June 2017 – Praying for Eyebrowz

A Swig and a Miss

I suppose it was inevitable that there’d be a beer I didn’t fancy as much as some of the others. If I were better versed in the language of the brewing arts I might be able to explain why it fell short, but all that I can say is “meh.”

The Hop House Lager 13 I drank at Morrisey’s Pub in Doonbeg on Wednesday night didn’t thrill me. It wasn’t awful, but I had no desire to order a second pint. So I ordered a dessert with eclairs, ice cream, and chocolate sauce. It was amazing. Life in Ireland is pretty sweet.

Shall I offer a toast?

He’s a fool who give over the liquor,
It softens the skinflint at once,
It urges the slow coach on quicker,
Gives spirit and brains to the dunce.

The man who is dumb as a rule
Discovers a great deal to say,
While he who is bashful since Yule
Will talk in an amorous way.

It’s drink that uplifts the poltroon
To give battle in France and in Spain,
Now here is an end of my turn-
And fill me that bumper again!

Kinsale, County Cork

While our husbands played golf at Old Head on Sunday, the wives toured Charles Fort and the town of Kinsale.

Kinsale is a seaside tourist town with lots of little shops. Many were closed on Sunday afternoon, and our husbands sighed collectively with relief.

The city had hosted a regatta on Saturday, and plenty of sails still decorated the harbor.

We only had a wee bit of time there, and again, the husbands were happy.

Peace, people!

A Pint at Doonbeg

I didn’t plan to blog a beer a day, but it’s been one of the most enjoyable parts of my trip to Ireland. Trust me, I’m no beer expert, and I can’t pick a favorite, but that’s not going to prevent me from continuing the search.

It might be just my imagination, but I believe the bartenders’ faces light up when I ask about their local brews. I’ve yet to be disappointed in their offerings.

Last night was our first in a new hotel. We’re at Doonbeg in County Clare, so I ordered one of their two locally produced beers at dinner last evening: White Gypsy Blond, a German Hefeweizen beer by White Gypsy (Shelta Beer Co), a brewery in Tipperary.

It was an easy beer to enjoy, and I might have had a second glass just to be sure I liked it as much as I thought I did.

Here’s a toast to all our friends:

There are good ships,

and there are wood ships,

The ships that sail the sea.

But the best ships, are friendships,

And may they always be.

Of Sheep, Sheepdogs, and Shepherds

Five of the non-golfers toured the Ring of Kerry on Monday to take in the breathtaking scenery the county has to offer. One of the highlights was a stop at a sheep herding exhibition.

Who knew there were so many different kinds of sheep?

The border collies never took their eyes off of the sheep even during the pre-herding talk.

The dogs were nothing short of amazing, and one of my fellow travelers said the demonstration made her realize that her own dog wasn’t very bright in comparison. Here’s a little sample from our visit. I tried to download a longer video, but wasn’t able to at the hotel. Watch the action up at the top of the screen.

I wish I could smuggle one of these dogs home in my carry on. They’d be handy for herding Studly.

Peace, people.

Twice the Fun

Don’t worry, I’m not drinking double. I ordered a Black and Tan (half Smithwick’s, half Guinness) at Ballybunion today, but had to choose between having it in a Smithwick’s glass or a Guinness glass. I chose the former, but a friend ordered the latter, so I borrowed his glass for demonstration purposes only. Okay, maybe I took a sip.

I forgot to add a toast to yesterday’s blog, so I’ll try to find a good one.

May your glass be ever full.

May the roof over your head be always strong.

And may you be in heaven half an hour before the

devil knows you’re dead.

A Lovely Little Lager

Studly Doright was tired of getting rained on, so instead of venturing out with the group last evening we opted to have dinner in our hotel’s pub, The Punchbowl Bar.

I perused the beer list and asked about a draft called Crean’s. As luck would have it the barkeep said it was brewed locally in Dingle, and she had one remaining glass with the beer’s name on it. Apparently people steal the Crean’s glasses! I promised I wouldn’t abscond with the bar ware and soon I was sipping this lovely little lager.

It’s a good thing I’m walking a bazillion miles a day or I’d be unable to wear any of the clothes I packed.

Peace, people!

Scenes from Old Head Golf Club

Studly Doright and his golf buddies played the beautiful course at Old Head on Sunday, not far from where the Lusitania was sunk off the coast of Ireland in 1915, having been torpedoed by German forces.

The course, according to Studly, featured an abundance of hazards and a flair for the dramatic. All along the fairways signs advised players to abandon any balls that fell too close to the cliffs lest players find themselves tumbling down the rocks into the Atlantic. I’m pleased to report that all eight men returned safely to the clubhouse.

That’s Studly bringing up the rear. He shot an 81 on this challenging course.

We call ourselves Eight Mire Mná which roughly translates to Eight Great Women.

Sipping Smithwick’s at Old Head

Another fine Irish brew, Smithwick’s, or “Smitticks,” as the locals say, was my pick on the fourth day of our trip. This pint was touted as being the finest in the land by the waiter who took my order. I impressed him with my spot on pronunciation, and told him that beer had become my second language.

Here’s to your health!

A fitting toast for today:

I drink to your health when I’m with you,

I drink to your health when I’m alone,

I drink to your health so often,

I’m starting to worry about my own!

Cheers, y’all!

On the Road to Dingle

Yesterday we dropped the golfers off at Tralee Golf Club and then five of us non-golfers went on a scenic drive to Dromore Point, the westernmost point in Europe, with a stop in the fishing village of Dingle.

It was like driving through heaven.