Falling in Love with Ireland

Blog pic

Drip drop, tick tock, the continuous dripping of rain, as you look out the window wondering if the dripping rain will beat the ticking of the clock on the wall. You want to go out but you wonder when the rain will stop. Children giggle as they chase each other down the street as their mother determinedly pushes a stroller behind them on their way to school. They seem unaffected by the rain.

Men in rain jackets, women in long coats, as people keep streaming out, I quickly came to the realisation that the rain would not stop, and neither would life. High ho, admitting defeat, let’s get this show on the road and put on the coat.

Spring comes, the flowers are blooming, people are singing, parks are bright, and dogs are running. In the city, in almost every direction there is a park to greet you, in the country a field to enjoy the view. A pathway to follow to lead you to enchanted fields covered with white fluff that seems to keep bobbing up and down – sheep.

Towns and cities rise and fall with the sounds of people going about their daily business. Bikes skirt around buses and taxis trying not to crash as a long line of weekday athletes whizz past in runners on their way to work. The sounds come together like a majestic symphony creeping into those tiny crevices in your heart and mind. Slowly building, slowly mining….

Accommodation is scarce, house hunting is a farce, the government in your pocket every step of the way. When one picket starts – another will follow. The hospitals are full, and the healthcare doesn’t work. When the sun comes humidity makes it too hot, when it rains humidity makes it too cold. It doesn’t even snow properly!!! And when it does everything stops.

The gripes are many but as you sit in your mother’s kitchen and your belly is full on the spud she just fed you for dinner, as the Barry’s tea fills the room in a sweet aroma. When you take a sip of that perfectly poured Guinness. You are taken to a far away place that makes it all just worth it. Like a thief in the night, slowly, steadily, she creeps in your heart that when you’re away the nostalgia is bewitching. As I walked down the canal and looked on the city, that’s when it hit me. I had fallen in love and the culprit was the Green Isle – Ireland.

Leave a Comment

* indicates required field