I’ve just booked my hostel and bought tickets for the A.M. train to Belfast. A few folks have warned me about a few things. There’s peace up there at present, but that’s the politician’s peace, and doesn’t mean everyone is a good boy. It just means that the IRA and the other side aren’t killing one and other just now. Whatever! I just won’t wear my Stonehenge t-shirt that has the phrase “Gimme That Old Time Religion” printed under a graphic of the ruin; I don’t wanna be getting it from both sides.
Sean, the bus driver today on the trip to Wicklow County, was quite the wit, as well as knowledgeable, informative, and philosophical; a veritable Bard, if you will. He didn’t even get angry with me when I left the group and took a deer trail to the upper lake at Glendalough (Gleann dá locha literally means the ‘Glen of the two lakes’); actually I arrived before any of the group did. Incredible wildlife up there; dear and rabbit scat everywhere. And there are stands of old, old, old, Ash, Beach and Oak. Then there’s the lake water it self; dark like tea, or coffee, or a cold pint of Guinness Stout! Guinnes is brewed for these waters in Wicklow.
A few quotes from Sean:
"I’ve been married twice; my first wife died after eating poison mushrooms. My second wife died of a fractured skull; she wouldn’t eat the mushrooms!”
AND
“I try to eat balanced meals; a pint of Guinness in each hand!”
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