trails of thought

How the Irish have given and taken so very much from me 

Bit dull as far as weather is concerned but never gloomy re me.  First day in Northern Ireland for the last thirteen years will have me reading and writing for my dissertation.  Then this afternoon/evening off to Belfast to have a Guinness!  Fifteen minutes by train my lovely AirBnB host tells me.  Am so happy in Ireland.

And it’s really weird: the thirteen years ago I talk about was when I fell in love with a beautiful woman.  And the time in Ireland previous to that was fifty years ago almost to the day when as a kid, just before the Troubles flared up, we went camping on the shores of Lough Neagh and ate freshly fried eels, still wriggling as they hit the pan.  And as we came in to Lisburn by bus from the airport yesterday, I tracked the journey on Google Maps, and I saw the lough’s name, and I sensed the scenery, and I remembered fifty years ago, and I remember the beautiful four days those thirteen years ago, and I remember the beautiful four hours on Bloomsday 2016 with her beautiful beautiful daughter.  And even though I was on the bus’s CCTV, I couldn’t not become tearful.

The Irish have given and taken so very much from me.

I would never have it any other way – except I would.  Now I would like to make peace with those memories.  Now I would like to see both mother and daughter again.

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