Been wondering what happened to ole Broose the Moose? Maybe that joke makes you wish he never came back!
Well, my wife and I just returned from a lovely (oops, out pops that word again!) two-week trip to Ireland and Wales. For our 25th wedding anniversary back on Nov. 12, we were looking for a way to go to Ireland. When we saw that a special gathering was taking place in Wales that could be easily assessed from Dublin by taking an Irish ferry across the Irish Sea, well, who could resist!
Well, this bloke who fancies he’s Irish never once sat on a porch, and we didn’t see anybody else either. Everybody is on the go in hustling, bustling Dublin, and you’d have to be mad to try to drive there amidst nonstop bicyclists, buses, lories and workers, tourists and jaywalkers regardless of which side you drive on! Identifying streets whose signs are high up on a corner wall if at all was hard enough on foot and would seem to be out of sight for car drivers. So we happily and no use denying it—cowardly—chose to stick to public transportation. Worked lovely (stop that!).
What adventures and tidbits can I share with you that would be of interest? Let’s find out when the effects of leaving Dublin at 1 p.m. and arriving in Denver supposedly only six hours later wear off on this old body!
Hope you won’t mind waiting. As my best friend, Pat Murphy from Carlow (about an hour south of Dublin) put it so well, “Some people say manana. We Irish don’t have any such word which conveys quite the urgency.”
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