The Mother made a remarkable recovery after she crashed the car into the puck goat, which is more than can be said for the puck, who roared and groaned and then expired peacefully.

She has a temporary replacement car, compliments of the insurance company, and with Stefan as chief engineer she’s tourin’ the motor dealerships of South Tipp looking for a permanent replacement. I’m left out of the loop completely but I’m not too upset about it; in fact, I’m delighted with the bit of freedom – it’s almost like being in my 20s all over again.

However, they tell me the path of true love rarely runs smooth and I’m just wonderin’ when this affair will explode or fizzle out. Of course, it could continue to a matrimonial conclusion and I could find myself givin’ the Mother away.

My friends seem to be more concerned than I am at what the upshot of all this might mean for me. Tom Walshe has lectured me a few times on inheritance and disinheritance while Superquinn is also worried I might find myself without a place to live.

“Whether you like it or not, you’re a gooseberry in this situation,” says she, “and as a gooseberry you’ll be given the door sooner than you think.”

Initially I let all the advice and warnings go in one ear and out the other. I know the Mother well, she likes the odd bit of diversion in her life and Stefan is it at the moment. I’m sure she’ll choose her opportunity to tell the good man his time is up and then she’ll return to the routine that has sustained us over the years.

But what if my friends are right? What if this is the real deal and she decides to become Mrs Woszniaski? I could find myself without a driver, a cook, a housekeeper and a chief adviser. Now that would be a disaster on a multitude of fronts, a recipe for total chaos both personally and politically.

My mind began to fill with doomsday scenarios and I began to imagine things. If Stefan and the Mother decide to tie the knot, what will happen the house in Killdicken? Might the Mother want to hold onto it and send me out to Lisnapookybawna? Given that I can’t drive, I might as well move to outer Mongolia.

Last Saturday herself and Stefan were off on yet another car-huntin’ expedition and I was mopin’ around Killdicken like a lost sheep. Pa Quirke pulled up as I was slopin’ out the Borrisnangoul road with my head down.

“What’s wrong, Maurice?” he asked. “You look as if the world has just fallen on top of you.”

“Oh Pa,” says I, “I’m worried about what will become of me if the Mother and Stefan head for the altar.”

“Cop yourself on, Maurice,” says he. “I know your Mother as well as you do. As soon as she gets tired of him he’ll get the road. The best thing you could do now is play along, pretend you’re very happy for the two of them and, like a slow puncture, just wait for the air to go out of the thing. If you start gettin’ awkward you could turn a casual friendship into a hot affair and then where would you be?”

We went for an afternoon pint and I came home reassured that all would be well. Not long after that, the Mother came in and sat down beside me while I was watchin’ Winning Streak.

“Well, did ye buy a car?”

“I saw one I liked,” says she, “but no decision yet.”

“Did ye go far?”

“Waterford ... by the way, I’ve something to tell you.”

I began to break into a cold sweat: “This is it,” I said to myself, “I’ll be hitchin’ around Killdicken and livin’ off Stickie Stakelum’s chips.”

“What have you to tell me?” I asked, tryin’ to hide my panic.

“It’s about myself and Stefan.”

“What about ye?”

“We’re goin’ on a little holiday.”

“Where to?”

“Well, it’s not quite a holiday.”

Feck, she’s talkin’ about the honeymoon and they’re not even married.

“If it isn’t a holiday, what is it?”

“We’re goin’ to Lourdes on a five-day pilgrimage.”

“And nothing else?”

“Isn’t that enough to be getting’ on with? I’d prefer to be goin’ to Lanzarote myself but Stefan feels he needs holy water more than seawater. ”

“As long as you don’t come back married, or somethin’,” I said to her.

It slipped out before I knew what I was sayin’.

“Now, isn’t that a great idea. Wouldn’t Lourdes be a grand place to tie the knot,” says she, “I must mention it to Stefan.”

Me and my big mouth. CL