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Delaney: [319] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [path] [other] [*]
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Delaney: [319] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [path] [other] [*]
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[319]
He smellsipped the cordial juice and, bidding his throat strongly to speed it, set his wineglass delicately down.
— Yes, he said. He's the organiser in point of fact.
No fear: no brains.
Bloom reassures himself that NF isn't malicious
Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched. Flea having a good square meal.
— He had a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, over that boxing match Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the Portobello barracks. By God, he had the little kipper down in the county Carlow he was telling me...
Jack Mooney in Dubliners
18yo 'Myles' was a barber in 1901 (there are several other Keoghs named Myles and Miles but no Myler's in 1901 or 1911)
actual date: 29 April 1904
Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his glass. No, snuffled it up.
— For near a month, man, before it came off. Sucking duck eggs by God till further orders. Keep him off the boose, see? O, by God, Blazes is a hairy chap.
Davy Byrne came forward from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips with two wipes of his napkin. Herring's blush. Whose smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete. Too much fat on the parsnips.
"tuckstitched" refers to the fabric not the hem |
so the moral DavyB has been eating or drinking... but so what?
maybe from 'it would make a red herring blush'? (it sounds more like the smile of the vanishing Cheshire cat)
"Whose smile..." ♬ (see also p83) mawkishly sentimental
"such and such" = 'truthfulness'
'too much butter on the parsnips' would logically imply not enough kind words (which could have substituted for some of the food)??? but the song lyric is quite the opposite
(Joyce is probably intentionally disguising some meaning here, lost in Bloom's poor memory for sayings)
— And here's himself and pepper on him, Nosey Flynn said. Can you give us a good one for the Gold cup?
"pepper on him" puns full-of-energy with having-apparently-just-eaten
— I'm off that, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne answered. I never put anything on a horse.
— You're right there, Nosey Flynn said.
Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, fresh clean bread, with relish of disgust, pungent mustard, the feety savour of green cheese. Sips of his wine soothed his palate. Not logwood that. Tastes fuller this weather with the chill off.
LB trusts DavyB washed his hands first? (Joyce needs to warn us that LB's disgust is not directed towards DavyB)
Nice quiet bar. Nice piece of wood in that counter. Nicely planed. Like the way it curves there.
(the bar is marble now)
— I wouldn't do anything at all in that line, Davy Byrne said. It ruined many a man the same horses.
Vintners' sweepstake. Licensed for the sale of beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the premises. Heads I win tails you lose.
— True for you, Nosey Flynn said. Unless you're in the know. There's no straight sport going now. Lenehan gets some good ones. He's giving Sceptre today. Zinfandel's the favourite, lord Howard de Walden's, won at Epsom. Morny Cannon is riding him. I could have got seven to one against Saint Amant a fortnight before.
Zinfandel: 5 to 4
Sceptre: 7 to 4
Maximum II: 10 to 1
Throwaway: 20 to 1 [p82]
St Amant had won the Derby on 2 June, but was not running in the Cup
bettors happily delude themselves with such "could have"s
— That so? Davy Byrne said.
mysteries:
[DD 03:22-04:28]
[DD 00:00-02:09]
[IM 57:56-1:00:14]
[LV1 13:36-16:05]
[LV2 35:41-37:26]
[LV2 00:26-01:33]
lestrygonians: 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175
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