I hate bank holidays.

I had to go down to the village earlier and the place was packed with fucking foreigners.

There were foreigners from Dublin, and there were foreigners from Wexford.  There seemed to be foreigners from every damned county in Ireland judging by the car registrations.

Needless to say the place was in chaos.  The roads were jammed with people looking for parking, trying to park or just parking badly.  The place was at a standstill.

Walking wasn't much better as the pavements were also jammed with foreigners all standing around looking lost or taking photographs.  For some reason a lot of them seem to think that a photograph of the village isn't complete without an authentic bearded local so I have to spend my time dodging them.  Those I can't dodge, I give the two fingers just as they are pressing the shutter.  I have become quite good at timing that.

I don't know why there were all there.  There is nothing particularly special about the village.  It wasn't used for filming Ballykissangel or anything crass like that.  Strangely enough people have difficulty finding the place when they are looking for it, yet when a bank holiday arrives they land here in their droves.

I came home and took a photograph of my own.  There is no one beardy in it, nor is there any vestige of the village.  It's a Camelia I discovered flowering in an obscure corner of the estate, behind the South Wood.  It was so obscure I had to force my way through a thicket of brambles just to see the plant.

I think it was worth it though.


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Foreigners — 9 Comments

    •  suppose the poor proles have to be given an illusion of freedom, even if it's only for a day? 

      I'm somewhat on the fence with this contrail lark.  I'm fortunate in that I live well away from the main air routes so contrails are somewhat a rarity.  I doubt the Irish gubmint would have the intelligence to try weather manipulation anyway.

      • I too am unsure about what the chemtrails are. I don't live under an air corridor either except I do on some days. Often times there are criss crossing lines in the otherwise blue sky which blend together to create a high level milk for want of a better analogy.
        Some planes leave a trail that expands and expands, others leave wispy trails which are shorter vanish within minutes whilst others leave no trails at all.

        On other days there are no planes anywhere in the sky. Just recently there have been days where the long trail planes are creating hockey sticks in the sky with curving flight paths where before they only ever flew in straight lines.

    • I can never get used to that Merkanism – backyard.  A yard here is somewhere you would dump old machinery or keep cattle in, as in farmyard.

      I took that photograph between showers [when we get a brief break in the rain here we  call it Summer].  If it makes you feel any better, it's pissing down now?

  1. warms my cold heart,here the trees are just starting to show buds! still in single digit temps. sighhh hope spring comes on a saturday this year so i can enjoy it

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