Christmas in Ireland

I have been bad…very, very bad. I’ve been neglecting you, dear reader, because of book selling and travel.

It’s not that I’ve forgotten you. It’s just that my life has become a whirlwind of late. And that’s a good thing, sometimes.


I find myself wondering what it would be like to spend Christmas in Ireland. Probably a lot more peaceful because I

don’t know anyone there. Maybe that’s the solution–just run away to Ireland. And take you with me.


Now, let’s see–what would we do? First thing, we’d go to a pub and meet some locals. They’d welcome us with open

arms because they love us “Yanks.” Especially if we’re willing to discuss our politics with them. The Irish are

greedy devourers of American politics, especially the scandals.


For instance, once there in the 80’s, I developed a bladder infection. My B & B lady told me I didn’t need to go to a doctor to

get the antibiotic. “Just head on down to the local pharmacy.”

So, I did and met Paddy Shields, the pharmacist. This is our conversation. Honest.DSC00462


“So, what is it you think of President Clinton, huh?”

“Well, he’s in some trouble now what with Monica Lewinski and all, but I like him.”

“You like him, do ya?”

I nod.

He grins. “Well, that explains the bladder infection, now doesn’t it? You’re immoral.”

I got my antibiotic.