At the time I had a colleague named Mark. A little bit stingy, he tells me from time to time that his son doesn't recognize others, he only remembers me, and he always uses his body movements to match his hip-pop tone to let me teach him how to hit on Asian girls, because he is very jealous of the people around me Those beautiful girls. Another colleague, Kevin, my boss, a Filipino-British man, is very close to me (in my experience in the UK it is very rare for him to be as good as I think he is). If in that period, among the people I will never forget, one is him and the other is Rumina. Rumina is a very cute girl. We can't be regarded as iron buddies, but we can be the kind of friends who are very concerned about the spiritual level. . There's Greta, a very blond and busty Australian girl, and three other people who are more irrelevant.
I vaguely remember that one afternoon, when Kevin talked to me, he told me that there would be a new girl. I laughed and asked "Thank god finally I can have a new vision of beauty. Is she pretty? How is the body?" Kevin answered with a joking as usual "U Horrible dog! Yeah she is a hot blondie." Haha I didn't realize that the new girl would carry a family story.
Her name is Mary, a sentimental person who can cry in front of people, but is also good at the "gong scheming" of girls (I haven't read the palace scheming, I apologize if the word is wrong). I can't say I like it, but I can count it as hate, because the way she usually appears to be very pretentious and win sympathy with coquettish tears is very indifferent to me, and sometimes it can be called annoying when it comes to myself. As she passed the evaluation period smoothly, our relationship slowly began to develop in my gentleman's way.
I just started my night shift one afternoon and found that Mary was a little down. No matter how much I usually keep my distance, I still need a greeting when I need to be concerned. Mary told me that she met a French woman in the afternoon and talked to her very nicely and gave her all the help. The French woman asked where Mary was from because she knew that Mary's accent was not English. Mary smiled and replied that she was from Northern Ireland. The French woman's wrinkled face was deeper, and she even pouted and mumbled a few words in French and went straight away. . Only Mary was left holding the watch in her hand, stunned.
A kind of sympathy from a foreign land melted me. I hugged Mary and patted her on the back, telling her that it was nothing. There will always be these unreasonable and uneducated people in my life. In the following time, I deliberately took care of her feelings, asking her from time to time and comforting her not to care. Afterwards we had a very pleasant conversation when there were few people in the mall.
She asked me if I had been to Northern Ireland, I said no, but I wanted to go; she said that if you have any questions, you can contact her, she will help, I said yes, thank you very much; I asked her when she was young Are you troubled by politics? She said yes. In fact, their family has received threats and they have to be very careful and low-key. Sometimes there are private security guards. Is it Brendan Duddy? I said no, who was he; Mary was proud to say it was my grandfather, and told me, under my suspicious eyes, that his grandfather was a former spy, an important figure in the peace process in Northern Ireland (I attach here Wikipedia on Mary's grandfather http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brendan_Duddy ). I also went to Wikipedia to find information on her grandfather, and expressed my surprise and admiration. I said that I probably knew about the complexities of Northern Ireland, Ireland and the United Kingdom, and I had also seen two movies (Shadow Dancer and The Devil's Own, which Mary has never seen it). To show my respect for Mary's grandfather, I begged Mary to tell me about her grandfather's heroic deeds (where did my heroism come from?). But it's a pity that Mary knows so little that she only uses the name Blair.
The next day, I was still a little excited. I told Kevin that Mary's grandfather was Duddy, someone who helped with the peace process in Northern Ireland. Kevin shrugged, "OK?" and politely let me continue. I told Greta and Goldilocks just gave me a look like "Okay, I don't know and don't care, you go ahead, I think about my own business". When I told Mark he was checking his Instagram for the titties without saying a word (Mark is a typical black guy, a straight Ass-man). I only had one mood at the time, WTH! He can be regarded as a shadow hero for the safety of your life, why you are not familiar with him but don't care. Later I found out that I was actually the dickhead, why did I worship a shadowy figure in a cold and alien land when I was still struggling.
Later, I watched Ronin,
Mary left two months after I left, and went to an artist's studio to be an assistant, a girl studying art, a wealthy family life abandoned in Northern Ireland and came to London alone with Bearded geek's boyfriend shares a dream girl in southwest London with others, and finally finds her way in life. She's also more and more disconnected from Duddy, her last name.
Later, when I watched In the Name of the Father, I recalled when I asked Mary if I could ask her grandfather to send me a book written by him with an inscription; Mary agreed, but there was no further news, There was only one time when she told me apologetically that she went home once, but because her personal arrangements were too tight, she didn't have time to visit her grandfather, and reassured me that her grandfather already knew what I asked for the autograph and was ready for me .
From time to time I remember a man named Brien, a big guy from Northern Ireland.
At that time, I was waiting for people near Finsbury park subway station, and I randomly entered a bar. It was a Friday night, and a group of Northern Irish drinkers in the bar played Northern Irish music with violins and tambourines. I still have the video from the time, their music was very good; I visited again on a Saturday night and met Brien with no drinkers playing music; he has a very strong accent that I had to work hard to understand He was pleased, but he didn't care, invited me to drink, chatted with me, and used his Nokia brick machine to take pictures with me. I remember that there was a drinking friend of his, a middle-aged Northern Irish woman, except for a cold smile, only the silhouette of her drinking alone was left.
Later, I watched The wind that shakes the barley, and I thought of Mary, or more formally, Miss Duddy.
I don't want to call her Miss Duddy, but I think Mary is the real her.
I also miss Kevin very much, because he is a friend in the British sense, no borders, no race, just a real friend. We live in peace, for ourselves, for our children, for our family, why do we have a quality that is far from ourselves? He is not unpatriotic, he loves his family, his family is what he has, his country.
Right and wrong, nobody wants to be a dickhead,
Mary, she's going to get married; she's got a younger sister at home, and maybe they'll both change their surnames, and nobody remembers that she's from Duddy. But I dare say that she is very happy because she lives her own life.
I was once told that the depravity of Northern Ireland, that the well-dressed rascal on the streets of Belfast would ask you for a cigarette with a cup of Starbucks.
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