The Green Green Grass of Home

The Green Green Grass 

A grande merci to all those who emailed and messaged me wondering where I had disappeared to from blogland - I was on holidays in the land of saints and scholars, the ole sod, the island of welcomes, home to  leprechauns and fairies, aye, that's right , that's right, we were in Ireland to be sure to be sure...

Although Ireland can be a victimised cliché and everyone likes to pigeon-hole a nationality ; the English are leery, the French are arrogant, the Germans, serious and straight and the Irish, well, they're all just friendly alcoholics, aren't they?

Whatever about the alcoholic label, it really did strike me just how friendly and lovely and helpful and open and chatty and , well, how un French the Irish people are. The recession may be the best thing that has ever happened to the Irish, with everyone making the most of it and helping each other out at every turn.

Preparing for Irish picnic

We had a fabulous fun filled time, despite the weather ( it rained every day) and  for food lovers like ourselves, we were in heaven. We dined out on fresh fish caught by ourselves nearly every day, leaves and floury spuds from the local markets, artisnal cheeses, home made chutneys and jams and breads washed down with some divine Domaine Treloar wine that we brought from France ... and then there was the craic..

Another grande merci to the Mammy , the Mammy in law and all the friendly alcoholics that made it so special. What a country!
At the end of the day : Níl aon tinteán mar do thinteán féin!

Slainte!

Dear God

                                                                                                 Getrealfrance
                                                                                                 13 rue paul valery
                                                                                                 Cabestany 66330
                                                                                                 France
                                                                                                 August 29 2012
God
Everywhere


A few weeks ago I was expecting French friends for afternoon tea at my house here in Cabestany at 14h30. I was scooting around the house trying to make it look half way presentable when at 14h15 there was a ring on the doorbell
"The feckers" I said to myself drenched in sweat, hoover in hand and flung open the door exclaiming "BONJOUR! Bienvenue! Entrez, entrez! Ca me fait plaisir..."
Ooops, it wasn't over punctual friends, but two latter day Christians timidly standing just outside my porch - the two were delighted and had never ever had such an enthusiastic warm welcome on their cold calling route. After a minute of shock on either side the two gorgeous young girls announced that they were all the way from America and had come to France to spread the word.
As my two kids hung possessively out of me like swinging monkeys ( Who are they Mammy?)  the two lovely girls talked about having faith and queried my call on the subject. Normally I would pipe up "I don't speak French" in these situations and get rid of them fairly lively but as I had already rolled out the red carpet and they were English speakers, I had no choice but to engage...
I told them I didn't like organised religion and totally admired and envied people who had strong faith, a wonderful thing to have, no matter where you are in life. They enthused about believing in a God that loved them, was there for them and believed that all our families would be together afterwards..
"You need to ask Him for a sign" they said and then you will know that He is there. If you ask, He will show you.
Chatting to some Irish girlfriends that evening, we all agreed that we fell back on our "faith" but usually only when caught in the headlights of an oncoming articulated truck situation which we thought might be a tad hypocritical and You wouldn't be too impressed.
So, if You're not too busy up there, a sign anyone of these days would be great.

Thanks a mill
All the Best
Karen.