St. Patrick's Day
From Cork, Ireland

Drive up to town, parking on the outskirts because we don't want to get towed away, do we? It's already getting busy, mid morning, face painters doing a great trade, lines of children ages 5 to 50 getting on the war paint, funny how it transforms people, almost always for the better. And already the fringe parade is getting in tune, street musicians rendering everything from Beethoven to Blur.

We are in the mood, and despite the stonkingly heavy breakfast, we are attracted to the aromas from the many food stalls in the side streets. Hot dogs samosas and bacon butties all revealing how cosmopolitan Cork has become since the Celtic tiger roared, we have people from all over, in particular from Poland. If you see on the street or behind a shop counter, a blonde, strikingly attractive girl speaking excellent english and stylishly dressed, helpful and intelligent, you can bet your boots she is Polish.

The Parade floats are beginning to arrive, a mixture of commercial, sports clubs, voluntary organisations, pipe and drum bands (love them) and schools (there is one girls school whose float gets more risque every year, they must be freezing up there!)

Now we have clowns, stilt walkers, mimes and just about every kind of street artist you can imagine; we say every year that the parade is not what it used to be but still we come because you just couldn't not be here.

And the Pubs are now open, (we don't do green beer here, that's for the States and OZ, we wouldn't adulterate good beer even with anything as harmless as food dye) so the craic is mighty and we're all in good form. The parade has started, so we spill out of the pub and stand 5 or 6 deep on the thankfully wide pavements through Patrick Street and in to the South Mall where the Lord Mayor, other civic dignitaries and honoured guests are waiting on their specially eracted stand to review the parade.

So it that it? No ! Not at all!

It's now that the real fun starts!

One finds oneself trying to cobble together in very poor Swahili an understandable translation of the word "craic " to a gentleman from Malawi who has his face absolutely covered in green white and gold paint, by an inexpert but enthusiastic face painter, and when all is said and done, he is nearly as Irish as I. As the Irish historian monk wrote about the Vikings many years ago "and they became more Irish than the Irish themselves " so there, that's the essence of it all, a chance for all of us to become Irish for the day, how bad !

THE END...

OK, now Curious Wendy had questions... and here are some answers from Geoff (who, incidentally, if you haven't figured this out by now, is quite the writer and quite a character too.)

First, What tomato fried bread is... remains a secret, but I did get answers on other items...

From Geoff: “Black Pudding... you have never had Black Pudding ? Oh you poor little deprived child, I could weep for you! Thomas Hardy in "Tess of the D'urbervilles” gives an excellent account of the making of this. Well, you kill your pig, hoist it up by it's rear legs, cut the throat catching the blood in a basin whisking it all the while so it doesn't clot, then you mix it with minced pork from the non-prime cuts, make a sausage of it with salt and pepper and whatever herbs you have to hand, hang it up, wait for it to mature, et voila!

The next time a U.N. humanitarian food mission manages to fight it's way into Detroit i will try to ensure that they get some Black Pudding to you. Forgive me Wendy, I had no idea how bad things were over there ( though it does kind of serve you right for rebelling against your rightful Lords and Masters in 1776 ! it was bound to end in tears.)”

Obviously, especially after that description, black pudding is not for me... but wait, there is more...

From Geoff: “White Pudding... as above but without the blood (but still nice), OK... not sure it meets my taste standards even without the blood... “ and “Rashers... strips of bacon that you grill or fry” (ohhh, that's what a rasher is!), then, “Bacon Butty or Buttie, as above in a sandwich” (ohhh, a bacon sandwich... simple enough!)

Finally, I had asked what "craic" was... never heard that term and assumed it was a brand or type of beer. Geoff replied: “Craic... well it's that thing which is the mixture of good music and good friends and plenty of alcohol which all combine to give you that feeling that just at the moment, perhaps the world isn't all that bad after all. “