Thanks for the input chaps, it’s very helpful.
Leon, worry not, for if I find any rocks worth hugging, I promise not to squeeze them dry.
Whitney, we got as far north as Achille Island last time we were there, and were taken with the place, so a return is a distinct possibility, as a starting point for further north. Hopefully this time we may catch a dry spell.
David, what’s Liverpool/Milan – a new type of printing paper? You describe Ireland extremely well. I’m not into mud, wet sand is ok, but the wife baulks at mud.
Les, now what are you doing swanning around Texas, shouldn’t you be home chopping firewood ready for winter? I hope those colonial APUG’ers are looking after you, and appreciating your worth? As you say the Burren is indeed a challenge, and that’s just walking on it. I’ve only found one bad pub in Ireland so far, but I shall keep looking, there must be another, somewhere.
Is this the place for a story? Well here goes anyway, it’s true.
T’was a scorching hot day somewhere in the middle of Ireland – honest – and we were in need of a drink, and food, it being near lunchtime. Espying a pub we called in and stood by the bar awaiting service. A voice said “Can I help you?” This was a little unnerving as we were alone in the bar. The voice came again, “Can I help you?” At the third sounding I worked out that the voice was coming from somewhere behind the bar. So I leant over the counter, and peering into the gloom, I saw a small girl, maybe 6 years old, looking up at me. I enquired if they had any food available. Not that day she said, normally there would be, but Ma, and Pa were away at a funeral, and Ma did the food, so no food, sorry. Would we like a drink? Whilst she balanced on a beer crate as a prelude to jumping up to hang on the pump handle, I enquired if she wasn’t a bit nervous at being left alone in charge of a pub? I’m not alone she said, pointing over her shoulder, “I’ve me brother”. Behind her; in the shadows, stood a three year old boy!