But I'm in Ireland now, still trying to get over jet lag. I arrived Saturday and miraculously found my way to my cottage, in the pouring rain, and after picking up the bare essentials to eat (potatoes, sausage, tea and coffee) I have been hibernating ever since (and watching very old reruns thanks to my satellite dish. Kojak? Really?) But a new Vera will appear on Thursday!
My handyman has appeared daily since I arrived--I don't have to worry about this place. My neighbor behind, who was born on a farm near Limerick but lived much of her life in England, had me to dinner last night and keeps checking up on me. We're the same age and we're living alone (she has two dogs), so it's nice to have someone who keeps an eye on you.
If you want a literary bit, I have to say there is no way I could write about Irish people without actually spending time with them. Most recent case in point: my handyman arranged for an oil delivery for me (that's my heat), and directed me to the delivery man, who left a short while ago. He added half a tank of oil. But he also pointed out (very politely) that I hadn't paid for the last delivery--a year ago. Nobody billed me, and nobody hounded me for payment: they simply trusted me for it. How rare is that?
Both neighbor Katherine and handyman Dermot (Diarmuid in Irish) have told me that that everybody knows everyone (and most seem to be related somehow), and that if you tell one of them something, it won't be long until most of the county knows what you said, and most likely some won't be happy about it. As I've no doubt said before, memories are long in Ireland, especially the rural parts. I try to keep what I write as honest as possible.
And that's what I've learned in the past three days. I promise I'll get organized soon!
|And here's where I am!|