Antrim was a wonderful place in summer, I used to go there with my grandparents, and as a child, I loved it. I would run around as I pleased, free to jump all about my Granfather's garden. He would sit having his tea, waiting for me to get tired, mumbling about me squishing the grass. He wasn't a patient man, and soon went inside in search of a banana or some maggots, depending on his mood. Fishing was one of his favourite pastimes, and those disgusting worms were essential, how else could he attract fish to his fishing rod without a tasty, though squirmy, snack for them?

The banana was another beloved figure in his life; sliced with some wheetabix for breakfast, with tea at lunch time after his sandwich, whenever he had a cup of tea (just for the pleasure of it), if we ever went for a picnic to Malin Head, to Carrick-a-Rede, Ballintoy, Portrush Beach, MrBanana Head came along. He used to say bananas were very good for you, because they are fruit. While my Grandmother would argue saying that "An apple a day keeps the doctor away"

He was not Spanish, but he enjoyed his "siestas", moment I used to arrange a pathetic pony tail on his half bald head, laughing so much I was crying buckets until he woke up and acted normal, not knowing he had a pink bubble with furballs hanging from his head.

Usually after the nap he would go in the kitchen to fetch a cuppa tea and a banana (unless my cousin and I had tried to cook something). In there Granny would be watching "Neighbours" on the telly, and wouldn't notice his hairdo either. I had to wait until he needed the bathroom and saw himself in the mirror to laugh again. And then hide, beacuse he had a bit of a bad temper.

He was a bit headstrong; with 8 or 9 years I could not convince him that Spain was bigger than Ireland, not even if I brought the WorldAtlas from the Library. Walking on top of the cliffs of Fair Head we had our little argument, and as soon as we went home I looked for my Library Card and hurried to fetch the heavy book.
I think he was just trying to annoy me, but well.

There are lots of things I could say about him, but I'll just finish saying this: I miss going to Ireland, yes, but not as much as I would miss it if he were still alive. I has been some years now, but I think about him quite often. Every time I see a magpie I remember his efforts trying to pronounce it in Spanish, or when I see a fishing shop, or when someone says the word "daft", which is what he called me. Also when I see anything related to the Titanic I remember he used to say his father worked to build it in H&W, the shipyard.