It was an eventful Saturday – watched 2 games of rugby at the pub up the road with Julie (aussie) and Brian (irish), guzzled pint after pint of guinness, donned a silly hat fashioned from foam and shaped like a huge pint of guinness with a shamrock brim, and to complete the look added a green badge nicked from the pub that said ‘I’m worth the wait’ (referring to the length of time it takes to pour a decent guinness, something that some irish are very particular about). Soon after I was ready we headed to an irish pub in Hendon called The Claddagh Ring and got packed into the building like black pudding gets packed into some fat irish bloke’s gob.
I was mistaken for an irish woman on several occasions, and was dragged from group to group for imprompteau jigging and singing irish rock anthems. I didn’t hear Danny Boy once. Often, when they realised I didn’t know the words to the song that played the most, an irish version of Khe San, I was shunned and turned away in shame. For shame!
There were a few entertaining punch ups, like the pubs in the good old days, and there were the odd creepy old irish blokes holed up in the corners looking all the females up and down, like in The Fellowship of the Ring when the hobbits first land in Bree.
All in all it was a very energetic and enlightening evening. I’m kind of glad it’s only once a year though. Bring on Australia day! 😉