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He Sits In An Old Armchair In The Corner Covered With Bits Of Blankets And A Bucket Behind The Chair That Stinks Enough To Make You Sick And When You Look At That Old Man In The Dark Corner You Want To Get A Hose With Hot Water And Strip Him And Wash Him Down And Give Him A Big Feed Of Rashers And Eggs And Mashed Potatoes With Loads Of Butter And Salt And Onions.i Want To Take The Man From The Boer War And The Pile Of Rags In The Bed And Put Them In A Big Sunny House In The Country With Birds Chirping Away Outside The Window And A Stream Gurgling.

-Frank McCourt

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He Sits In An

Frank McCourt

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He Sits In An Old Armchair In The Corner Covered With Bits Of Blankets And A Bucket Behind The Chair That Stinks Enough To Make You Sick And When You Look At That Old Man In The Dark Corner You Want To Get A Hose With Hot Water And Strip Him And Wash Him Down And Give Him A Big Feed Of Rashers And Eggs And Mashed Potatoes With Loads Of Butter And Salt And Onions.i Want To Take The Man From The Boer War And The Pile Of Rags In The Bed And Put Them In A Big Sunny House In The Country With Birds Chirping Away Outside The Window And A Stream Gurgling.

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First Of All There Is Always That Artistic Challenge Of Creating Something. Or The Particular Experience To Take Slum Life In That Period And Make Something Out Of It In The Form Of A Book. And Then I Felt Some Kind Of Responsibility To My Family.

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There's So Much Absurdity. Poverty Is So Absurd.

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I Say, Billy, What’s The Use In Playing Croquet When You’re Doomed? He Says, Frankie, What’s The Use Of Not Playing Croquet When You’re Doomed?

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I Think I Settled On The Title Before I Ever Wrote The Book.

You Never Know When You Might Come Home And Find Mam Sitting By The Fire Chatting With A Woman And A Child, Strangers. Always A Woman And Child. Mam Finds Them Wandering The Streets And If They Ask, Could You Spare A Few Pennies, Miss? Her Heart Breaks. She Never Has Money So She Invites Them Home For Tea And A Bit Of Fried Bread And If It's A Bad Night She'll Let Them Sleep By The Fire On A Pile Of Rags In The Corner. The Bread She Gives Them Always Means Less For Us And If We Complain She Says There Are Always People Worse Off And We Can Surely Spare A Little From What We Have.

There Were Positive Things About The Church, That Is, In The European Cultural Sense, The Architecture, The Liturgy, The Music, The Art, Such As It Was, The Stations Of The Cross In The Church, The Tradition, And The Atmosphere Of Awe And Mystery In The Mass. The Atmosphere Of Miracle, One Of Mainly Mystery, That's What Fascinates Me.

In The High School Classroom You Are A Drill Sergent, A Rabbi, A Shoulder To Cry On, A Disciplinarian, A Singer, A Low-level Scholar, A Clerk, A Referee, A Clown, A Counselor, A Dress-code Enforcer, A Conductor, An Apologist, A Philosopher, A Collaborator, A Tap Dancer, A Politician, A Therapist, A Fool, A Traffic Cop, A Priest, A Mother-father-brother-sister-uncle-aunt, A Bookeeper, A Critic, A Psychologist, The Last Straw.

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I Appealed To My Mother. I Told Her It Wasn't Fair The Way The Whole Family Was Invading My Dreams And She Said, Arrah, For The Love O' God, Drink Your Tea And Go To School And Stop Tormenting Us With Your Dreams.

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Keep Scribbling! Something Will Happen.

Shakespeare Is Like Mashed Potatoes, You Can Never Get Enough Of Him.

Mashed Potatoes

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