"The drb sustains a level of commentary on Irish and international matters that no other journal in Ireland and few elsewhere can reach. It deserves all the support that can be given it." X
Space to Think, a new book celebrating ten years of the Dublin Review of Books More Information 

Dreamtime in Llareggub

Greetings, on St David’s Day, from Llareggub, where Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard is dreaming of nagging her two late husbands.

First Voice
Now, in her iceberg-white, holily laundered crinoline nightgown, under virtuous polar sheets, in her spruced and scoured dust-defying bedroom in trig and trim Bay View, a house for paying guests, at the top of the town, Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard widow, twice, of Mr Ogmore, linoleum, retired, and Mr Pritchard, failed bookmaker, who maddened by besoming, swabbing and scrubbing, the voice of the vacuum-cleaner and the fume of polish, ironically swallowed disinfectant, fidgets in her rinsed sleep, wakes in a dream, and nudges in the ribs dead Mr Ogmore, dead Mr Pritchard, ghostly on either side.

Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard
Mr Ogmore!
Mr Pritchard!
It is time to inhale your balsam.

Mr Ogmore
Oh, Mrs Ogmore!

Mr Pritchard
Oh, Mrs Pritchard!

Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard
Soon it will be time to get up.
Tell me your tasks in order.

Mr Ogmore
I must put my pyjamas in the drawer marked pyjamas.

Mr Pritchard
I must take my cold bath which is good for me.

Mr Ogmore

I must wear my flannel band to ward off sciatica.

Mr Pritchard
I must dress behind the curtain and put on my apron.

Mr Ogmore
I must blow my nose.

Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard
In the garden, if you please.

Mr Ogmore
In a piece of tissue-paper which I afterwards burn.

Mr Pritchard
I must take my salts which are nature’s friend.

Mr Ogmore
I must boil the drinking water because of germs.

Mr Pritchard
I must make my herb tea which is free from tannin.

Mr Ogmore
And have a charcoal biscuit which is good for me.

Mr Pritchard
I may smoke one pipe of asthma mixture.

Mrs Ogmore Pritchard
In the woodshed, if you please.

Mr Pritchard
And dust the parlour and spray the canary.

Mr Ogmore
I must put on rubber gloves and search the peke for fleas.

Mr Pritchard
I must dust the blinds and then I must raise them.

Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard
And before you let the sun in, mind it wipes its shoes.

http://blog.waterstones.com/2013/02/cheat-sheet-dylan-thomas/#more-4568

01/03/13