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Monday, September 12, 2011

Turns out we are Irish

County Kerry Ireland
There is a view by some commenters that we are unlucky – or even cursed. Far from it – we live lives so privileged that it beggars belief. Most of our misfortune stems from the fact that I am only marginally smarter that a honey-glazed roast leg of lamb.

This is evident from the fact that I embarked on a voyage to the wilds of Ireland without knowing the address of the place to which I was going or how I was going to get in when I got there. Now sure the owners were supposed to send me that information – but would it not have been wise to check to see that I had it before embarking on the epic and perilous adventure?

Now back to Ireland.

The following morning we had not received any responses to our emails and the phone numbers were not answering so over a full Irish breakfast we decided that we were indeed completely fecked and would move to plan B.

We arranged with Betty to stay in her establishment that night and would then B and B our way around Kerry for the next four nights. We then set off on our journey around the Ring of Kerry.

We had done most of the Ring of Beara the previous night – albeit in the dark – and at fairly high speed because we were running late. I am writing a guide book 'The Ring of Beara by Night' but I do not expect it to be a bestseller.

We became un-fecked after five minutes when Maeve rang to say that they were just leaving the Scottish Highlands and had telephone coverage again. They had received our many messages and they could give us the code for the locked box which held the door key. We had to traipse back to Betty and give her our good news and her bad news.

It was not easy to get into the house even with the key. Irish keys seem to be different. I think they make them child and adult proof. We eventually cracked it by sheer luck after we had all had a go and we worked out that you have to hold the handle at a 76° angle as you turn the key. 76° it is – any other angle will not work – the locksmith is a right little bastard for detail.

It was a sensational house set on a promontory overlooking the Atlantic ocean. Cyclone Katia was in the process of trying to blow it into the next County so we had a fine time at night sitting in the front room – which had glass windows all around it – watching nature do its best.

I had never imagined that a country could be so beautiful. It is just sensational and the landscape and the colours are unlike anything I have seen before.

Cate and I felt an immediate kinship with the land and decided that we must in fact be Irish - and this was confirmed by the fact that I immediately started talking with a thick Irish accent and drank nothing but Jamesons the whole time we were there.

Cate then revealed that her grandmother’s name was Annie Muldoon. That is enough for me. We are moving there as soon as we can. 


And here is a link for those who do not know what a goat thing is. Feck is just a polite Irish way of saying fuck. As this is a family blog I am attuned to the sensibilities of all of my readers and do not wish to offend them more often than I have to. 


Tomorrow: No Brian we did not 'fiddle with the water heater' and it is not our fault that it is spraying water all over the fucking house and if you did not want us to call about the fucking stove not working it would have been a good idea not to turn it off and hide the 'on' switch behind the fucking microwave oven for christ's sake. 

11 comments:

  1. ahahahahahahah!!!! what a funny post and I have not even had a drink!

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  2. Thank you for clearing up the goat thing, it is a good saying.

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  3. I translated your final paragraph into Irish, just in case the owner doesn't read English

    Will: Uimh Brian againn nach raibh 'fidil leis an téitheoir uisce' agus nach bhfuil sé ar ár locht go bhfuil sé spraeáil uisce ar fud an tí fucking agus más rud é nach raibh tú ag iarraidh orainn a ghlaoch mar gheall ar an sorn fucking nach bhfuil ag obair bheadh ​​sé ina smaoineamh maith gan dul sé amach agus an 'ar' athrú ar chúl an oigheann micreathonn fucking ar son Chríost i bhfolach.

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  4. Simon: You should be reading it at night with a Jamesons.

    fmcgmcclic: I think it is is originally US Army.

    esbboston: Hey - that is straight out of the air con manual you left in our apartment. It's about switching the condenser coils.

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  5. On page 42, near the bottom right side?!?!?

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  6. [Thanks, I needed a good laugh, rough day, very rough day. Among other things the Ford place gave me two estimates to fix things on my truck, the first for 700 dollars, the second item, which can probably wait until forever, was 2800]

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  7. Oh, your comment about the air con manual reminded me to tell you something. One of the things I've recently learned is that if you happen to have a heat pump system it has a 4 way reversing valve that changes the equipment from being a heater to an air conditioner, vice versa, as needed. IF that valve gets stuck or the logic system that controls it, then you can have heating when you really need cooling, so that might possibly be something to have your repairman check.

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  8. esbboston: no that's the Turkish - over the page!

    I think you need to do a truck mending course next - that is clearly where the money is.

    'Repairman?' Is that the same thing as a man with a screwdriver who fecks things ups?

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  9. I've only been to Dublin and it was spectacular. I really need to go back and take a proper tour of the entire country.

    Let me know when you buy a house there.

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  10. Smedette: You will be the first to know - maybe the second

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