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You Know You're In Ireland When...

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FredPuli43 | 05:36 Fri 11th Jan 2013 | ChatterBank
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The serious national newspaper (Irish Times) headline, front page, is "Combine Harvester Sales Double"

The second page headlines are "Naked Man Who Punched Garda Dies After Being Chased" and "Aer Lingus Enjoys Boost in Flier Numbers Thanks to Weather and Emigration" (Now, you have to be Irish to understand that!)

The local bookshop is called "Books Upstairs" It is on the ground floor. (Upstairs is an architect's office)

The bus timetable announces the 105 leaves at 11am. The 105 arrives at 10.45 and sweeps past the stop without pausing . When I relate this to the man next to me he says "Ah, that'd be the ten to 11"

The 4pm shuttle bus from Fairyhouse racecourse leaves at ten to 4,with only me on it, the driver saying "Ah,well now, I don't think I'll be getting any more", while racegoers are still pouring out. He explains "I'll be back at ten past anyway".

Time is not a clear concept in Ireland !

All that in a day. Anyone else had experience of Irish ways ? (I'm half-Irish, so I half understand it. I think. )

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LOL, makes perfect sense to me.

Just don't ask a local for directions :-)
I'm Irish and it all makes perfect sense! :-)
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Well, for anyone who doesn't understand, the Aer Lingus headline means that the descendants of those who had emigrated flew to Ireland at Christmas once they learned that the weather was mild there. Obvious, really. And as Irish as the Irish corona cigars that I bought in Dublin. We all know that the Irish cigar industry is as famous as Cuba's , but not as well-known.
True fred! :-)
good one fred
dave allen used to explain irish logic thus:-

train passenger: why do irishrail bother with a timetable? the trains are always late!

employee:- yes, but if there wasn't a timetable, we wouldn't know how late.
where's the problem? i was going that way.
Ahh - give over Fred - all this is making me homesick.
The Irish Times is my favourite newspaper and I usually scan the headlines; must have missed that combine harvester gem.
You know you're in Ireland when the immigration officer at Dublin Airport says "Welcome back" and actually, well, smiles.
And when at the (West of Ireland) supermarket checkout you are addressed by the name on your card... I'd best stop.
I saw Peter Ustinov on stage in Hong Kong. He related a story about a town I stayed in on honeymoon in Ireland, Kanturk.

He was driving to the hotel there, the one we stayed in, the Assolas Manor. It was pre GPS, those days when women nagged their men to stop and ask the directions for the final couple of miles in, it being easy to get to the town.

It was a Sunday afternoon in Kanturk, the time when the place feels like it's dead and when you could fire a machine-gun off and be lucky to hit a stray dog.

Ustinov drove down the main street, looking for someone to ask. Then he sees an old Irish codger on his stick hobbling along.

He pulls the car up, winds down the window.

"Good afternoon, Sir, would you know the way to the Assolas Manor?"

The old man cogitates and ruminates, scratching his head.

"Nae Sir, I don't"

"Thank you." and Ustinov drives off.

50 to 60 yards down the road, he looks back in the mirror and sees the old man out in the street waving him back. A second old codger is alongside him.

He throws the car into reverse, goes back and winds down the window a second time.

The first codger sticks his head through the window and said:

"I'd just like yer to know, me brother doesn't know either."
Ohhhh Fred...now I want to go home. :-(
Sneem is a village of multi coloured houses and shops around two triangular squares. A German visitor came into the shop asking for the Post Office Kitty told him it was in the red building across the green. A few minutes later he came back, unable to find the red building. Kitty took him to the door and pointed out the blue Post Office. When he expressed mild consternation she explained that..."it used to be red but they painted it blue last year but we always call it the Red House...if you see what I mean".
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Slaney, when I went through 'passport' control, the woman at the desk said "Welcome,Mr Puli", and then spent five minutes discussing the finer points of racing at Fairyhouse. But then everyone in Ireland seems to have a view on racing and racehorses, even when it's a mid-week meeting mostly for maiden hurdlers, And when I go to the Galway Festival, I have to remember to get everything done well before midday, as everything from dry cleaners to grocers will be suddenly shut about then; at least two thirds of the workforce will be joining me at the meeting and has to leave early !

And DT, that sounds like my mother's family. The point, lost on the English, is that yerman has to make clear that he is not an unhelpful, obstructive, ignoramus, but is truly doing his best to help on what is a difficult question.

And, on Irish helping with directions, a friend was once directed on a ten mile circuitous route only to discover, on his return, that there was a direct road straight back, taking five minutes. He'd been going fishing. When he taxed his original informant about the long route and extra half hour taken, he got the reply "And what would you have done with the thirty minutes?"
A friend of mine ordered some parts for his motorbike from an Irish chap.
He rang to say they'd been dispatched, 24hr delivery.
They arrived 2 days later. On asking why the delay he was told, "24hr delivery always takes 2 days".
He then asked why they didn't call it 48 hrs delivery, only to be told they already had 48hr delivery. That took 3 days.
The best Irish phrase I ever heard was ''he will regret that til his dying day..........if ever he lives that long''
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And, gness, I have had that too. Mine was a long direction, including the key fact that I was to turn right where the old cinema was before it was demolished. Unabashed, I saw no helpful sign of so much as a pile of bricks or an empty space. The cinema had been demolished years before. My only preparation for all this, apart from family, was living in Hammersmith for some years, a place so Irish that, having let slip, in a pub, that my mother was from Ennis, I was told "Ah, you're in the wrong pub!.The Clare pub is down the road" (And it was; every man jack there was from that County)
But don't you just love the quiet ingenuity of the Irish. There is always a solution.
Our village was always runner-up in the Tidy Town competition. The village is beautiful and well cared for by the residents but we never won because the first residence inside the village was a large house/garage/breaker's yard with the front garden full of old cars.
A few years ago we won! How? The night before judging the sign that announces the name of our village mysteriously moved a few yards closer to the village, leaving the messy house now officially outside and not included in the judging.
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Ingenuity and devastating simplicity of approach, gness My mother took a kitten from the farm, to raise as a house cat. I asked "And what are you going to call it?" "Cat", she replied. When I looked blank at this, she explained "Well,I have only got the one". A while on, Cat had kittens. My mother kept one. I asked "And what are you going to call it?" ( I never learned, did I ?)......"Kitten", she replied, "I've only got the one".

They lived into their twenties. My mother would call "Kitten!" and the oldest, feeblest, cat you ever saw would totter into the room, only wanting for a Zimmer frame, forever a kitten.
some years ago on a journey to doolin in clare, a friend decided to avoid the main "N" roads and see a bit of rural ireland. he navigated from village to village, but having followed signs to his next destination he was somewhat perplexed to reach a crossroads where the next village on the intinerary wasn't shown. as he sat wondering what to do next, a local sat by the roadside beckoned him over.

Local: ye'll be lost now won't you...
Friend: yes - but how did you know?
Local: the signpost at the last crossroads has been pointing the wrong way for some years now....
As the crow flies, it about a mile that way
You know you're in Ireland when the road slowly changes into a track with grass growing in the middle and when you stop at a house to ask for directions, a donkey pushes its head through the open car window.
I was in Irelnad visiting my (then) girlfriends parents when we were stopped by the Garda at a checkpoint. I was driving and Mr Garda said to me in his delightful accent 'Would you be after having a name at all?'
I was young and cocky so I said 'Yes.'
'Ah thats alright then' says he and let me drive on.....

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