I’ve never disliked Irishmen. In fact being a born Newfoundlander, the lilting accent and ruddy faced smiles of Dublin make me feel more at home than I usually do on the American mainland. There is one Irishman, however, towards whom I‘ve recently developed a decided antipathy. His name is Murphy.
That final bleed had been the end of me. It felt like I had just flushed the last of my lifeblood away. Darkness closed in. Snapping for breath, I began to panic.
