 The 1960s came very late to the time of Enes Gorthy, when I was born and brought up. It almost didn't come at all, it came so late, so it seemed like the 1990s. I mean, no one really was allowed to have long hair, you couldn't have long hair. I mean, if you're a man or a boy, the Beatles never came to the town. I don't remember any mini skirts or even maxi skirts. I don't remember anything really that one associates in general with the 60s. Except for one thing, which I'm going to read about now, which was that some packages arrived in the town and they sort of changed the town fundamentally, at least from women's point of view, but from men's too because we had to look at the women. And anyway, Nora's husband was about six months dead. He was called Morris. He's got two sons who are called Donal and Connor. They're about 12 and eight. And there's a mention of a very severe brother-in-law called Jim and his sister Margaret, who disapprove of many things. On Wednesday morning, she went downtown and had her hair done. Talking to Bernie and the hairdressers about a new system of dyeing hair she'd read about. Wondering if it was time that she did something about the gray. I wouldn't like it blue, she said. I know what you mean, Bernie replied. And if it was too black, then it would look dyed. And it was never blonde. Everyone in the town knows I was never blonde. So it's a good brown so that it might not look dyed. I could try this one. Bernie showed her a package with a photograph of a woman with curly brown hair that looked natural. Maybe just start off with a small bit, she said. No, the instructions say to use the whole thing. I've used it before. It's very popular. You'll be surprised who has it. Well, try it so, Nora said. Once the dye had been applied, Bernie put a nylon net on Nora's head and left her to flick through some magazines. When she saw that she would not be home in time to cook a proper dinner, this time to have dinner in the middle of the day, a proper dinner for the boys, she regretted having come here at all and knew that she would have to go soon. She signalled to Bernie, who was now busy with two women who had come in together and appeared to need to consult each other about each clip of the scissors. I'd be right with you, Bernie said. When she came over to remove the net, Bernie told her not to worry or look too closely, as the real change would come only once the dryer and brush and comb were used. Nora was aware that the two women Bernie had been looking after were studying her closely. Nora wondered if she should not have consulted other women before getting her hair dyed for the first time, but she couldn't think of anyone she could have asked. Both of her sisters, she presumed, dyed their hair, but she'd never heard them talking about it. Slowly as she watched Bernie working with the hairdryer, she realised that she was being given the hairstyle of a much younger woman and that the women watching it all happen knew that and were taking it in with considerable satisfaction. The more Bernie worked, the more her hair seemed to look like a wig. She knew that the dye would take time to wash out, but in the mirror she could see how pleased Bernie was with her own work there. There would be no point in complaining. It's not a bit young for me, she asked. I think you look great, Bernie replied. This cut is very fashionable at the moment. I've never had a fashionable cut before, Nora said. When it was finished, she knew that anyone who saw her on the way home would think that she had lost her mind or that she was trying to look like a young woman rather than someone who was recently widowed. It'll take a few days to get used to, Bernie said, but no one has grey hair anymore. Does the dye not look very unnatural? And in a few days it will lose that look and people will think that you've had it all your life. You look very worried, but I promise you that by the weekend you'll be delighted with it. You can't wash it out, can you? No, but it will fade and I guarantee that you'll be back in a month for the same again. I've never known anyone to go back to the grey, but maybe the next time we'll think of putting some highlights in. They're all the rage now as well. Highlights? No, no, I don't think so. Outside she lifted her head high and hoped that all the women in Court Street and John Street would be busy cooking and that none of them would be standing at the door. She prayed that she would meet no one she knew in. In her mind she went through the worst possible encounters, the people who would most deplore the idea. They were their husband six months in the grave. She had dyed her hair a colour it had never been before. She thought of Jim, who's her brother-in-law, she thought of Jim and knew that she would have to face him and Margaret within a week. They would not know what to think. As she saw Mrs. Hogan from John Street walking towards her, Nora could not tell whether Mrs. Hogan simply did not recognise her or if she wanted to get by her without making any comment. Just as Mrs. Hogan approached her, she seemed almost to jump. Her face quivered and then she stopped. Well, that will take some getting used to, she