Memorandum from Mrs. Caroline Desmond to Mrs. Maire O’Carolan
DEAR MRS. O’C,
Another one! Last night, just after supper, for the space of a good thirty minutes or so. Now I know, Mrs. O’C, that you know as much as I do about the mysteries of electricity, which is precisely nothing, but you have the advantage over me in knowing virtually every soul between here and Enniskillen. Would it be possible for you to find among this host of acquaintances and relatives someone who could come and have a look at the wiring or the junction box or whatever is the matter with the infernal thing? I do not, positively not, want a repeat of Tuesday’s catastrophe. First Emily storms out in tears and tantrums muttering how embarrassing it all was, little children’s stuff, and how she’d wanted boys there, like an adult party; not cakes and ginger ale and blindman’s bluff. How sharper than a serpent’s tooth, indeed, Mrs. O’C! And as if that wasn’t enough, the lights go out and I am left trying to calm a roomful of hysterical, screaming girls. The trials of parenthood, Mrs. O’C. That aside, Mrs. O’C, do give it a try, will you? Edward promised to get a man up from town to do something on Wednesday, but you know how utterly useless he is about anything that isn’t a million miles away in the depths of space. If you can’t sort it out, it’ll mean my tedious brother Michael calling out to have a look and going on and on and on about the grand all-electric future the Sligo, Leitrim, Fermanagh, and South Donegal Electrical Supply Company is going to provide for us. The man cannot even change an incandescent bulb!
Incidentally, only cold meats and salads for supper, if you please; Emily and I will be over at Rathkennedy House all of today. We hope to be back here by about eight o’clock.