The Little Red Man, the Odyssey and the Sea

I just wanted to point out a few things that distinguish the people of this fine island for those who haven't visited. Firstly they have no regard for crossing signs. If the man is standing on the post in his brilliant red (a fair warning not to cross) you'll more'n likely see at least a dozen Dubliners scurrying, or sometimes, even strolling, across as if they are crossing a border illegally or for the more casual as if when they got struck by a vehicle it would simply split for them and go around. Also they litter worse than even the most trash tossing prone people I know you can't go down the street (in the country or city) without seeing a half dozen cigarette packs and a can of Bulmer's (always) and sometimes a Guiness or Budweiser. It's kinda icky. So the Odyssey began when we got into Kilkenny and found a hostel where we left our stuff and went out for coffe. We came back and saw a homelessish man arguing with the receptionist. Naturally we turned heel and walked straight to the offy (liquour store, off-license, I don't get it either)and picked up some of the magic apple juice inspired by the ancient craft of the magic men who once lived here (it says that on every can) Druid's cider adn a pack of Milky Ways. These two things we used to stay up extra late with knives in hand waiting for the bum to fall asleep next door while we played cards. The next morning we woke up and made porridge (far too much of it) and I ate more oats than I ever wish to see again. Now over full and grouchy we head over to the cafe that ripped us off the other day to wait for the bus. After forty-five minutes (the bus due for 20 of them) my grumpy partner exclaims in near panic that we must have gone to the wrong stop. So we step outside. Outside it is beginning to storm and there is a funeral procession. I was gleeful to say the least. Apparently everyone on the opposite side will wait for the wake-goers to file past before contuining (wait for 20 minutes even). So walking through the rain towards the bus stop proper we see our bus and hop on just as he starts up and the Herse carrying Grandad (written in flowers on the side) rolls by. We ride back to the cafe feeling rather sily and then on to Waterford. As you cross the river Suir Waterford looms up on the other side of the river with a wall of buildings. It is quite intimidating in a storm. We got off and then on the bus to Tramore a lovely Vashon like town on the seashore and met the loveliest church group in our room and stayed in the loveliest hostel and I walked down to the pier and watched the storm, as is my favorite pasttime, before we went out for a pint with a nice Irish fellow. And now it is sunny out and the Sterling is $1.56/£1. Needless to say it has been a lovely rollercoaster of a week.