Hey folks! What are you doing this Sunday? I know what I’ll be doing. This Sunday, March 21, 2021, I will be available ALL DAY for an online chat on the friendliest group on Facebook, WeLoveMemoirs. Why don’t you take sometime out and join me in some scintillating conversation?
Time travel with me to 1970s London. If you read my memoir, A Squatter in London but want to know more about my adventures, here’s your chance. Are you wondering what everyday life was like as a squatter? Are you a child of the 70s and want to reminisce about the good ole days? Do you have questions about the writing process? And is David Bowie somehow part of the story?
Here’s your chance to put me on the hotseat. You may ask me anything you like. But if you love to read memoirs and are not a member of the fabulous, most friendliest group on Facebook, We love Memoirs, you’re out of luck. Just kidding. Here’s the link to join the chat.
Bookmark the date: Sunday, March 21, 2021. Get your questions ready and join the conversation. Make your Sunday a Fun Day! I look forward to hearing from you!
Given the current climate of event closures due to COVID-19, I thought I’d re-post this.
Ireland celebrates St. Patrick’s Day in May.
“Bollocks!” you say.
“It’s true,” I insist. “I was there.”
You see, in March of 2001, Ireland experienced its first
outbreak of foot and mouth disease since 1941. And Ireland quickly set up
measures to control the spread of this disease. As a result, many tourist
attractions and outdoor festivals were closed, including the popular St.
Patrick’s Day parade.
But my friend Chris and I felt that that spring was a
perfect time to re-visit the Emerald Isle. Tourism to the UK and Ireland was down
due to tourists being wary of exposure to the dreaded foot-and-mouth. That
meant flights were bound to be much cheaper and there would be far fewer
tourists getting in our way to view the same attractions. We were right on both
counts.
We packed in as much as we could into our trip to Ireland,
from strolling the south strand in Skerries, Co. Dublin to kissing the Blarney
Stone in Co. Cork. From listening to traditional Irish music whilst imbibing
Guinness in the sleepy but picturesque fishing town of Kinsale to exploring Cashel
Rock in Co. Tipperary. We went from admiring centuries-old Celtic crosses to scratching
our heads at Irish road signs attached haphazardly to a post with directions
written only in Gaelic!
Although we weren’t anywhere near Dublin, I suggested to Chris
that we back-track to the city to catch the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Chris is
reluctant to do so as we were well on our way to Galway on the opposite coast
at this point.
“It’s just a parade,” says she.
“We have to go!” I plead. “What are the odds of us being in Ireland to see a St. Patrick’s Day
parade ever again?
I’m able to convince her at length, and we catch the next train
to the east coast. The train station in Dublin is about a 20-minute walk to the
parade route. We still have plenty of time before the parade starts so we stop
at the real Guinness Brewery gift
shop, which just happens to be along the way, to purchase some souvenirs.
May 19 and 20, 2001 is dubbed the St. Patrick’s Day Festival
and festivities have already begun. There is music. And there are street
performers. And there are Elvis impersonators everywhere. But when the actual parade starts, we are pleasantly
surprised. This is no ordinary parade. Sure, there are horses, a few floats and
marching bands including one from New York that got to participate in two St.
Patrick Day Parades in the same year but on different continents! But, for the
most part, this parade is more like the Mardi Gras Carnival. Stilt walkers.
Colourful, colourful costumes. And even elaborate, precision-engineered, human-controlled
“pedestrian floats”.
When the parade ends, I’m anxious to partake in some pub
grub and to raise a glass of Guinness to this amazing day. Chris, not so much.
Not that she has anything against this activity, but she is worried that we might
miss the last train leaving Dublin. If we do, our plans to explore the Ring of
Kerry and the Dingle Peninsula are in danger of being delayed or even
terminated.
“You know how long it takes to get to the train station from
here and we’re already familiar with the route,” I remind her. “We have plenty
of time.”
But she will not be swayed.
