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I awoke this morning at 0550, which is in the usual time frame of when I arise daily. On this day I knew I must be Irish. As I glanced out the window, clouds and rain were present once again. The 53 degree temperature outside had made the house cool, especially when one is in drawers and a Tee shirt.
I would go to the living room and get a fire going in the fireplace. Thanks to modern technology I had only to click a button on the starter gadget to get the propane to fire and bring instant warmth were you to stand in front of the flames. Twenty eight yers ago I would have been stoking a fire in the old Nashua cast iron stove in Connecticut.
In a month’s time we have had twenty-two days of measurable precipitation and our mean temperature’s have been 58f for a high and 48f for a low. One morning we awoke to a frost covered lawn and 35f. Oh yes, it’s Ireland, just 3,239 miles east of Galway is all. Please, let me experience some sun. Oh to sit outside in the garden and have a pint.
I consider myself a writer. I’ve been blogging since 2008. I started on Google, http://thefidd.blogspot.com/ was my moniker for the first seven years. Lots of stuff posted about family, friends, travel and such back then. It’s all retrievable should you care to take a look. Learn who El Jefe is and where he spends his time in this shrinking world of today.
I’ve branched out a bit since moving here to WordPress last year. I guess, thanks to the weather and the feeling of my living in Ireland that would make me feel like an Irish writer. Nothing to the tune from the likes of Beckett, Yeats, Joyce or Ian MacPherson from this hand, although I wish. I do add words to paper, ok, it’s the Mac, but that makes me a writer, right?
I’ve been to Europe on several occasions, Germany and Ireland to be specific. I’ve gotten to Ireland twice, most recently, not as an “Accidental Tourist.” “The Accidental Tourist” was an American film featured in Baltimore, MD, my home state and adapted from the novel of the same name written by Anne Tyler. The film came out in 1988, my first year to blog, thus the significance. Means nothing of course.
Our most recent trip to Ireland by my me and the wife was this past December. We traveled with a dear friend by the name of O’Leary who’s mother hosted us for a week. No touristy stuff, we were village people. The town was Kilkenny, we had mist and rain, cold and blustery and it felt like Maryland in May. The house we stayed in was warm, had a fireplace, a wonderful hostess and five pounds gained of great food. Marios is a great place for Fish and Chips if you’re ever in Kilkenny. Yep, I’m Irish and a writer and I eat like one and enjoy a pint now and then .
While in Kilkenny we shopped one day at a pottery, “Nicholas Mosse” is the name. Bennett’s Bridge is where Nicholas Mosse calls home. It sits along the river Nore, just down the road a piece from the town. It seems our host’s wife Lexi has a love for this pottery and has numerous pieces about their home. It being the Christmas season, why not get some shopping in says our host.
Since I’m not much into pottery, or shopping for that matter, I would find an alternative means of occupying my time. Located on the second floor of the pottery was a quaint little Cafe. Some coffee, a sweet roll and a table by the window would serve me well. I’d read the local paper and gather material for the next blog. While the shoppers shopped, the writer researched. In Ireland on a rainy blustery day I might add a few words to a future best seller. Oh the dreams that exist. The coffee was fantastic and so was the view by the way. I’m really in Ireland and I’m writing.
Yes, in one respect as far as I’m concerned, and the Weather God has made it such, I’m an Irish writer, even on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Ireland has her Cliffs of Moher. Maryland has her Calvert Cliffs.
Ian MacPherson has a new book out. The only one living of the lot I mentioned.
The dedication inside the cover reads like this.
my one wish –
that we die together
at the age of 96
with all our children
at the bedside
That’s the dedication. Isn’t it truly, truly beautiful?
And they say great poetry is dead!
THE BOOK OF BLAISE
‘He is a standup comedian with an acerbic wit, leaving you breathless with laughter at the sheer absurdity of life, and his life in particular. To say that his act is based on things going wrong is like saying that Genghis Khan was a warmonger. It gives you the idea, but does not indicate the sheer scale of the enterprise. And The Book of Blaise is the Everest of absurdity.’
FOR THE JOY OF READING
‘Kick Myles Na GCopaleen into the next century and you’d get something like Ian Macpherson – the same eye for absurdity, the same ear for wordplay’
David Robinson: Emeritus Literary Editor – The Scotsman
‘The Book of Blaise is the unapologetically personal account of one man’s struggle with the superiority of women, specifically his wife Blaise. It’s the funniest book I’ve read since… his last one.’
Thanks once again for stopping by. The temperature, just to let you know is 58 degrees F., or should it be F’n degrees?