bit of air. Try to get the message across that I'm getting bored now. "So what about this castle, or whatever?"
"Castle Ward. It's a great spot. Lovely big grounds, a sunken garden, tours of the mansion."
It sounds like a load of shite.
"So Castle Ward isn't actually a castle? It's just a big house?"
"It's a little more than a big house."
"Yeah, but you can see houses anywhere. What's so special about this one?"
I instantly regret the question. Alan slabbers on about mixed architecture and aristocrats or architecture and mixed aristocrats and I tune out for a bit. I think about slot machines and mint ice cream to pass the time. Alan taps the table like he always does when he wants to say something he thinks is important. I tune back in.
"Oh, and if you're interested in castles, there's Aubrey's Castle too. It's on the grounds overlooking the Lough. Very interesting story behind that."
I'm sick of all the chatter.
"Yeah, great. But instead of the history lesson, could you just tell me what the scheme is?"
Alan's shoulders sag slightly. He's good at acting patient, though. I'd like to play a hand of poker with him some time. It's a sure thing I'd clean him out, but I imagine it'd be a bit of a challenge at least.
"Basically," Alan says, "Castle Ward has a few rough edges. If you keep your nose clean for another few weeks, you could be part of a team of young people who'll be tasked to help out with reparations on the grounds."
"Like fixing stuff?"
"Yes."
"Outside?"
"That's right."
"For a whole day, like?"
"Three days, Danny."
I put aside the wee remarks about child labour and the like and give Alan one of my best smiles. The one I usually save for Miss.
"Sign me up, mo chara . Slainté and slan ."
Take a Chill Pill
My head's still spinning with the thought of this trip to Castle Ward. So it's not Newcastle. It's some aul fancy house in the middle of nowhere. Fine. The important thing is I'll be outside . Not the kind of outside like we get here for Unit Activities, with marked out boundaries, cameras and supervisors checking our every move. Proper outside where a wee doggie might trot up to me for a bit of attention. A place where the bastards can't control every single thing about me.
There's a chance I'll even be able to get a fag off somebody. It'll taste like shit, no doubt, but I want to find out for sure myself. All the substance abuse crap that gets drilled into us, it just reminds me of the fun I'm missing out on.
I head for the living room. There'll be nothing good on the TV but I want to sit in a comfy seat after spending so long in that crappy plastic one chatting to Alan. Maybe even get a little time to myself since most of the others will be in the rec room or the sports hall until The Simpsons comes on.
But no. There's somebody here. I recognise Adrian's slumped shoulders before I realise the guy with him is Conan. The barbarian has his head on the arm of one of the sofas. I can't see his face from this angle but he looks as if he could be asleep. Adrian stands in front of him and roots about in the front pocket of his jeans.
"It's in here somewhere," Adrian says.
The speccy bastard hasn't noticed me yet. I'm just inside the open doorway, quiet as a mouse. Maybe he'll slip up and say or do something I can use against him.
Conan shifts a little on the sofa. He's not sleeping then, just trying to chill out. So what's Adrian's game?
"Ah, got it." Adrian pulls his hand out of his pocket and presents something to Conan. "This'll sort you out, big lad."
"I'll be fine." Conan's usual monotone wavers. "It'll pass."
"But what's the point in suffering? This wee tablet will take all the pain away. Best headache cure in the world."
"What is it?"
"Unicorn dust sprinkled with fairy piss. What do you care? Just take the fucking thing."
"I don't trust you."
"Ah, Conan, don't hurt my feelings. We're meant to be pals now. That whole thing from the other day is just water under the
"Castle Ward. It's a great spot. Lovely big grounds, a sunken garden, tours of the mansion."
It sounds like a load of shite.
"So Castle Ward isn't actually a castle? It's just a big house?"
"It's a little more than a big house."
"Yeah, but you can see houses anywhere. What's so special about this one?"
I instantly regret the question. Alan slabbers on about mixed architecture and aristocrats or architecture and mixed aristocrats and I tune out for a bit. I think about slot machines and mint ice cream to pass the time. Alan taps the table like he always does when he wants to say something he thinks is important. I tune back in.
"Oh, and if you're interested in castles, there's Aubrey's Castle too. It's on the grounds overlooking the Lough. Very interesting story behind that."
I'm sick of all the chatter.
"Yeah, great. But instead of the history lesson, could you just tell me what the scheme is?"
Alan's shoulders sag slightly. He's good at acting patient, though. I'd like to play a hand of poker with him some time. It's a sure thing I'd clean him out, but I imagine it'd be a bit of a challenge at least.
"Basically," Alan says, "Castle Ward has a few rough edges. If you keep your nose clean for another few weeks, you could be part of a team of young people who'll be tasked to help out with reparations on the grounds."
"Like fixing stuff?"
"Yes."
"Outside?"
"That's right."
"For a whole day, like?"
"Three days, Danny."
I put aside the wee remarks about child labour and the like and give Alan one of my best smiles. The one I usually save for Miss.
"Sign me up, mo chara . Slainté and slan ."
Take a Chill Pill
My head's still spinning with the thought of this trip to Castle Ward. So it's not Newcastle. It's some aul fancy house in the middle of nowhere. Fine. The important thing is I'll be outside . Not the kind of outside like we get here for Unit Activities, with marked out boundaries, cameras and supervisors checking our every move. Proper outside where a wee doggie might trot up to me for a bit of attention. A place where the bastards can't control every single thing about me.
There's a chance I'll even be able to get a fag off somebody. It'll taste like shit, no doubt, but I want to find out for sure myself. All the substance abuse crap that gets drilled into us, it just reminds me of the fun I'm missing out on.
I head for the living room. There'll be nothing good on the TV but I want to sit in a comfy seat after spending so long in that crappy plastic one chatting to Alan. Maybe even get a little time to myself since most of the others will be in the rec room or the sports hall until The Simpsons comes on.
But no. There's somebody here. I recognise Adrian's slumped shoulders before I realise the guy with him is Conan. The barbarian has his head on the arm of one of the sofas. I can't see his face from this angle but he looks as if he could be asleep. Adrian stands in front of him and roots about in the front pocket of his jeans.
"It's in here somewhere," Adrian says.
The speccy bastard hasn't noticed me yet. I'm just inside the open doorway, quiet as a mouse. Maybe he'll slip up and say or do something I can use against him.
Conan shifts a little on the sofa. He's not sleeping then, just trying to chill out. So what's Adrian's game?
"Ah, got it." Adrian pulls his hand out of his pocket and presents something to Conan. "This'll sort you out, big lad."
"I'll be fine." Conan's usual monotone wavers. "It'll pass."
"But what's the point in suffering? This wee tablet will take all the pain away. Best headache cure in the world."
"What is it?"
"Unicorn dust sprinkled with fairy piss. What do you care? Just take the fucking thing."
"I don't trust you."
"Ah, Conan, don't hurt my feelings. We're meant to be pals now. That whole thing from the other day is just water under the
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