“OK. You go,” I tell her. “But I’m going to find me a pub.” Darkey Kelly’s sounds like a good choice and I squeeze past the revelers to order my pub food and Guinness. Lively traditional tunes fill the air, and everyone is in a celebratory mood including two couples who are pub-hopping.
“This is so much better,” says one of the women. “We were
just at the Temple Bar and you can’t even move there.”
Wow. And I thought this place was packed! I eat my pub grub,
drink my stout and visit with my new friends while listening to traditional
Irish music. I imagine heaven to be just like this.
Two hours later, I arrive at the train station to find Chris
patiently sitting on a bench waiting for boarding call. I think the past two
hours might have been slightly more enjoyable for me than they were for her.
Just a hunch.
Do you wonder what life was like in the Seventies? Do you like to travel? Do you like to read true stories from a bygone era? Better yet, did you live in the wild and crazy Seventies? If this describes you, this book might be just what you’re looking for.
US Readers: My memoir, A Squatter In London, is only 99 cents for a short time. Grab your copy now before it goes up in price.
Given the current climate of event closures due to COVID-19, I thought I’d re-post this.
Ireland celebrates St. Patrick’s Day in May.
“Bollocks!” you say.
“It’s true,” I insist. “I was there.”
You see, in March of 2001, Ireland experienced its first
outbreak of foot and mouth disease since 1941. And Ireland quickly set up
measures to control the spread of this disease. As a result, many tourist
attractions and outdoor festivals were closed, including the popular St.
Patrick’s Day parade.
But my friend Chris and I felt that that spring was a
perfect time to re-visit the Emerald Isle. Tourism to the UK and Ireland was down
due to tourists being wary of exposure to the dreaded foot-and-mouth. That
meant flights were bound to be much cheaper and there would be far fewer
tourists getting in our way to view the same attractions. We were right on both
counts.
We packed in as much as we could into our trip to Ireland,
from strolling the south strand in Skerries, Co. Dublin to kissing the Blarney
Stone in Co. Cork. From listening to traditional Irish music whilst imbibing
Guinness in the sleepy but picturesque fishing town of Kinsale to exploring Cashel
Rock in Co. Tipperary. We went from admiring centuries-old Celtic crosses to scratching
our heads at Irish road signs attached haphazardly to a post with directions
written only in Gaelic!
Although we weren’t anywhere near Dublin, I suggested to Chris
that we back-track to the city to catch the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Chris is
reluctant to do so as we were well on our way to Galway on the opposite coast
at this point.
“It’s just a parade,” says she.
“We have to go!” I plead. “What are the odds of us being in Ireland to see a St. Patrick’s Day
parade ever again?
I’m able to convince her at length, and we catch the next train
to the east coast. The train station in Dublin is about a 20-minute walk to the
parade route. We still have plenty of time before the parade starts so we stop
at the real Guinness Brewery gift
shop, which just happens to be along the way, to purchase some souvenirs.
May 19 and 20, 2001 is dubbed the St. Patrick’s Day Festival
and festivities have already begun. There is music. And there are street
performers. And there are Elvis impersonators everywhere. But when the actual parade starts, we are pleasantly
surprised. This is no ordinary parade. Sure, there are horses, a few floats and
marching bands including one from New York that got to participate in two St.
Patrick Day Parades in the same year but on different continents! But, for the
most part, this parade is more like the Mardi Gras Carnival. Stilt walkers.
Colourful, colourful costumes. And even elaborate, precision-engineered, human-controlled
“pedestrian floats”.
When the parade ends, I’m anxious to partake in some pub
grub and to raise a glass of Guinness to this amazing day. Chris, not so much.
Not that she has anything against this activity, but she is worried that we might
miss the last train leaving Dublin. If we do, our plans to explore the Ring of
Kerry and the Dingle Peninsula are in danger of being delayed or even
terminated.
“You know how long it takes to get to the train station from
here and we’re already familiar with the route,” I remind her. “We have plenty
of time.”
But she will not be swayed.
“OK. You go,” I tell her. “But I’m going to find me a pub.” Darkey Kelly’s sounds like a good choice and I squeeze past the revelers to order my pub food and Guinness. Lively traditional tunes fill the air, and everyone is in a celebratory mood including two couples who are pub-hopping.
