Dearest blogees, the most peculiar thing has happened. A few weeks back, Euro Stud (me, myself and I) upped and left the Emerald Isle for sunnier pastures...the south of Spain. This my friends is not the peculiarity I speak of.....oh no....it is my personal reaction to the change of territory which has surprised me. I have been here now for almost two months and after eight weeks of being confronted by sombreros, sangria and.........sun, I have come over all patriotic. I have taken up the tear inducing task of learning the cupla focal, I break into traditional song and dance at the drop of a hat and I think wistfully back to the stormy nights spent in front of the roaring open fire in my country cottage in the Wesht of Eire. What the hell has happened to me?!?!? I use the term green eyed monster because that is exactly what it is......an insatiable monster. Right, just to clarify things for those of you who have never experienced such out of body experiences as Irish patriotism...it usually kinda goes like this. First, you see something you associate with Ireland i.e patch of incredibly green grass...or a person so out of their minds on the ol' porter that they seem to have taking up the walking patterns of Quasimodo....then, naturally you think of home. All of a sudden you are engulfed in a green smog of sentimentality....you can here the atlantic ocean crashing on the sandy beaches of Kerry, the winds howling through the trees in Clare and the pitter patter of Michael Flately's tiny feet, the the chuga chugging of an ancient tractor roving over far off fields and the painful shrieking of a chair in which Mary Harney has just sat. Then before you know it, the mist fades away and your left shattered and windswept on the side of a sandy spanish street with a grey faced, red lipped priest standing over you screaming over and over again...The power of christ compels thee....as he circles you fearfully gripping a crusty old crucifix in his white knuckled hands. Once you regain lucidity, you have no choice but to shake the shamrock dew from your hair, try and rid yourself of your guinness breath, walk away from the scene of the crime without breaking into the soft jig or spewing the words...top o' the morning to you sir......
So, to all you ex-pats out there...if you havent already experienced the mental mayhem involved in remembering the motherland....beware.....fore warned is fore armed!! In the words of Yoda......"May the Focal be with you" .
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