Unlike Amsterdam, Ireland was not as I had left it.
It is becoming ethnically diverse!
Sure, you’d see all sorts in Dublin and Galway but never in the Wilds of Tipperary, Sligo or Mayo.
It’s really cool!
Give it a couple of generations and there will be Irish people who can get a tan!
The Nutty Daddy is ‘solid gone’!
In to the realms of Father Jack in terms of his vocabulary.
“No!” “Feck Off” “Piss Off” and “Fuck Off”!
All appear frequently.
I’ve had my hair interfered with and told, “Ah, yer hair’s a nice size today”.
I think he was trying to say he liked my haircut.
He also patted me on the back, beamed a huge smile and said,
“You’re ok. You’re nothing!”
I dread to think what that was about!
But I was completely won over when he blew his nose on the tablecloth and tried to hide the food he didn’t want under the edge of the plate.
Poor old fucker.
I went for a couple of early morning walks in the woods near Cashel with one of the Uncles and Molly the Mad Springer Spaniel.
He told me stories about the Polish poachers netting trout and reacting violently to objections; the mental farmers who owned guns and were ever so slightly pro IRA and the piss poor shots that made up the local gun club.
On the second walk he stopped and said,
“Right. Take the dog and go down there 200 metres. Turn right and go another hundred. Turn left and walk to you reach the road, turn right and I’ll meet you at the gate.”
He turned and fucked off.
The dog and I looked at him in utter confusion.
He hadn’t just abandoned me in the middle of a deserted forest in Tipperary at 8am had he?
Yes he fucking had.
With a soppy Springer and a fucking English accent for protection.
Fucking cheers!
I was at that bastard gate before he was.
An elderly, well dressed man at Knock Airport was muttering that the security check was a pain in the hole and did he ‘look fecking Muslim’.
I started chuckling and turned to look at him.
He looked like my Grandfather; so much so my stomach did that lurch thing and my breath caught in my throat.
My heart was racing for a little while after.
Weird thing was we kept catching each other’s eye and I’m sure he ‘recognised’ me.
We even nodded to each other as he went for his flight.
It was the strangest feeling.
7 comments:
The bloke in the airport sounds like a right laugh!
He was so indignant!
Honestly, the Irish, they take this piss. They pretend to be simple, but they're just taking the piss out of us the whole time.
Hahahaha!
Jesus, the woods near Cashel is a very scary place to be left on your own! Tipp people are renowned for wandering the woods in large groups searching out English accents. You had a lucky escape!
I just love the Irish. Do I look Muslim? Oh lord...I'm crying with laughter. And Schnee is right, they DO take the piss - often, I think, quite unconsciously.
BTW, we've got a reprieve on the trees for a year. Seems Cllr Slagg can overrule Colas. Will pop in over the weekend if you are around. Sorry I've gone to ground a bit but work is a pain in the hole.
Neil.. I was left like a human homing pigeon!
It was the Poles I ws more worried about!
Sassy.. Nice work on the trees!
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