Dryrobe?
That is the question.
Well, our answer is we don’t want dryrobers or their type here
If you step into the Irish Sea in December, you’ve got to feel the pain
Both in the water and when you come out.
What’s the use otherwise?
Dryrobers are not like us.
Our tribe tremble, we dry ourselves off with a bit of a towel
We sit on the rocks or on the edge of the boot of the car
Shivering.
We wrap ourselves in fellowship and hot coffee, not in a warm towelled tent.
Your lot are mommycoddled, spoonfed wimps
You want the thrill without the sting
The pleasure without the anguish.
Go home and wear your dryrobe there
We don’t want your ilk around here in South County Dublin.
Kathryn Crowley, 2020
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