These are my last few moments in Ireland, and I spend them in the airport writing to you, my droogies. Show some gratitude!
I capped off my trip with beers with my old friend John, who ironically was also spending his last night in Ireland, after being posted here for four years. So it’s a bigger event for him than for me. We imbibed those beers (well, beer, because the plural of beer is beer; elliptical sentences and all that) in a place called McGowan’s Pub, which was up the street from my residence. Continue reading With Or Without Ewe→
There is a world famous epidemiologist named David Moher, who used to be my boss 16 years ago when I first moved to Ottawa. Here I am taking liberties with his personage:
How is this relevant to today’s post? Well I will tell you, my droogies. Yesterday I undertook a day-long trip from Galway to the Aran Islands, culminating in stroll atop the Cliffs of Moher. Get it? Moher? Continue reading Faut Que J’Moove→
Greetings from onboard a shuttle bus taking me back to Killarney from Killorglan. No those aren’t Klingon swear words, but ancient towns in Western Ireland. I’ve just spent the day experiencing the 400 year old “Puck Fair”, which is a quaint rural tradition wherein a male mountain goat is abducted from his perch and crowned King Puck for the 3-day duration of the fair. Continue reading 52, You Goat Puckers→