ChatterBank4 mins ago
The Gness Holiday Diaries
23 Answers
You don’t know what it’s like packing all my camis, shoes, half of my shed and all the rest into a tiny case to fly on the Pope’s airline for a trip to the sunny Emerald Isle, a trip long in the making, back to my homeland.
Apart from some male-maiming and leprechaun laming, I am going across to a literary festival in the wonderfully coloured Sneem, the houses so designed and painted to extract money out of unsuspecting Irish-Americans including their Pressiedents and also the Irish-French, as to General de Gaulle who had the gall to have a vacation house nearby.
Now your Gness is to return in a blaze of gory, or is that glory, for two readings that I have been asked to make, “Fifty Shades of Paint on a Sloping Shed” and “Keeping Goats and Goat-Men.” The former is dear to Kerry hearts as we all have “lean-to”s here as what else would we use for our bathrooms, the latter – well there is a lot of similarity to keeping a donkey to a Tony-goat, so I thought some sharing of techniques as to keeping Baldric on his chain when I return next week.
Back to the packing, once I folded the chain-saw up and found the Postie to park his rear on the lid of the case, I was ready to go. Straps on, borrowed from a Northampton shoe factory, some last AB messages and an e-mail to the gang, I waited for my lift to the Luton Hilton so I was nearby to the airport, just in case things went wrong. I went early as I had no pizza in the kitchen and that Tony was dispatched to Minty to look after her goats, occasionally to zip down to the Lizard to help Lady J. Long may they keep him chained.
Well, some more AB messages, a broken bar stool, two concierges to hospital, three pints of Guinness and a Ginster's pie, I was ready for bed and the early start to the airport.
Check in was quiet, except for getting into some debate with six Nuns in the Ryan queue and instead of sending them off to Knock, they accidentally got checked into a package tour to Bangkok and the six electricians we all met with, well, as a result they were off for a retreat in Mother Bridie’s nunnery in Bangor Erris. Oh well, gness has struck alreadyand I am sure both groups will find it so educational.
Once on the left side of customs and with two bottles of Guinness and greasy bacon and eggs for breakfast, I staggered onto the plane, managing to knobble the chief purser in a similar method of case treatment to the poor train guard in Paddington – that’s two down three to go. It reminded me that I must come back with some recipes for deep fried Irish Nards for Voddie and Eccles.
I had a nice man sit next to me that looked like sunnydave – well he was ok but when the crew spilt three cups of coffee, tripping up over my chainsaw which I had to take out of my bag, well I got the impression that he was half roasted.
I tried to get up into the cockpit, (I have always loved that term) but was refused as seeing some nice Irish members would have been an early bonus; some ABer had warned Ryan Air of my intention to travel with them – there will be trouble Mick T, when I next see you.
So two hours later after circling between Cork and Shannon looking for Kerry Airport – we told the purser that it was north of Killarney and well away from the Irish National Prison, but the pilot though that was what a contour map was all about, mapping escape prisoners, we landed on the turnip field, Irish black-faced sheep (DTC!) grazing on the runway.
There was my daughter who had gone ahead of me to warm our cottage-to-be (and lean-to) up, digging some peat for the week and getting my Guinness in. A beautiful car, a Irish National rental Reliant in tasteful green, orange and white and missing one wheel on the front………
We set off over the hills to Skye, sorry Tralee, but then we turned towards Liss and Balleen, bliss and heaven on earth. Then the Garda suddenly appeared…..
To be continued.
Apart from some male-maiming and leprechaun laming, I am going across to a literary festival in the wonderfully coloured Sneem, the houses so designed and painted to extract money out of unsuspecting Irish-Americans including their Pressiedents and also the Irish-French, as to General de Gaulle who had the gall to have a vacation house nearby.
Now your Gness is to return in a blaze of gory, or is that glory, for two readings that I have been asked to make, “Fifty Shades of Paint on a Sloping Shed” and “Keeping Goats and Goat-Men.” The former is dear to Kerry hearts as we all have “lean-to”s here as what else would we use for our bathrooms, the latter – well there is a lot of similarity to keeping a donkey to a Tony-goat, so I thought some sharing of techniques as to keeping Baldric on his chain when I return next week.
Back to the packing, once I folded the chain-saw up and found the Postie to park his rear on the lid of the case, I was ready to go. Straps on, borrowed from a Northampton shoe factory, some last AB messages and an e-mail to the gang, I waited for my lift to the Luton Hilton so I was nearby to the airport, just in case things went wrong. I went early as I had no pizza in the kitchen and that Tony was dispatched to Minty to look after her goats, occasionally to zip down to the Lizard to help Lady J. Long may they keep him chained.
Well, some more AB messages, a broken bar stool, two concierges to hospital, three pints of Guinness and a Ginster's pie, I was ready for bed and the early start to the airport.
Check in was quiet, except for getting into some debate with six Nuns in the Ryan queue and instead of sending them off to Knock, they accidentally got checked into a package tour to Bangkok and the six electricians we all met with, well, as a result they were off for a retreat in Mother Bridie’s nunnery in Bangor Erris. Oh well, gness has struck alreadyand I am sure both groups will find it so educational.
Once on the left side of customs and with two bottles of Guinness and greasy bacon and eggs for breakfast, I staggered onto the plane, managing to knobble the chief purser in a similar method of case treatment to the poor train guard in Paddington – that’s two down three to go. It reminded me that I must come back with some recipes for deep fried Irish Nards for Voddie and Eccles.
I had a nice man sit next to me that looked like sunnydave – well he was ok but when the crew spilt three cups of coffee, tripping up over my chainsaw which I had to take out of my bag, well I got the impression that he was half roasted.
I tried to get up into the cockpit, (I have always loved that term) but was refused as seeing some nice Irish members would have been an early bonus; some ABer had warned Ryan Air of my intention to travel with them – there will be trouble Mick T, when I next see you.
So two hours later after circling between Cork and Shannon looking for Kerry Airport – we told the purser that it was north of Killarney and well away from the Irish National Prison, but the pilot though that was what a contour map was all about, mapping escape prisoners, we landed on the turnip field, Irish black-faced sheep (DTC!) grazing on the runway.
There was my daughter who had gone ahead of me to warm our cottage-to-be (and lean-to) up, digging some peat for the week and getting my Guinness in. A beautiful car, a Irish National rental Reliant in tasteful green, orange and white and missing one wheel on the front………
We set off over the hills to Skye, sorry Tralee, but then we turned towards Liss and Balleen, bliss and heaven on earth. Then the Garda suddenly appeared…..
To be continued.
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