wendy house

When I told mumzie that I was suprised to find a Castle named after the English King John in Limerick on an Island called Kings  Island in English town,   Mumzie wrote:

John (lackland) as he was called, was so annoyed that his brothers had their own land, dukedoms etc. that his father gave him Ireland.

 King John was born the 5th and youngest  son of King Henry II.    All reports of him appear to agree that he was treacherous,  cowardly  and an  ill mannered sloth.   He was excommunicated by the  Pope and divorcing his first wife well before King Henry VIII.   He was the younger brother of King Richard I,   Richard Couer de Lion.   He ran Britain while Richard was fighting the Holy wars and Robin Hood was doing his legendary deeds in the North of England.   Wikipedia has an entry specifically on John’s relationship with Ireland.   I suspect you can now  see why I was surprised to find a castle named after him,   in a predominantly Catholic nation.  

Mumzie also had some useful insights on the new ripping yarn in 10 episodes for the TV “The Tudors“:

Terrible history, and script….really corny. Got bad reviews here. Hairstyles a bit ahead of the times, more Elizabethan, and they certainly didn’t have underpants, just long shirts that tucked under.

I like to test the diverse effects of  gravity in different countries and continents.   normally with the help of a curb.

While walking home from the atmospheric,   smoke-free,  Tom Collins pub after one,   well two,   actually three, definitely not four pints of Smithwicks,   while crossing the road I tustled with the uneven curb and ended up sitting in the gutter

Passerby:   Are you alright?

Wendy:   I’ve twisted my ankle

Passerby:   No dancing for you tonight then!

I scooped myself up and hobbled home.     Once back in the US I hobbled myself to a medical center to be triaged by my fabulous nurse:

nurse:   what have you done this time?

Wendy: twisted my ankle,   I wasn’t skiing,   just crossing the road

The last 3 times we met she confirmed that I had broken a bone during a fall while downhill skiing.   She’s recommended that I stick with cross-country skiing.     No broken bones.   I have got the ankle wrapped-up in fancy medical bindings with streamline black velcro.  

3pm wandering into an Italian style winebar with a view  across the river Shannon.   The bar was empty bar one table where the guests,   6 women in their 20′s and one man in his 40′s were finnishing their meal.   maybe they close soon,   maybe the chef has finished for a break between lunch and evening settings.

Wendy:   Are you still serving?

Waitstaff:   We’re open,   yes

Across the river behind some homes I can see an older taller building with a large tower.  

Wendy: do you know what that building is or was?

Waitstaff:   No,   I’m not from Limerick.

I should have spotted the eastern European accent.

now this is evidence of serious  specialising.   A market dedicated to potatoes and a carpark for them too.   P for parking or P for potato?

Walking along the banks of the Shannon in the incessant drizzle reminds me of being unemployed.   An oppressive atmosphere.  

Four pre-pubescent boys in the distance are looking out over the river.   Or are they?   The riverside is desserted except for us.   They start walking towards me.   The  tallest, maybe all of 12yrs, asks me for a cigarette.   At least I think that is what he asked.   I shrugged my shoulders and mimed ‘sorry I can’t help you’   without airing my English accent.

As I reached the point on the riverbank where they had been standing I could see the pee trails and spatter.   The taller boy had won…

My first impression of Limerick is that it has welcomed many people from eastern European communities.

After a red-eye flight covering 24hrs Wendy-time I  look more than a touch bedraggled and every bit my 43yrs.

Wendy:   what choices do I have to get from here to Limerick?

Shannon Airport Information:   Bus or taxi,   do you have much luggage?

Wendy:   Just this

Airport Information:   take the bus.

This is the kind of advice that I like to hear.

At the bus stop two young girls wearing heavy dark eye-liner shelter from the drizzle by me.    They chainsmoke wearing airport badges with their long hair pulled away from their faces.    The original colour of their hair is showing for 2 inches at the roots.   White-skinned   blonded brunettes talking with  an urgency normally utilised by  drug addicts  or excited children they look slightly bedraggled too.    They are not talking English or Irish,   they sound eastern European.    

A couple looking over 50yrs wearing well-ironed bright clothes stand either side of numerous new-looking suitcases.   In an US accent the lady asks me   Is it daylight savings time in Ireland?  In my English accent I reply   I have no idea.   It is 7.50am

The girls stop talking,   their cigarettes held close,   but not  touching their lips.   They look at the US couple and me  for a few seconds then resume their chatter.  

When collecting my fare the bus driver scowels at me.    Here  my accent is definitely not cute it is that of a recent  occupier and oppressor.   During its route the bus (30mins,   €5.70) picks up about 10 people.   Judging by their accents and language about half of them are eastern European.   On the  journey, inbetween  talking calmly,  slowly, continually,  into an earmounted phone headset,  the driver shouts obscenities at other drivers “Ya Prick!” in an Irish accent  .  

Later downtown I find several shops that specialise in Lithuanian and Polish foods,   as I walk passed queues at the downtown bus-stops I hear eastern European accents mixed with the the Irish.   The two receptionists, half the bar staff and  all the restaurant wait staff  in the Hotel sound eastern European….