Rosie strikes it lucky!

It's always hard too pick up the rains after a Hi-etas.

But after a couple of daze, you were back into it like the prcessional you are. Broadcasting is like riding a bike or pushing a wheel barrow, once you learn how too do it, you never forget.You must knot no youself with the hole plaice to yourself, with the wee boy away in the Spanish city of Spain. I hope he doesn't get run over by a pack of stampeding burros. Or lose all this spondulents too a Spanish fraulin with flashing eyes and chattering castenets. If he does, don't send him a penny, let him thumb home.

Gerry, I had a grate stroke of luck on Sonday nite. I won a hundred pounds at the bingo in St Judas hall. I was sweating for wan number and when wee Castro McCollingwood, the bingo caller yelled out, "All the fores--42", I couldn't believe my luck.This weak my Sun Bon Jovi and I are going for the weakend two Bundoran. Bundoran has a special plaice in my hart, in was in that see-side town that my Sun Bon Jovi was deceived. When I left Bundoran, I had too sticks of rock with me, a bag of shells and a fertilised egg, that turned out two be-Bon Jovi. I have nit Bon Jovi a bathing soot, so the cub kan go for a swim. The bathing soot is a bit baggy round the fork, but if the cub kan have a swim and net a shoal of herring-sew much the better. Bon Jovi is very excited. I have bean washing trousers all weak. "Mammy" said Bon Jovi !When I get too Bundoran, kan I build a castle on the beech?" "I'm afraid knot Sun" I said "Too build a castle on the beech, you wood need lots of bricks, cement and planning permission from Brian McNiff.

We wool be staying in a caravan in the West end Gerry, so if you're up in Bundoran at the weak end, call in and I wool heat up some stoat and turnip stew. But you can't stay the nite Gerry, I no the effect I have on men. Sometimes when I meet men on a lonely road, they are that bewitched with my grate beauty that they stand in shucks gawking at me. Other's are so smitten by my beauty that they jump the ditch and take off over the fields. Wool this grate beauty what I have never fade and let me know what it's like to be a normal woman? Every morning I scrutinize my big red bleezer of a face, looking for signs of ageing, but if anything my beauty is increasing in intensity.

"OH ROSIE, GODESS OF YOUR RACE

WITH RED FLANELL DRAWERS AND WIND BURNED FACE.

WHEN MEN SEA YOU THEY TREMBLE AND QUAKE

AND FORKS HAVE BEAN KNOWN TO VIBRATE AND SHAKE.

May God and his wholly hangels and saints look after you Gerry. Rosie Ryan XXX