I wonder if there's internet access in heaven? ...does the wifi only work well in the lobby....?

Well Uncle Michael, as you look out at me from this digital page, in your various guises.... younger Michael, younger Michael again and with no tache, well-turned-out Michael graciously accepting an honour... for some reason the first story that comes into my head about you doesn't have Rita in it at all, and to me this is bizarre...

< pause to note that this site does not have auto-correct spelling! And who on earth knows how to spell bizzarre???!! Apologies in advance for all spelling errors herein... maybe God will correct them for me be fore you log-in Uncle Michael... >

... (ok, back to the story)... yes, bizzare/bizzarre/bizarr to have a story about Michael that doesn't feature Rita too, because to me it's always been RitaandMichael (and never MichaelandRita... enough said), like fishandchips, or ginandtonic, or StatlerandWaldorf... and it always will be RitaandMichael because as long as you are alive in the memory of the people who knew you, you live on, that's the way it is.

So, yeah, being not only my Aunt and Uncle, but also my Godparents (lucky them, eh?!), Rita and Michael were kind enough (they were not actually given an option, to the best of my knowledge...) to have me stay with them in Bellevue a time or two, and it was on one of these visits that I have a distinct memory of opening my eyes (barely... long story) to find Uncle Michael checking for my pulse, and looking decidedly relieved to find it.

In hindsight, his relief may have been as closely related to his success at summoning some historic first aid training skills, as it was to me being alive!

In my haze (my darling cousin Paul and his friends - all of whom were always very good to me, and were highly entertaining fun, it must be said - had introduced me to Jagermeister the previous evening. Unfortunately they probably hadn't considered monitoring my intake, me being an "adult" and all...) anyway, in my half-concious haze, I remember thinking, as Uncle Michael checked to see if he was down a Godchild, how nice and soft and warm his hands were.... and how nice it was of him to check in on me...

This was immediately prior to me realising that I absolutely had to vomit NOW (!) and then leaping from my apparent unconsciousness, and dashing out of the room like Usain Bolt out of the blocks for the 100m final!!! I'm fairly sure I knocked Uncle Michael over, in my attempt not to spew all over him, and even if I didn't, I definitely gave him a pretty good fright!

By the time I came back from the bathroom, Michael had gone back to the kitchen, ...and by the time Rita rocked home a few hours later there was almost no evidence that she'd nearly lost a niece, or that I'd nearly knocked Michael out while he was nursing me out of my self-induced coma!

So thanks for that Uncle Michael, thanks lots. And I'll toast you with that memory, and a knowing smile...

slán abhaile,
xxxx Fi