Day 62 Lá Foirfe hÉireann

To have a lá foirfe hÉireann (perfect Irish day) you will first get up early in the morning, before anyone else. And you will drink strong black coffee and watch the meth addled chimpanzee spin the weather roulette wheel: fog, sun, cloud, rain, sun and you will rush out each time it says "sun" and you will walk to the sea and marvel at the green cushions of grass on the high clifftops and the great waves gnawing at them. And you will be agreeable when your family suggests that it would be good to get on a small boat and be taken out in the swell and chop to see a famous dolphin named Fungi. And you will be amused by this. Mildly. But you will be far more amused by the pub that is also a hardware store. You will be especially amused because you are there alone while the family is elsewhere feeding on ice cream and fried things. Alone except for the redfaced old Irishmen discussing Gerry Adams and Margaret Thatcher as if they have stepped out of a time machine. And alone except for the shelves of rubber boots and the shelves of fine Irish whiskies. And you will have one, two, three of these fine Irish whiskies and your amusement will increase proportionately. Maybe the pub is the time machine. And then you will somehow find your family again and together will go to a smooth hard beach so large you could run horses there. No horses are running there that day, but the point is that you could and you are impressed. And you now also notice that today the unpronounceable mountain is no longer being tickled by mist so you allow yourself to be driven home where you can equip yourself with a wool cap and a can of Tom Crean's fresh Irish lager. And then you climb it, this time without the disappearing families in shortpants and without your brave girl child. And you will find the summit cheekflapping windy but clear and astonishing. And you will be pleased for your wool cap and for your can of Tom Crean's fresh Irish lager. And then you will notice that the name of the mountain is no longer unpronounceable to you. And somehow you will descend and somehow you will build a peat fire in the fireplace of the cottage and enjoy the sharp tang of the peat smoke. And you will see the sun slide into the wild Atlantic as small rain squalls race in, producing rainbows. You will find this improbable but it is undeniable. And you will declare it to have been lá foirfe hÉireann.