Meeting Mo

I met Mo Hume on Roatan Island, Honduras, in 1997. My girlfriend of the time, Audrey, had a friend doing aid work in El Salvador, and we took a month off work to visit Audrey's friend and pretty much to hang out in various parts of Central America. Having arrived in El Salvador, Catherine (the friend) dragged us off to Roatan Island for a two-week trip which included Christmas Day. We were to meet a bunch of friends of hers up there, which we did, and one of the friends-of-friends (I'm not sure of the connection, to be honest) was Maureen Hume, or Mo as she liked to be called. Mo's Dad, John, has been a big figure in Northern Ireland politics pretty much forever, and was one of the principal architects of the Good Friday Agreement for which he won a share in the Nobel Peace Prize in 1998. Which leads to my abiding memory of Mo: drinking beer, probably at the reggae bar down on the beach, lying in hammocks or sitting against the palm trees, asking each other what our parents did for a living. And noone asked Mo what her Dad did. Her mom, sure (no, I can't recall), but not her Dad. Noone even made a joke about it, like "we're not going to ask you that!" or whatever. It was funny, maybe a little sad, too.

I've not seen her since. I wonder what she's doing?

weekend report

Went to Doolin for the weekend. This is all you need to know:

Waider: When did I fall over?
Winston: You fell over?
Waider: Sure. I have a bruise on the palm of my hand and a cut on my knee.
Winston: (laughs) no idea.


Waider: When did I fall over?
David: You fell over?
Waider: Sure. I have a bruise on the palm of my hand and a cut on my knee.
David: (laughs) no idea.


Waider: When did I fall over?
Kevin: Which time?