said. Nora tried to smile. Was it Bernie? Mrs. Hogan asked. Nora nodded. I heard she got some new packets in all right. God, I must go to her myself. If Mrs. Hogan, in her apron and a pair of very worn looking shoes, felt that she had the right to comment on Nora's hair, then there was Nora felt no reason why she should not comment and reply. Well, you know where she is. She said dryly looking at Mrs. Hogan's hair, clearly suggesting that it could benefit from some treatment. If Mrs. Hogan took Mrs. Hogan a moment to take in the possibility that she was being insulted. When she arrived home, she boiled some potatoes and opened a tin of peas and put some lamb chops on the pan. When the boys arrived, the potatoes were not ready. She waited upstairs, calling down to them to let them know that their dinner would be a bit late. She sat in front of the mirror at the dressing table and tried to work out if it was anything she could do to make her hair look more normal. She wished she had told Bernie not to use the lacquer, which was sticky and had a sweet smell. As soon as the boys saw her, they both became quiet. Dona looked away while Connor moved towards her. He reached up and touched her hair. It's all hard, he said. Where did you get it? I had my hair done this morning. She said, do you like it? What's under there? Under what? Under what you have on your head. What I have on my head is my hair. Are you going to go out with that? He asked. Dona glanced at her and looked away. The second bit I'm going to read is there's a stretch of the Wexford coast on the east side because it's a corner county, so we have a south coast too, but on the east side. It begins in a place called Cush, C-U-S-H, or Ballyconiger Upper. There are cliffs there, and the cliffs are eroding. When we used to go there for the summer, everyone from outside who wasn't from there were referred to as the bathers, meaning that they'd come to get into the sea, which the locals told was an absurd activity and a complete waste of time and dangerous to boot. The locals never got into the sea, but the bathers got into the sea. Every year, the cliff changed its contours so that the men, except my father, who always pretended he had something more important to do like read a book, would dig steps, make steps down so that people could get the kids and the carricots. It always rained, so why people were near the sea, I don't know, because it would bring transistor radios, carricots, picnics, the whole day's goods down the cliff really slowly, as though everything depended on it, and they would make you get into the sea when it was freezing. It was really awful. Then what would happen, of course, my mother would always insist that the cloud, which was clearly going to mean really heavy rain was coming towards us from somewhere. She would say, oh, that cloud would pass over very quickly. Then, of course, it would start to rain, and they would ignore the rain for a while until we would just scream too much, and then they would have to get the carricots, the transistor radios, the picnic, and run madly up the beach and up the strand and up the cliff and just go home for the day. And then if you went further south, you went to a place called Keatings or Balli Conegar Lore, and that was interesting because it had a river that changed course every year, and that was always interesting as to what the river had decided to do, and there was a small footbridge over the river, which had to be changed every year, too, because the river changed. And then if you went further south, you approached a place called Balli Valu, which had a convent owned by, it still does, has a convent owned by the Sisters of St. John of God, which is a sort of retreat house. It was a lot of fun because if you were on that strand, like, nuns could appear. I don't think Vatican II had much effect because the nuns seemed to be wearing their full habits. So you'd be there on the beach playing or doing something, and you'd see two nuns. They'd say, Mammy, look, nuns! And it would be like something had come out from the deep, like sharp whales or octopuses or something absolutely strange. We'd all stand up to look as two. I suppose they were praying as what nuns would do on a beach. I mean, they weren't doing anything else, as far as walking along, praying, two nuns in full black habit on an Irish beach. And then if you went further south again, you went to Curley Claw, very, very long with sand dunes. And that's where they shot the Normandy sections of Saving Private Ryan. It looked so much like a Normandy beach. But anyway, this section is set on one of those beaches, which is Keating's going towards Bally Valloon. What happens is that Nora's got a job and she doesn't like it, and she's fighting with her boss. And one day, she comes quite close. It's actually stabbing her boss. You know, there's a scissors on the table and she pulls it up and threatens her. And then walks out, and she hasn't been sleeping. She's been sleeping really badly. And she finds herself on the street and then a scourge with a pair of scissors in her hand and rage in her heart. And it's still 11 o'clock in the morning. She can't do what to do.