Just realised that I spelled "whisky" the Scottish and not the Irish way in my last post. Shame on me. Nothing against Scotland, but I harbour a secret desire to be Irish.
Found a book about Ireland in a flea market today, published in 1957. I will probably read it eventually, but right now I just enjoy looking at the old pictures. Pictures of an Ireland that I never knew. Yet so familiar.
But I'm trying to survive Finland. This time of the year it is so dark and wet and miserable. An excuse to wear fake fur and bright colours, and to light candles and spend evenings on the sofa eating chocolates while I dream of hot whiskey by a smoky fire somewhere in the Irish mountains.
1 comment:
Ireland. I'm reminded of a catchy little ditty that some Dubliners used to sing -
"In Dublin fair city . . . " and it'd wind off with spirited cries of "Cockles and mussels" and heart-wrenchingly yearning entreaties for young Miss Molly Malone to materialise before us.
Winter in Finland sounds worth surviving for!
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