“Welcome aboard Air Lingus flight 153 direct to Dublin,” announced the Captain. “Dis is Captain Patrick O’Donnell, de Captain. We arrive in Dublin in about one hour and twenty minutes, all being well. Ensure your seat belt is fastened so you don’t hit yurr head when we land.”
‘Hit your head’!
“We wait because de catering truck hit de wing of de aircraft and a bit has fallen off. If you have worries do not have worries, we put the bit in the cargo hold.”
That’s comforting – at least we have the bit!
Eighty minutes later (a similar time was spent on the tarmac) we touched down in Dublin and pulled to an abrupt halt. Not at the terminal.
“Dis is de Captain. We have landed at Dublin International Airport …. I tink. Now, we have problem. We take de bus to terminal. Stairs are here but dere is no bus. We have to wait for de bus. At least we are at the right airport. Please remain in your seats until de bus arrives and de hostess opens de door.”
[Pause]
“Dis is de captain again, Captain Patrick O’Donnell. We have another problem. De bus has arrived but de stairs have gone. We must wait for de stairs.”
* * *
For business trips of this nature we are privileged to have the support of Australian government officials. Our Ambassador provided us generous hospitality, the use of his ambassadorial car, plus his driver. His name was ‘Paddy’.
Paddy took us on a leisurely trip around the city. He described the historical buildings, notably Dublin Castle which was constructed following the 1169 Norman invasion of Ireland.
He took us past Áras an Uachtaráin, the official residence of the President of Ireland. Whether true or not as it is subject to much conjecture, it has been suggested the Irish architect whom designed the White House in Washington DC was inspired by the design of Áras an Uachtaráin.
The massive house is located in Phoenix Park where famously two murders occurred in 1882. British Cabinet Minister Lord Cavendish and his Departmental Head, Thomas Burke, met their demise when they were walking to the President’s residence from Dublin Castle. They were set upon by representatives of a band of insurgents known as ‘the Invincibles’, a group determined to rid the castle of the British.
* * *
I suppose the Australian flags on the car should have given me comfort – the local constabulary may ignore traffic infringements – but the flags wouldn’t safeguard us against a demarcation dispute with another vehicle.
Paddy’s lack of concern for the rules of the road made me nervous. Normally not given to ‘back seat’ driving, I had to make an exception in the interests of survival. We cruised through a fourth intersection on a red light. “Paddy, that traffic light was red!” I exclaimed.
Paddy quickly replied, “Aah yes, but only a little bit red.”
What do you say to that? Nothing. Just go with the flow.
Paddy is keen for us to experience the Irish countryside. In a short time, aided by traffic lights that were ‘only a little bit red’, we were in the beautifully green landscape beyond the city.
As we drove past a large house with a green tin roof I recalled a story told to me several years ago by a friend, Shamus. He was born in County Clare, Ireland, but had lived much of his life in Tasmania. He had returned to Ireland to visit family and to rediscover his roots.
“I was looking for a family by the name of Bruen,” Shamus informed me, “and I was lost. I came across a man walking a small herd of cows along a narrow country road and asked him if he knew where the Bruen family lived.”
“Aye, that would be the Bruens then,” replied the farmer in a singing voice. “Oh, to be sure I know them.”
Only the cows munching on grass at the side of the road could be heard. There was a period of silence before the farmer again sang, “So it’s the Bruens you’d be lookin’ for then?”
“Yes the Bruens.”
“To be sure I know the Bruens so I tell ya where they live. Ya go down this road two miles and there’s a sign that says ‘Carlow.’ That’d be a sign that tells ya how to get to Carlow.”
“Do the Bruens live near Carlow?” Shamus impatiently asked.
“No, no. That’s just a sign.”
There was a long pause while the farmer patted a cow.
“Now then, I’ll be tellin’ ya. Trun down the road t’wards Carlow; ‘bout a mile down the road you will see a very big hoose with a green roof.”
Another pause. The farmer lovingly stroked the back of another cow foraging on the roadside.
“So it’s the Bruens ya lookin’ for I unnerstan? When ya get to the hoose with the green roof drive anudder mile and you will come to a railway crossing. That would be the track from Cork to Dublin. It would be a very good train ride to be sure.”
Shamus: “Ahh, the Bruens.”
Farmer: “Ay of course. Now when ya get to the train track that takes ya to Dublin …. or Cork …. ya turn right around and drive back a mile. After a mile you will come across a big hoose with a green roof and that’d be where the Bruens live.”
True story dear reader. I may not be precisely accurate on the train destinations but that is how my memory served me.
* * *
Paddy took us to a little pub on a hillside overlooking the historic mansion of the Guinness family. He had been determined to buy us a ‘point’ all afternoon. I suspect it’s Paddy’s happy hour.
Sipping on our ‘point’ off the wood I relay the story of Shamus and the farmer, not taking my gaze from Paddy. Eager to see his reaction to this humorous account.
“So that’d be where the Bruens live,” I finished the yarn with the farmer’s concluding line as Paddy downed his ‘point’ of Guinness.
I looked at Paddy in expectation of a chuckle. Paddy shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “What’s funny about that?”
Aah the Irish humour. I love it.
Gordon d’Venables has been, inter alia, a teacher, soldier, farmhand, lawyer and businessman. As a lawyer he travelled extensively for international clients. His letters from various times and places around the globe (PNG, England, Ireland, France, USA, Saudi Arabia, Serbia, Iran and others) refer to some of his experiences. Gordon’s recently published book, The Medusa Image, can be obtained from Pegasus at www.pegasuspublishers.com, ISBN: 9781784658939 www.amazon.com.au or https://www.amazon.com/Medusa-Image-Gordon-DVenables/dp/1784658936
GORDON D’VENABLES: Letters.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Letter from USA, pre-Soviet Union Breakup.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Letter from Belgrade.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Letter from Iran.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Letter from India.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Letter from Saudi Arabia.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Letter from Vietnam.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Letter from Germany.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Letter from London.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Second Letter From London.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Second Letter From Iran.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Letter from Moscow.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Second Letter from Moscow.
GORDON D’VENABLES: Letter from St Petersburg.
