When she got to Ennistymon, the mad man on the bridge signalled her to stop. ‘There’s ostriches on the road!’ he cried. ‘Slow down!’ She was glad there were crazy people in the world. She watched him, wondering if she wasn’t herself a bit mad. When she rounded the corner, ostriches were walking down the main street. People were standing on the footpaths watching them go past and a young girl with plaited hair was driving them along with a stick. So, being mad was the same as having your wits about you, Margaret thought. Sometimes everybody was right. For most of the time people crazy or sober
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