Back to Ireland,  15th August 1985

Another Madonna

 

Ah, Maryam.

My bride.

My soon-to-be bride.

Fifteen years old, a big perm and an attitude to match.

Her earthly mother, Joanna, had brought her and her younger siblings to the grotto gathering in Kilmafanny, presumably in the hope that a Hail Mary might work a miracle.

Joanna was a devout Catholic. A good, hardworking wife and mother of eight, including a set of twins.

Maryam, on the other hand, was a typical teenager. The only touched-for-the-first-time virgin she gave a flying fuck about was the popstar Madonna.

 

Her words not mine.

But she loved her mother. And so, she'd accompany Joanna anywhere if it meant making her happy.

 

.... ✍️