Your intrepid reporter writes from Cork, Ireland, where I have spent a very pleasant few days rediscovering my roots. I think I've rather fallen under the spell of Ireland. Cork is a lovely town, highly recommended for a long weekend; it's relatively unspoilt, big enough to keep you amused for more than a day but small enough to get around comfortably even without wheels. I have been on a few excursions, to Cobh, whence an estimated 2 million Irish emigrated, not all of them willingly, and to Blarney to visit the ancestral pile. I did not kiss the Blarney Stone, as I am not lacking in eloquence, and it involved a most inelegant manoeuvre culminating in an act of dubious hygiene. I left that to the dozens of Homer and Marge Simpsons with their digital cameras and instead went to investigate the Blarney Woollen Mills, where Homer and Marge were emptying the shelves of genuine Vietnamese Aran sweaters and plastic leprechaun keyrings.
I shall tell you more about my Irish adventure next week as I'm off to catch my plane; given that it's Friday 13th I hope some of the luck of the Irish has rubbed off on me. Just in case, I'm clutching a plastic Chinese leprechaun.
6 comments:
I have! a true pure Irish imp juice "mad in hong kong"
I placed it in a cauldron, everyone knows of what are capable the imps!!
Belle Irlandaise
Wow. I thought 2 million Irish immigrated to Kilburn??
Good show, Lady Daphne! Top of the morning and begorrah and all the other stuff too!
Irish imp juice, eh, Dip-Dop? I think that's called Guinness. Or Old Paddy. It makes them go mad in Limerick, let alone in Hong Kong.
Jane, there were only four of them to start with, but you know what they're like.
GB, I didn't hear anyone say "begorrah" once, although as I couldn't understand a lot of the broad brogue, they might have done.
"Begorrah" isn't that from 'Heart of Darkness'?
I say that if one can kiss a stupid stone while balancing upside down then yes, it is possible to talk out one's backside...
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