“This is so much better,” says one of the women. “We were
just at the Temple Bar and you can’t even move there.”
Wow. And I thought this place was packed! I eat my pub grub,
drink my stout and visit with my new friends while listening to traditional
Irish music. I imagine heaven to be just like this.
Two hours later, I arrive at the train station to find Chris
patiently sitting on a bench waiting for boarding call. I think the past two
hours might have been slightly more enjoyable for me than they were for her.
Just a hunch.
You see, in March of 2001, Ireland experienced its first
outbreak of foot and mouth disease since 1941. And Ireland quickly set up
measures to control the spread of this disease. As a result, many tourist
attractions and outdoor festivals were closed, including the popular St.
Patrick’s Day parade.
But my friend Chris and I felt that that spring was a
perfect time to re-visit the Emerald Isle. Tourism to the UK and Ireland was down
due to tourists being wary of exposure to the dreaded foot-and-mouth. That
meant flights were bound to be much cheaper and there would be far fewer
tourists getting in our way to view the same attractions. We were right on both
counts.
We packed in as much as we could into our trip to Ireland,
from strolling the south strand in Skerries, Co. Dublin to kissing the Blarney
Stone in Co. Cork. From listening to traditional Irish music whilst imbibing
Guinness in the sleepy but picturesque fishing town of Kinsale to exploring Cashel
Rock in Co. Tipperary. We went from admiring centuries-old Celtic crosses to scratching
our heads at Irish road signs attached haphazardly to a post with directions
written only in Gaelic!
Although we weren’t anywhere near Dublin, I suggested to Chris
that we back-track to the city to catch the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Chris is
reluctant to do so as we were well on our way to Galway on the opposite coast
at this point.
“It’s just a parade,” says she.
“We have to go!” I plead. “What are the odds of us being in Ireland to see a St. Patrick’s Day
parade ever again?
I’m able to convince her at length, and we catch the next train
to the east coast. The train station in Dublin is about a 20-minute walk to the
parade route. We still have plenty of time before the parade starts so we stop
at the real Guinness Brewery gift
shop, which just happens to be along the way, to purchase some souvenirs.
May 19 and 20, 2001 is dubbed the St. Patrick’s Day Festival
and festivities have already begun. There is music. And there are street
performers. And there are Elvis impersonators everywhere. But when the actual parade starts, we are pleasantly
surprised. This is no ordinary parade. Sure, there are horses, a few floats and
marching bands including one from New York that got to participate in two St.
Patrick Day Parades in the same year but on different continents! But, for the
most part, this parade is more like the Mardi Gras Carnival. Stilt walkers.
Colourful, colourful costumes. And even elaborate, precision-engineered, human-controlled
“pedestrian floats”.
When the parade ends, I’m anxious to partake in some pub
grub and to raise a glass of Guinness to this amazing day. Chris, not so much.
Not that she has anything against this activity, but she is worried that we might
miss the last train leaving Dublin. If we do, our plans to explore the Ring of
Kerry and the Dingle Peninsula are in danger of being delayed or even
terminated.
“You know how long it takes to get to the train station from
here and we’re already familiar with the route,” I remind her. “We have plenty
of time.”
But she will not be swayed.
“OK. You go,” I tell her. “But I’m going to find me a pub.” Darkey Kelly’s sounds like a good choice and I squeeze past the revelers to order my pub food and Guinness. Lively traditional tunes fill the air, and everyone is in a celebratory mood including two couples who are pub-hopping.
“This is so much better,” says one of the women. “We were
just at the Temple Bar and you can’t even move there.”
Wow. And I thought this place was packed! I eat my pub grub,
drink my stout and visit with my new friends while listening to traditional
Irish music. I imagine heaven to be just like this.
Two hours later, I arrive at the train station to find Chris
patiently sitting on a bench waiting for boarding call. I think the past two
hours might have been slightly more enjoyable for me than they were for her.
Just a hunch.
