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Delaney:     Useen:      [*]
"officers... in the swim" (cf Seymour?)
1885 Plasto's ad
Delaney: On the doorstep he felt in his hip pocket for the latchkey. Not there. In the trousers I left off. Must get it. Potato I have. Creaky wardrobe. No use disturbing her. She turned over sleepily that time. He pulled the halldoor to after him very quietly, more, till the footleaf dropped gently over the threshold, a limp lid. Looked shut. All right till I come back anyhow.
(BM coincidentally imagined a poxy bowsy leaving off trousers)
the potato will be explained in chapter 15 as "a hard black shrivelled potato" "Poor mamma's panacea" "A talisman. Heirloom." "Preservative against Plague and Pestilence" [more]
it's hard to see how he would have transferred the potato but not the key to the black pants?
why does he call the front door the 'halldoor'?
#7 Eccles pic, pic, door, diagram, Quicktimes
|#7 (center) and #6 (right)|
He crossed to the bright side, avoiding the loose cellarflap of number seventyfive. The sun was nearing the steeple of George's church. Be a warm day I fancy. Specially in these black clothes feel it more. Black conducts, reflects (refracts is it?) the heat. But I couldn't go in that light suit. Make a picnic of it.
cf SD: I can't wear them if they're grey.
Delaney: His eyelids sank quietly often as he walked in happy warmth. Boland's breadvan delivering with trays our daily but she prefers yesterday's loaves turnovers crisp crowns hot. Makes you feel young.
|Dublin was just beginning to motorize|
Somewhere in the east: early morning: set off at dawn, travel round in front of the sun, steal a day's march on him. Keep it up for ever never grow a day older technically. Walk along a strand, strange land, come to a city gate, sentry there, old ranker too, old Tweedy's big moustaches, leaning on a long kind of a spear. Dander through awned streets. Turbaned faces going by. Dark caves of carpet shops, big man, Turko the terrible, seated crosslegged smoking a coiled pipe. Cries of sellers in the streets. Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet.
|a timeless cliche|
SD also remembers Turko the terrible on p10
Bloom as Odysseus is imagining his return 'home'
Delaney: Wander along all day. Might meet a robber or two. Well, meet him.
(Bloom's imagined bravery? cf Stephen's thoughts on drowning p45)
Getting on to sundown. The shadows of the mosques along the pillars: priest with a scroll rolled up. A shiver of the trees, signal, the evening wind. I pass on. Fading gold sky. A mother watches from her doorway. She calls her children home in their dark language. High wall: beyond strings twanged. Night sky, moon, violet, colour of Molly's new garters. Strings. Listen. A girl playing one of those instruments what do you call them: dulcimers. I pass.
|from the title page of "In the Track of the Sun"|
Delaney: Probably not a bit like it really. Kind of stuff you read: in the track of the sun. Sunburst on the titlepage. He smiled, pleasing himself. What Arthur Griffith said about the headpiece over the Freeman leader: a homerule sun rising up in the northwest from the laneway behind the bank of Ireland. He prolonged his pleased smile. Ikey touch that: homerule sun rising up in the northwest.
Bloom owns a book called "In the Track of the Sun"
'ikey' (from Isaac/Ike) is mildly antisemitic
mysteries: meet him
calypso: 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67