[lit-ideas] A fine Bloomsday to all
- From: Robert Paul <rpaul@xxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Wed, 16 Jun 2010 12:40:58 -0700
Overheard in Davie Bryne's bar on June 16, 1904.
Davy Byrne came forward from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves,
cleaning his lips with two wipes of his napkin. Herring's blush. Whose
smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete. Too much fat
on the parsnips.
—And here's himself and pepper on him, Nosey Flynn said. Can you give us
a good one for the Gold cup?
—I'm off that, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne answered. I never put anything on a
horse.
—You're right there, Nosey Flynn said.
Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, fresh clean bread, with relish of
disgust, pungent mustard, the feety savour of green cheese. Sips of his
wine soothed his palate. Not logwood that. Tastes fuller this weather
with the chill off.
Nice quiet bar. Nice piece of wood in that counter. Nicely planed. Like
the way it curves there.
—J J Molloy
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