The snow came like mad on Monday. Everyone was snowed in, slipping and sliding all over the place, broken ankles, the works.
I went to Portarlington, outside DUblin to visit another old friend, Debbie, and spent the night in the country laughing, playing games, watching videos on MTV Christmas, and generally sitting by the fire with friends, as well as 3 dogs, 2 birds, 2 hens, 1 cock, 2 donkeys, and a lemon, which Debbie swears is an orange, and which Niamh says used to look like a lime.
In the morning they gave me three freshly laid eggs to take home to Denis. The eggs in Ireland, I have noticed, have VERY yellow yolks. Yellower than in Toronto. On a side note, when I lived in Cuba I noticed the egg yolks were very pale, hardly yellow at all. True story.
Shop lady in Bansha, Tiperary; very chatty, told us the news of course, as well as a story about the tiny wren that stops by her birdfeeder, that's so small it looks like a mouse.
"Curmudgeon's Corner" in Mulligan's Pub. What would a man do without his local? (and yes, by the time the bar was packed, it was mostly packed with men)
Then on to The Cobblestone, where you'll catch a session with traditional music any night of the week.
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