Our neighbour from Ulster, a hound for the hard work an eye for the quick money, the angle in a rumour and for sure a Masters degree in gallows humour last week found a young beast dead from a tumour so he carted it to the village, his prize winning stirk dropped off his harvest thanksgiving gift for the kirk. as if one day we simply became lower case, language discarded, ridiculed, titles removed deeds surrendered, paragraphs dismantled; without a willing translator from the outside our speech turned into a babbling of streams shrinking to less than one sentence or…