Miss Templeton, coming from beleaguered and ever expanding and therefore hopelessly congested LA, I welcomed the damp, although it cut down my snapshots, my pub nights (I am a lightweight as my spouse documents on her Manifeasto blog recently), and my opportunities for long walks on the beach etc.
And the natives had a fantastic April, no proverbial showers to bring May's flowers, so why moan? Any escape from smog and heat I find welcome. Anyhow, besides, on the endless line on the way to the Dublin customs in the emigrant hold of Aer Lingus with cheery poems about exile and large photos of Famine and emigration giving you the hint to leave having spent your euros, what did I hear but one confident informant's assurance that SF was the exact same temperature as Dublin the whole time the duffer was there!
(P.S. I responded to your recent post on my blog itself! And yes, a book called MTV Ireland is ripe for the review stack surely. (No Irish language I swear in this post.) That's grand. Brilliant. Cheers.)
Let me tell you: on my last visit over to Dublin (in June) I believe I 'took the weather with me' as Crowded House affirms. My last night in the Smithfield's pub tours netted me a friend's umbrella "just in case" and then the morning I checked out of my B-n-B, the sky was crying copious tears of sorrow. "What, in God's name, is THAT?" I thought to myself and "I remember how it rained in June in San Francisco. ONCE." I said to the taxi-driver.
Little did I know that I was there for the primal day of a downpour that has now reach post-Biblical proportions.
Upon arriving home, I left the suitcase to ruminate for a few weeks. Finally I unpacked. There, beneath Spanish tourist brochures and company promotional give-aways, was my friend's umbrella.
"Hey, little guy" I said. "You've just retired. You're never gonna see a rainy day again."
(Yes, it does rain here in the winter. But on such days, the wind is capable of turning an umbrella into a satellite dish -- so you forget the umbrella and dash from car to ferry to office as quick as you can.)
2 comments:
Miss Templeton, coming from beleaguered and ever expanding and therefore hopelessly congested LA, I welcomed the damp, although it cut down my snapshots, my pub nights (I am a lightweight as my spouse documents on her Manifeasto blog recently), and my opportunities for long walks on the beach etc.
And the natives had a fantastic April, no proverbial showers to bring May's flowers, so why moan?
Any escape from smog and heat I find welcome. Anyhow, besides, on the endless line on the way to the Dublin customs in the emigrant hold of Aer Lingus with cheery poems about exile and large photos of Famine and emigration giving you the hint to leave having spent your euros, what did I hear but one confident informant's assurance that SF was the exact same temperature as Dublin the whole time the duffer was there!
(P.S. I responded to your recent post on my blog itself! And yes, a book called MTV Ireland is ripe for the review stack surely. (No Irish language I swear in this post.) That's grand. Brilliant. Cheers.)
Let me tell you: on my last visit over to Dublin (in June) I believe I 'took the weather with me' as Crowded House affirms. My last night in the Smithfield's pub tours netted me a friend's umbrella "just in case" and then the morning I checked out of my B-n-B, the sky was crying copious tears of sorrow. "What, in God's name, is THAT?" I thought to myself and "I remember how it rained in June in San Francisco. ONCE." I said to the taxi-driver.
Little did I know that I was there for the primal day of a downpour that has now reach post-Biblical proportions.
Upon arriving home, I left the suitcase to ruminate for a few weeks. Finally I unpacked. There, beneath Spanish tourist brochures and company promotional give-aways, was my friend's umbrella.
"Hey, little guy" I said. "You've just retired. You're never gonna see a rainy day again."
(Yes, it does rain here in the winter. But on such days, the wind is capable of turning an umbrella into a satellite dish -- so you forget the umbrella and dash from car to ferry to office as quick as you can.)
Post a Comment