Denis Lehane: The high price of love
Nowadays money talks, and the man hoping to woo a woman with turnips and turf has about as much hope of success as I have of riding a winner at Cheltenham. Picture: iStock
The trouble with being married these days is that it can cost a fellow a fortune.
In the olden days, once a woman had a turnip for the dinner pot she was content.
Seldom would you hear of marital strife in a house where the harmonious couple sat by a crackling fire and talked about the happenings in the bog or at the creamery.
The pig might also be stretched out in front of the fire. And more luck to him if he was.
It was a homely time — an era when love was expressed not by cards, flowers or chocolates, but by tossing an extra sod of turf onto the fire.
Alas and alack, such idyllic days of contentment and bliss are well and truly in the past. Like the hair on my head, they are gone, but not forgotten.
Nowadays money talks, and the man hoping to woo a woman with turnips and turf has about as much hope of success as I have of riding a winner at Cheltenham.
Earlier this month, as you well know, was Valentine's day. And bar Christmas day, a more commercial event it would be hard to find.
So you can only imagine the stress and turmoil I go through each and every year struggling to find not only the perfect gift to answer Valentine's call, but also a birthday.
If you have to purchase a box of chocolates on Valentine's day, there's every chance I will have to pitch in for two.
If you have to buy one card, I will need second.
Needless to say, I need the money of Rockefeller each February.
Last year, a fellow who spotted me shopping in Macroom town asked "How many women do you have on the go?"
Yerra 'tis embarrassing.
Anyhow this year, in an effort to rein in the spending, I asked two of my daughters for help.
And seeing as how Valentine's eve was on a Sunday, and they were off school, I thought it was the perfect plan. Well, more the fool me.
Being a class of a buffoon who would refuse his daughters nothing, I dutifully agreed to every suggestion they made with regards to presents.
"Oh Mom would like this. Mom would like that," my girls repeated again and again.
The big day, last Monday, will go down in history as the day l forked out more money for the sake of marriage than the Sultan of Brunei.
Chocolates, cards, flowers, and even balloons — you name it, into the basket it went.
From Béal na Bláth to Ballincollig, and every shop in between, no shelf was left untouched by my two eager shopaholics and their flaithulach father.
The price of love, my dear man, has increased twentyfold since the days of turnips and pigs. Is there any way we could go back?
