You can’t depend on the weather in Ireland or anything else at all.
Hear politicians talking, they might as well be talking to the wall.
They make no sense at all.
Ireland is rather small.
Does it punch above its weight in anything or is it fate?
We’re not bad at talking, when will we start walking?
We wrote some books, we sang some songs, we tried to right some wrongs.
Occasionally, once or twice, we get it right.
We emigrate, take flight.
Beannacht De libh, good night.
Another wonderful day, as Beckett said.
Cheer up, you could be dead.
30th June, 2017