Here's t' me Irish roots...

T'was very likely a wee bit of a pub like this one where me dear relatives would stop in for a pint 'er two before headin' home.

This is in County Down where my maternal grandmother was raised. Makes me wonder if they had passed this place or walked this road. Most buildings are very old in Ireland, so it is quite possible. I remember her speaking of Ireland like a fond and distant memory and when she and her brothers would gather together, there would be much singing and laughing and getting out the whiskey and whispers of their homeland. They would speak of her lovingly as a goom would speak to his bride. Gently and sweetly. Perhaps they were thinking of a scene like this one.

There was talk many a time of their poverty as children, of the despair of the people in Ireland until decisions were made to leave and head for a more prosperous life in Canada. One of Grandma's brothers stayed in Belfast where he was a policeman with the Irish Constabulary. He would have been my great uncle Jack (John) Riddle.

I love my Irish roots. I love the Celtic heritage that belongs to me, that runs in my blood and makes me yearn to see the Mountains of Mourne and the green and softness of her valleys.

Of course, that's only a half of me. The other half being English, made for an "interesting" childhood with my high-spirited Mother flying off the handle one minute and laughing the next while dear Father would sit quietly by and nod in his ever-so-calm English ways. Oh yes. Those were memorable days growing up. Listening to Mother on one hand handing down the stories from her own mother, talking about the ruthless ways the British treated her people, the tyranny and bloodshed and starvation that seemed to never end. And we won't even get into the Catholic vs. Protestant delimna. Being from County Down, we all knew where she stood on THAT issue. Dad would simply tease her all the more about how good the British were and say we lived in a different country now, laughing all the while and making Mother more furious.

Ah yes, they loved each other. My hot-tempered Irish mother and my quiet, fun-loving dad. They made a great pair! Patty and Philip. How Irish and English can you get???

So, I wish all of you fair weather, good fortune, potatoes in your bin and a pint a waitin' for ya' at days end!

Cheers!!!! And a Happy St. Paddy's day to all!