Page 225 (10.544-583) "He checked... about old Bloom."

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editions: [1922] [html] [archv]
notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [∞] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [0] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [Lenehan] [other] [*]

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He checked his tale a moment but broke out in a wheezy laugh.



— But wait till I tell you, he said. Delahunt of Camden street had the catering and yours truly was chief bottlewasher. Bloom and the wife were there. Lashings of stuff we put up: port wine and sherry and curaçoa to which we did ample justice. Fast and furious it was. After liquids came solids. Cold joints galore and mince pies...

53yo in 1911, 44yo in 1901

— I know, M'Coy said. The year the missus was there...



Lenehan linked his arm warmly.

Lenehan overwhelms (with charm) M'Coy's attempts to take back the conversation


— But wait till I tell you, he said. We had a midnight lunch too after all the jollification and when we sallied forth it was blue o'clock the morning after the night before. Coming home it was a gorgeous winter's night on the Featherbed Mountain. Bloom and Chris Callinan were on one side of the car and I was with the wife on the other. We started singing glees and duets: Lo, the early beam of morning. She was well primed with a good load of Delahunt's port under her bellyband. Every jolt the bloody car gave I had her bumping up against me. Hell's delights! She has a fine pair, God bless her. Like that.

streetview now? 1909 map?

Lenehan was just a dishwasher but joined the party?

why didn't Molly want Bloom beside her?

does Lenehan sing anywhere else?

lyrics


He held his caved hands a cubit from him, frowning:

= ~18 inches, or length of forearm


— I was tucking the rug under her and settling her boa all the time. Know what I mean?



His hands moulded ample curves of air. He shut his eyes tight in delight, his body shrinking, and blew a sweet chirp from his lips.

Molly's version: "that sponger he was making free with me after the Glencree dinner coming back that long joult over the featherbed mountain"

Molly's "gay sweet chirping whistling" has just been interrupted by the sailor


— The lad stood to attention anyhow, he said with a sigh. She's a gamey mare and no mistake. Bloom was pointing out all the stars and the comets in the heavens to Chris Callinan and the jarvey: the great bear and Hercules and the dragon and the whole jingbang lot. But, by God, I was lost, so to speak, in the milky way. He knows them all, faith. At last she spotted a weeny weeshy one miles away. And what star is that, Poldy? says she. By God, she had Bloom cornered. That one, is it? says Chris Callinan, sure that's only what you might call a pinprick. By God, he wasn't far wide of the mark.

"game ball... game filly... gamey mare"

"comets" is astronomically mistaken, and the constellations are plausible for summer, not winter:

Lenehan stopped and leaned on the riverwall, panting with soft laughter.


— I'm weak, he gasped.

cf? p129 O'Madden Burke to Lenehan: "Help! he sighed. I feel a strong weakness."


M'Coy's white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave. Lenehan walked on again. He lifted his yachtingcap and scratched his hindhead rapidly. He glanced sideways in the sunlight at M'Coy.

Molly will describe M'Coy as a "white head of cabbage", Bloom will call him a "gouger"

1900 yachting cap

also Joyce's 1904 cap?


— He's a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, he said seriously. He's not one of your common or garden... you know... There's a touch of the artist about old Bloom.

they're less than two blocks from the Grattan bridge where the cavalcade will pass them

Hart misattributes this line to M'Coy?

>

mysteries:


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