All blood, sweat, tears, company and the craic

Double Vision with Charlie Adley

Many thanks to all of you who responded so positively to this colyoom’s mention of male mental health a couple of weeks ago. It’s great to hear your tales of progress; magnificent that you’re so willing to tell them.

Traditionally, men are not considered good at talking to each other, but that’s not necessarily true. We share feelings through telling jokes, reveal tragedies and victories through tales and anecdotes.

Sometimes you don’t need to go into the details. Sometimes it’s just enough to get away from whatever ails your head and spend time in the company of others who are simply pleased to see you. Sometimes, for men, the fellowship of other men who want nothing from you except attention and time can prove wonderfully healthy.

One of the ways I and a few others massage our male minds is to gather on Friday afternoons round at Soldier Boy and Whispering Blue’s gaff.

It’s a little like one of those excellent Men’s Sheds that exist these days, except that we don’t actually make anything except conversation and endless cups of strong sweet tea.

Okay: it’s exactly like a men’s shed.

A few weeks ago, we were joined by Bog Doctor, a soul with a keen sense of the absurd, often couched in overtly perverse and scatological humour. Passionate about the local environment, his insights have helped me to look at the bog differently when I’m out walking Lady Dog.

Are the plants by the drainage ditches looking more healthy than the ones far out on the middle of the plain? How much does our digging affect growth on what was once wet ground?

Reaching down beside his arm chair, Bog Doctor produced a small metallic suitcase, which he opened to reveal a microscope, slides, little bottles and tools, all slotted snugly and orderly in place.

On the table was a coffee and walnut cake, purchased to celebrate Soldier Boy’s birthday. Bog Doctor took a minuscule granule of the cake and placed it on a slide, whereupon each of us in turn groaned and giggled as we lowered our stiff and creaky middle-aged frames to kneel carefully by the microscope.

To read Charlie’s column in full, please see this week’s Galway City Tribune.