Anyone over 35 there? Third edition



That is what is known as the craìc. You’ll often hear people asking, “What’s the craìc like there?” To find it if a place is good to go to. It does sometimes confuse non-Irish, who wonder what we’re looking for.


There are pubs in Galway City where the craic was grand.

The conversation was swift, and they actually laughed at some of my jokes. Around here, they draw puzzled looks.


Obviously the people your end of the world have had too little to drink. Or too much. Whatever - they haven’t had the right amount to be properly sociable.


We lived in a house that looked a bit like this with a butt of a donkey in the field that used to hunt with the big guys, only he liked running me into the trees at the end of the hill. Lovely memories. We had so many flowers and trees there. Texas is a desert compared to it with its watered patches of lawn and cedar trees.


I live in Nevada so I knows desert…


Where I grew up is architecturally more like @EmmaKatSpector’s picture. But, as you go out from the centre of town you go through Victorian, to Art Deco, interwar and, finally, suburban sprawl.


Where in Nevada?


I wonder if the cottage in the photo used to have a thatch roof? I associate those rounded dormers with thatch roofs.


I don’t think so. They were designed by a Russian architect and built in the '70s, I think, with the wood tiles.


You have no idea what I’d give to be able to visit a pub in Galway City: that’s Andrew O’Connell’s home county, and I desperately need to listen to the sound, especially before the audiobook. I don’t think I can make the trip unless it’s by Facetime or Skype. If you ever get back, may I just have a live feed, pretty please?


You embarrassed the poor baby. I’m not impressed by his machismo.


But I can’t see you whining about anything except maybe the school. That’s the difference, the complaining. I try, with my extremely limited mental and physical resources, to do the best I can - and enjoy the most I can.


Speaking of Irish accents, if you ever want to hear mine, I have a bajillion freebie codes for an audio book I read for an author called Fairytale Christmas.
Message me if you’d like one.


North Las Vegas.


Right. I have a cousin who lives northwest of the city, off the Mt. Charleston road. I used to hit her up for a shower after camping out in Pine Creek Canyon (near Redrocks) to climb. Really striking mountains and high desert landscape.


Do you find that you have to ‘switch on’ your accent, or have you been lucky enough to keep it? Mine has almost vanished after 30 years away, but it does return after a few whiskies or when I feel stressed.


If you watch Jack Taylor, a telly mystery series set in Galway (with Iain Glen), you’ll see scenes in the Crane Bar, which is his favourite haunt. I went in the evening, for the music (and the craic).

Another favourite spot is a café, Kai (Mäori for food) which is run by Kiwis, and has wonderful seafood and lamb, and New Zealand wines.

I started chatting to the server, who invited me to the kitchen to meet the owner. She said if I ever want to move to Galway City, she’d give me work and a place to stay. Tempting.


My sister in law is a Scot. Her family moved to Canada when she was 15. I’ve known her for 30+ years and her ‘Canadian diction’ is the same as everyone here. Unless you are aware she’s from Scotland you’d never know. I’ve only seen her angry once and her Scot accent showed through the very short event.

Her brother on the other hand is 2 years younger than her. I can barely understand him at times as I think he used the Scot/Gaelic accent to attract attention.


It is pretty up there. I live close to Nellis AFB now. It’s a short drive to school now for me.


When I moved to England (university and employment), having an Irish accent was not exactly popular. I would regularly get stopped by the security at ports to spend an hour answering questions. I fit the profile - young, male, single traveller, going between Belfast and Liverpool. That sort of thing. In acts of petty revenge, I would put my dirty washing on the top layer of my packing.

I digress.

My natural accent should be a soft Belfast/North Down one. I can speak pure Bel-faws when I want to, thanks to my grandmother. Add in my tendency towards Ulster-Scots, and apparently it can be rather intimidating. Or so I’m told. There was only one person at work who could pick up on my accent, and she came from around Divis (a part of Belfast).

“Belfast man?” she asked.

“Aye,” I said. “Born there.”

“Thought as much. South?”

“Malone Road.”

‘That explains it.”

For those who want to hear an example of what I can sound like, go to YouTube and search for “Give My Head Peace” or “Colin and Patrick, the Northern Irish Daleks”.