Ok, actually it hasn’t rained today, and the sun is out. And it’s gorgeous. Blue and green and lots of wild flowers in the ditches and the fields. Even when it’s rainy it’s colourful. But even when it’s sunny, it’s usually rainy.
In short, thanks, but other than the inference of Kilfenora in the cross, a town I have passed through fondly on occasion, your picture is Another Ireland.
A better selling point might be “Come to Ireland; no 105 degree 100% humidity skin-crawling madness”. On posters. In Texas. Or, “Imagine rain right now. Yes. Come to Ireland.”
Teehee. My photo of the Brendan monument is just swamped in clouds, and Prince John’s castle a bit less so. We did get a sunny and very blustery evening in Tramore, a sunny noontime at Blarney, and a sunny pleasant evening in Dublin. And we got lots of rain.
I think you mean, King John’s castle, right? Well, that would be Limerick, birthplace of Frank McCourt and also me. About 10 miles away from here. My mother grew up in a house next door to it, on the banks of the Shannon. And I have never once been inside that castle. You know, there used to be a housing estate INSIDE it? Yes. Irish planning decisions have been about as demented as planning decisions come, for quite a while. Or rather, I thought so of course, until I went to New York.
Galena’s fake-Irish Booteek Hotel has a library with nooks and crannies devoted to various Irish and Anglo-Irish writers.
The nook devoted to Jonathan Swift is the passage to the scullery. The commemorative plaque misspells his name: Johnathan Swift.
Oh. Lucy? I need to email you and get your mailing address. I bought you a couple of little fake-Irish souvenirs in the fake-Irish gift shop of the fake-Irish Booteek Hotel.
This is difficult to describe. Frank McCourt had what I feel is a rural Limerick accent, actually. It probably got mixed with whoever he met in New York, though it is definitely Limerick. The urban Limerick accent is really its own entity. Yes, the Limerick city accent is a thing to behold. Basically, every part of Ireland has its own accent, and regional variations in lexicon. Cork is very different from Limerick is very different from Galway is very very different from Donegal is very very different from Dublin is very different from Waterford. Etc.
I might be going to Galway tomorrow if I can stand the bus trip. My accent is kind of a thing of its own also. It was never very Limerick, actually, and Dublin affected it subsequently, and New York has affected it somewhat too. But when I was living in København, I acquired this lush, rich, Clare brogue. It just appeared one day, and stuck around for most of my time in Denmark. That was my favourite accent. That was cool.
Sunny. Cute, Renner. Cute.
Ok, actually it hasn’t rained today, and the sun is out. And it’s gorgeous. Blue and green and lots of wild flowers in the ditches and the fields. Even when it’s rainy it’s colourful. But even when it’s sunny, it’s usually rainy.
In short, thanks, but other than the inference of Kilfenora in the cross, a town I have passed through fondly on occasion, your picture is Another Ireland.
A better selling point might be “Come to Ireland; no 105 degree 100% humidity skin-crawling madness”. On posters. In Texas. Or, “Imagine rain right now. Yes. Come to Ireland.”
Teehee. My photo of the Brendan monument is just swamped in clouds, and Prince John’s castle a bit less so. We did get a sunny and very blustery evening in Tramore, a sunny noontime at Blarney, and a sunny pleasant evening in Dublin. And we got lots of rain.
Come to northwestern Illinois. Pretend you’re in Ireland.
It’s watery. It’s green.
And we even have a fake-Irish Booteek Hotel.
I think you mean, King John’s castle, right? Well, that would be Limerick, birthplace of Frank McCourt and also me. About 10 miles away from here. My mother grew up in a house next door to it, on the banks of the Shannon. And I have never once been inside that castle. You know, there used to be a housing estate INSIDE it? Yes. Irish planning decisions have been about as demented as planning decisions come, for quite a while. Or rather, I thought so of course, until I went to New York.
Galena’s fake-Irish Booteek Hotel has a library with nooks and crannies devoted to various Irish and Anglo-Irish writers.
The nook devoted to Jonathan Swift is the passage to the scullery. The commemorative plaque misspells his name: Johnathan Swift.
Oh. Lucy? I need to email you and get your mailing address. I bought you a couple of little fake-Irish souvenirs in the fake-Irish gift shop of the fake-Irish Booteek Hotel.
Oh. (intense politeness) Thank you. I might have to forget to do that. Thank you again, and I wish you good day. All the best. Fond regards.
But Lucy! (Ardently, with an air of sincerity.) I bought them for YOU. For US.
(politely) wind whistling. tumbleweed. very embarrassed trees.
Lucy, you can wear them. And they will, like, symbolize our Irish-American bond.
silence. (acquires demerol fascination) (politely).
How different is a Limerick accent from a Galway one? My great-grandfather was from Galway and I always wondered about his accent.
This is difficult to describe. Frank McCourt had what I feel is a rural Limerick accent, actually. It probably got mixed with whoever he met in New York, though it is definitely Limerick. The urban Limerick accent is really its own entity. Yes, the Limerick city accent is a thing to behold. Basically, every part of Ireland has its own accent, and regional variations in lexicon. Cork is very different from Limerick is very different from Galway is very very different from Donegal is very very different from Dublin is very different from Waterford. Etc.
I might be going to Galway tomorrow if I can stand the bus trip. My accent is kind of a thing of its own also. It was never very Limerick, actually, and Dublin affected it subsequently, and New York has affected it somewhat too. But when I was living in København, I acquired this lush, rich, Clare brogue. It just appeared one day, and stuck around for most of my time in Denmark. That was my favourite accent. That was cool.