrie Centre in Annaghmakerrig. Kept it going when she moved from Annaghmakerrig to Inchicore. Father H still alive then.
Varnish and varnish. I’ll say this for K: she is tenacious. Especially about her delusions.
“Me mum’s a thick,” she said once. “A focking thick.”
“Hmmm,” I said.
“She a root rotter,” K said.
The “I” is a man, but everyone who’s read the story automatically thinks it’s a woman because they know self wrote it and she’s, umm, a woman?