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As túas balas » Blog Archive » ceilidh

Así que cando faltan uns minutos prás once da noite, dicímoslles abur aos nosos amigos e marchamos da ceilidh. Temos que apañar ese tren que nos leve dende a viliña aparentemente tranquila de dunblane ata a casa. Despedímonos deles, cos seus pantalóns e saias a cadros, os traxes de festa e as fazulas coloradas, collemos os abrigos no roupeiro e saímos daquela estraña festa. Estamos cansos. Foi un día longo, e bailar xigas agarrados polos cóbados deses borrachos de dunblane non foi sinxelo.
Apañamos o tren, compartímolo cuns adolescentes ruidosos e baixamos nunha parada fría: aínda nos queda un carreiro por entre as corredoiras cheas de pozas, lama e coellos. Tempo abondo pra que pensemos, cada un pola nosa banda, como foi que chegamos aquí.
Tempo abondo pra que el me propoña: cando casemos, temos que facer unha ceilidh, vale?


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