place as well as yesterday, roughly some score of years previously in the days of the land troubles, when it took the civilised world by storm, figuratively speaking, early in the eighties, eightyone to be correct, when he was just turned fifteen.

Ay, boss, the sailor broke in. Give us back them papers.

The request being complied with he clawed them up with a scrape.

Have you seen the rock of Gibraltar?

Mr Bloom inquired.

The sailor grimaced, chewing, in a way that might be read as yes, ay or no.

Ah, you’ve touched there too, Mr Bloom said, Europa point, thinking he had, in the hope that the rover might possibly by some reminiscences but he