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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 219/821
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He
crossed
Westmoreland
street
when
apostrophe
S
had
plodded
by
.
Rover
cycleshop
.
Those
races
are
on
today
.
How
long
ago
is
that
?
Year
Phil
Gilligan
died
.
We
were
in
Lombard
street
west
.
Wait
:
was
in
Thom
’
s
.
Got
the
job
in
Wisdom
Hely
’
s
year
we
married
.
Six
years
.
Ten
years
ago
:
ninetyfour
he
died
yes
that
’
s
right
the
big
fire
at
Arnott
’
s
.
Val
Dillon
was
lord
mayor
.
The
Glencree
dinner
.
Alderman
Robert
O
’
Reilly
emptying
the
port
into
his
soup
before
the
flag
fell
.
Bobbob
lapping
it
for
the
inner
alderman
.
Couldn
’
t
hear
what
the
band
played
.
For
what
we
have
already
received
may
the
Lord
make
us
.
Milly
was
a
kiddy
then
.
Molly
had
that
elephantgrey
dress
with
the
braided
frogs
.
Mantailored
with
selfcovered
buttons
.
She
didn
’
t
like
it
because
I
sprained
my
ankle
first
day
she
wore
choir
picnic
at
the
Sugarloaf
.
As
if
that
.
Old
Goodwin
’
s
tall
hat
done
up
with
some
sticky
stuff
.
Flies
’
picnic
too
.
Never
put
a
dress
on
her
back
like
it
.
Fitted
her
like
a
glove
,
shoulders
and
hips
.
Just
beginning
to
plump
it
out
well
.
Rabbitpie
we
had
that
day
.
People
looking
after
her
.
Happy
.
Happier
then
.
Snug
little
room
that
was
with
the
red
wallpaper
.
Dockrell
’
s
,
one
and
ninepence
a
dozen
.
Milly
’
s
tubbing
night
.
American
soap
I
bought
:
elderflower
.
Cosy
smell
of
her
bathwater
.
Funny
she
looked
soaped
all
over
.
Shapely
too
.
Now
photography
.
Poor
papa
’
s
daguerreotype
atelier
he
told
me
of
.
Hereditary
taste
.
He
walked
along
the
curbstone
.
Stream
of
life
.
What
was
the
name
of
that
priestylooking
chap
was
always
squinting
in
when
he
passed
?
Weak
eyes
,
woman
.
Stopped
in
Citron
’
s
saint
Kevin
’
s
parade
.
Pen
something
.
Pendennis
?
My
memory
is
getting
.
Pen
.
.
.
?
Of
course
it
’
s
years
ago
.
Noise
of
the
trams
probably
.
Well
,
if
he
couldn
’
t
remember
the
dayfather
’
s
name
that
he
sees
every
day
.
Bartell
d
’
Arcy
was
the
tenor
,
just
coming
out
then
.
Seeing
her
home
after
practice
.
Conceited
fellow
with
his
waxedup
moustache
.
Gave
her
that
song
Winds
that
blow
from
the
south
.
Windy
night
that
was
I
went
to
fetch
her
there
was
that
lodge
meeting
on
about
those
lottery
tickets
after
Goodwin
’
s
concert
in
the
supperroom
or
oakroom
of
the
Mansion
house
.
He
and
I
behind
.
Sheet
of
her
music
blew
out
of
my
hand
against
the
High
school
railings
.
Lucky
it
didn
’
t
.
Thing
like
that
spoils
the
effect
of
a
night
for
her
.
Professor
Goodwin
linking
her
in
front
.
Shaky
on
his
pins
,
poor
old
sot
.
His
farewell
concerts
.
Positively
last
appearance
on
any
stage
.
May
be
for
months
and
may
be
for
never
.
Remember
her
laughing
at
the
wind
,
her
blizzard
collar
up
.
Corner
of
Harcourt
road
remember
that
gust
.
Brrfoo
!
Blew
up
all
her
skirts
and
her
boa
nearly
smothered
old
Goodwin
.
She
did
get
flushed
in
the
wind
.
Remember
when
we
got
home
raking
up
the
fire
and
frying
up
those
pieces
of
lap
of
mutton
for
her
supper
with
the
Chutney
sauce
she
liked
.
And
the
mulled
rum
.
Could
see
her
in
the
bedroom
from
the
hearth
unclamping
the
busk
of
her
stays
:
white
.
Swish
and
soft
flop
her
stays
made
on
the
bed
.
Always
warm
from
her
.
Always
liked
to
let
her
self
out
.
Sitting
there
after
till
near
two
taking
out
her
hairpins
.
Milly
tucked
up
in
beddyhouse
.
Happy
.
Happy
.
That
was
the
night
.
.
.
—
O
,
Mr
Bloom
,
how
do
you
do
?
