patrickjegan

June 16, 2015

Reflections in a Sad Eye

The last bus stopped running an hour ago. The publican has rung the bell in the nearby pub, calling out “Time gentlemen, please.” The night‘s action is most definitely over out here in the ‘burbs of London. The streets may be quiet and the locals are at home…but it’s still light out! It’s only a…

June 14, 2015

Slán

THE CLIFFS OF DOONEEN You may travel far far from your own native home Far away oer the mountains far away oer the foam But of all the fine places that I’ve ever seen, There’s none to compare with The Cliffs of Dooneen Take a view oer the water fine sights you’ll see there You’ll…

June 13, 2015

The Silent Songs of the Burrens and the Rebel Songs of Galway

I stood at the edge of the famous Cliffs of Moher. Just a short drive from Shannon Airport, this site is one of the first stops for tourists. The last time I stood at this edge of Ireland where the Atlantic Ocean pounds silently far below us, at the base of rock faces that can…

June 9, 2015

The Swans Of The Shannon River: Limerick On A Warm Afternoon

I dropped Mariam at our hotel and drove off to find the parking lot. I made two lefts and passed two pubs, one of which was called The Sin Bin. I took note of the name. Maybe this pub had something more than pints of Guinness. I walked back to the hotel and we decided…

June 8, 2015

Crossing The Liffey: Our First And Last Full Day In Dublin’s Fair City

I was sitting opposite my wife in the restaurant of the Arlington Hotel where we are staying. It’s just steps away from the O’Connell Street Bridge. I was making strange, odd and contorted…some would say ugly faces in her direction. She simply stared back at me. My eyes watered and I continued to wiggle my…

June 8, 2015

Dublin On A Sunday Afternoon

It was a brief flight. Heathrow to Dublin airport in a little over an hour. No time for a movie. No time for any real food. I looked across Mariam’s lap and watched the fields of Wales slide under us at several hundred miles per hour. Still, when we landed and took the taxi to…

June 6, 2015

May The Sun Rise To Meet Him

On Wednesday, my son, Brian will step off the red-eye flight from JFK and the sun will rise to meet him. I will have my son, my boy, my only boy with me while we tour our ancestral island with my wife (on her first visit, too). It’s been thirty years since I’ve been…

June 6, 2015

If Hand-Hewn Beams Could Talk: A Proper English Pub

I’ll repeat what I said in a previous post: “If you want to know what is happening in an English village, just sit in the pub for an hour or two.” I am convinced that this is true. Pubs and not bars in the way we know bars in the States. If the village is…

June 4, 2015

I Never Met An English Country Church I Didn’t Like

[St. John the Baptist, Buckthorn Weston, Dorset] It’s been said by many travelers that if one wants to know what’s happening in any small English village, just go to the pub and listen for an hour. I think the same is true, to a degree, of social life provided by the Church in these towns…

May 31, 2015

68 Steps Along The Nave Of Wells Cathedral

Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, I was climbing the endless steps of Sacre Coeur in Paris. My wife was at my side. We paused on the 67th step, and, in the warm Parisian sun, we turned and looked back at the City of Lights. We kissed on that 67th step. It was my 67th…