|
|
Travels with Delaney's Donkey (apologies to Val Doonican & Bill Bryson)
Dame Vitriola and I left behind the Home for the Permanently Bewildered on Prescott Street and crossed to the Emerald Isle. Unfortunately, we took a wrong turning halfway to Wexford and found ourselves at an unmarked crossroads in Ballymoron or Ballydimwit or some similar village. None of the possible routes had a number on the signpost, so we popped into the local stores to ask for directions and the right road to follow. The conversation went as follows: "Excuse me, can you tell me which is the R385?" says I (note the use of the Gaelic inversion) "Now then, I don't tink (note Gaelic pronunciation) that bus goes along here," says he (continuing the inverted theme) "No, it's a road I'm after." "Well, if it's a road you're after, there are four from here to choose from." "I want to get to Wexford." "Ah, well, there's two ways to get there. But, I wouldn't go the first way, if I were you". "Which way would you go if you were I or if I were you or you were me or if .... (now fully fluent in Gaelic) "To be sure, I'd go the other way." "Which one is that?" "Now I tink about it, that's the R385." As he was rather an old chap, we gave up at that juncture, though not without a barbed comment from me when I asked him had he considered euthanasia. He answered that he had enough trouble with the youth in Ireland.
Here's a geographical quiz question on Ireland for all our readers:
Q. Do you know McGillycuddy's Reeks?
A. Doesn't everyone's?
|
