An Irish Country Christmas (2008)
“Barry asked from where he sat at the dining-room table.
“Finished and I’m famished, a word incidentally derived from the same root as famine.” O’Reilly sat, rubbed his hands, then picked up his knife and fork. He glanced from the table to the sideboard.
“And the Great Famine started in Ireland in eighteen forty-five when the potato crop failed . . . But there’s no risk of being short of vittles here, not with Kinky in the kitchen.”
O’Reilly wasn’t so sure. The sideboard must have taken a lesson... from Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. It was completely bare. He frowned.
There was a plate in front of him. On it sat a solitary hard-boiled egg, three lettuce leaves, a tomato, six slices of cucumber, and a stick of celery. “Rabbit food,” he growled. Then he softened. He knew, he absolutely knew, there was a second course to come. He’d known it since he’d smelled it cooking earlier that morning. He might as well eat up his salad with good grace. “Pass the mayonnaise,”MoreLess
“Finished and I’m famished, a word incidentally derived from the same root as famine.” O’Reilly sat, rubbed his hands, then picked up his knife and fork. He glanced from the table to the sideboard.
“And the Great Famine started in Ireland in eighteen forty-five when the potato crop failed . . . But there’s no risk of being short of vittles here, not with Kinky in the kitchen.”
O’Reilly wasn’t so sure. The sideboard must have taken a lesson... from Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. It was completely bare. He frowned.
There was a plate in front of him. On it sat a solitary hard-boiled egg, three lettuce leaves, a tomato, six slices of cucumber, and a stick of celery. “Rabbit food,” he growled. Then he softened. He knew, he absolutely knew, there was a second course to come. He’d known it since he’d smelled it cooking earlier that morning. He might as well eat up his salad with good grace. “Pass the mayonnaise,”MoreLess
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