Cows in the morning, one two three
"You'll have to be closin' your gate now, just so as you know. Cows comin' down in abou' an half hour." This from the man who'd just pulled the kitchen window open and stuck his head in. And before breakfast, no less.
"Excuse me?" I said, trying to place the face, but failing. Mid-forties, dark shaggy hair, slim, ruddy skin from wind and sun. Not a local accent, from farther west. No bells ringing, not even cracked ones.
"Ah, ye're not the Da. Sorry. Tell the Da he'll have to be closin' the gate. Cows. Must get along." He ducked back out, then paused and stuck his head back in. "Are ye the quare fella now or the other one?"
I thought for a second, then said "The quare one."
"Tha's right, the chair an' all." He paused for a moment, and looked around the kitchen. "The French lad is back up at the farm above now, if ye'd be goin' out for a drink like." Having delivered this message that I was clearly supposed to understand, he ducked back out again, and strolled up the drive out onto the road, taking a swipe at some fennel heads as he went. He was gone before I realized who he was talking about, and I was still laughing about it five minutes later.
Matchmaking, Irish country style.
"Excuse me?" I said, trying to place the face, but failing. Mid-forties, dark shaggy hair, slim, ruddy skin from wind and sun. Not a local accent, from farther west. No bells ringing, not even cracked ones.
"Ah, ye're not the Da. Sorry. Tell the Da he'll have to be closin' the gate. Cows. Must get along." He ducked back out, then paused and stuck his head back in. "Are ye the quare fella now or the other one?"
I thought for a second, then said "The quare one."
"Tha's right, the chair an' all." He paused for a moment, and looked around the kitchen. "The French lad is back up at the farm above now, if ye'd be goin' out for a drink like." Having delivered this message that I was clearly supposed to understand, he ducked back out again, and strolled up the drive out onto the road, taking a swipe at some fennel heads as he went. He was gone before I realized who he was talking about, and I was still laughing about it five minutes later.
Matchmaking, Irish country style.