Low Lie the Fields

Ireland is green… and grey and brown, but mostly green. Unless you’ve spent a winter here you’ll not really understand the true nature of Irish rain. The drenching consequences reach beyond green and seep deep into the Irish psyche. First off, the green is followed by certain unusual grey which I’ve never encountered anywhere else. You might first notice it in the churches, which appear to be built of concrete. It’s what O’Ceausescu would’ve wanted, the great Irish dictator. Grey, monolithic concrete churches. It’s a rare thing to stumble across the ruins of a medieval church down an old lane; built from cut stone and resembling its English counterpart. Irish churches are unusually imposing and reach higher than the town is wide, probably as a statement of the power of the Catholic Church.

The grey reaches further, Vesuviusically smothering cars from ground to roof rack, and everywhere reaching up exactly one foot from the ground, to line the external walls of each and every building in the land. No one, but no one, in Ireland cleans their walls! Some older buildings have been known to have more ‘grey’ stuck to them than they have original walls left.

The waterlogged nature of the land sees all it’s inhabitants sticking rigidly to terra firm, unlike their English neighbours, who excitedly rush out to buy “Hunter” wellies of all hues, expressly for the purpose of stomping across mud soaked fields. The Irish though will not add muddy boots to the list of that already claimed by the sodden land.

I’ve heard of the Irish being rudely called bog hoppers. Let’s get this clear now. There are bogs aplenty but you won’t catch an Irishman within 100 yards of one, or anywhere that there is no form of paving. They refuse to hop anything wet and will happily detour a mile to avoid muddy feet. By and large they are urban and disinterested in the countryside.

(Orange) Mna Na h’Eireann

I can’t find a way to put it innocently to my wife; since arriving in Ireland I’ve been checking out the ladies. I’m confused by what I see. When I feed back my observations, I couch it in terms unfavourable for the local ladies in the hope that it’ll be acceptable to her.

Here’s the thing. I’ve noticed that predominantly, their favourite skin colour is an off-orange and this can best be achieved with an over application of make up. I call it make up. There is probably a more technical term. Foundation? This has to be applied in abundance? I suspect for many generations, sales reps pushing beauty products have made it clear that no woman should leave the house without putting their face on. However, in balance, so as not to overdo it, the ladies cease its application just below the line of their chin. Some are over enthusiastic and the cessation line can be seen just above the neck of their blouse. You’re right if you’re thinking the result must appear as a mask. An orange mask. The logical extension is that it could be scraped off with a garden trowel. It should be!

Take a bit of advice ladies. Less is more.