They say a week is a long time in politics. Accordingly, several political lifetimes on both coasts of the Wild Atlantic Way have been lived by all parties, including you and I, since the last time we dealt with the antics of the competing pair of bird-shaped windmills mounted proudly on my garden fence here in Killaloe on the edge of the Shannon.

Some of ye may recall that I baptized one of them with the surname Trump and the other Clinton.  And away they flew in all the winds that came wafting over Lough Derg down the road. And our Caty crafted one of her special images for them. Remember?

Wryly then, for what it is worth, here is an update on the current status of the pair of them. If there is any connection between what I am seeing and the real political situation around Washington and the White House that is a judgment I leave to all of you on a Clare day when it is again reported that the real Trump is likely to pay a flying visit to West Clare next month.

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All I am going to say is that what follows now is totally factual reportage of the action atop my garden fence currently also beautifully ablaze with honeysuckle and the red roses of the month of May.

The Clinton windmill, I have to report, has had a savagely damaging winter altogether.  She has been blanched a whiter shade of pale by the February storms especially.

She has totally lost her left wing. She has been captured and trapped by the thorns of the rose bushes and the honeysuckle. Sometimes it is difficult to see her at all.

She still, technically, has the use of the right wing but it rarely stirs because of those thorny briars. She is quite a sad sight and, worse still, she is in a position where she is faced with the active backside of the physically larger Trump windmill every day of the week.

The Trump windmill is in a different mode. The body has been burned to a deeper shade of red by the suns of May and is constantly reacting actively to all the winds that blow from every direction.

I report, however, that this Trump icon almost entirely uses the right wing on a 24/7 basis and the left wing is really idle except maybe during our Irish dawn chorus from those tweeting and twittering swallows overhead. I don’t know if that is significant at all in any way.

This is a factual report in every way. Make of it what you will.  I offer no comment at all.

Our beloved cat Belle, whose genetics are largely Maine Coon, and who prowls along the top of the fence all the time in pursuit of any kind of prey, actively dislikes the Trump windmill because she was struck on the nose several times by the flying right wing or the rotating red trunk.  She has attacked the windmill several times, to my certain knowledge, and to date has been a loser in the battles.

Belle, on the other hand, is clearly fond of the little blanched Clinton icon. She licks the beaten little head occasionally and tries to clear away some of those sharp briars.

Again for what it is worth, that is quite a poignant sight to see. No comment again from me apart from that one.

That’s all I have to report to ye for now. The winds of change have shifted to the east in the last half-hour, and the Trump windmill is facing into them full front with the right wing rotating at a very high speed. And there is a full moon high above us all here on the banks of the silver Shannon.

I think I need to go out a-wandering. Is that okay with all of you?\

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