Happy Saint Patrick’s Day.

Google’s St. Patrick’s Day Doodle for 2020 features the famous Cliffs of Moher.

Been there.

I am celebrating St Patrick’s Day with Guinness and Jameson’s.

I used my Woolworths Rewards points to get a good price on a dozen cans of stout and a bottle of whiskey. I’m not planning on drinking it all at once. However I may just be getting myself gargled. And to be sure, why not?

When sorrows are many, and pleasures are few

Tis fine to be drinking the rare Mountain Dew.

I first learned the wonderful word gargled when I visited  Lios Dúin Bhearna, in September 2008. Lisdoonvarna has an annual matchmaking fair every September and I just happened to arrive on that day. There was, of course, no accommodation available and I had to drive on to Ballyvaughan, in Irish, Baile Uí Bheacháin. Seeing that and realising the two were pronounced the same, was when I decided I had to learn irish. A task I still struggle at with little success.

But I digress.

In Lisdoonvarna I noticed that almost everyone I saw was either intoxicated or were selling something to the intoxicated. There was definitely some sort of festival happening. I went into a shop, where I bought a fine pie and a bottle of some soft drink I’d never heard of before. Orangina, from France.

I asked the shopkeeper what was going on. He told me it was the day of the annual matchmaking fair, and as usual, everyone in the town was pretty much gargled by ten o’clock. I love that word. To me it such a descriptive irish term. Especially when said in a soft West coast accent.

As with all new words, once heard, I heard it soon again. Just the next day, at the Cliffs of Moher. A group of people had just walked out onto the cliff top past the “Do Not Proceed Past This Point” sign.

“They’re probably gargled”.

Around 50 people had fallen from the cliffs by that time. The score is 66 only 12 years later.

So here’s to getting gargled and not falling down.

A little more about St Patrick here.

Author: Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

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