Baked beans and pork sausages

"I think children in sweatshops are a good idea. Small hands are good for stitching fine details."

- me, to the Concern Ireland guy campaigning against sweatshops in India

I'm not sure why I said that. Shit-stirring, I suppose. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I ran into the guy on the street, in the rain, and he had such a nice, big umbrella. Wanted to keep him talking a bit while it rained. Also, I remember Ali G doing something similar on his TV show, and you know, monkey see, monkey do. 

It got a laugh out of him, anyway. 

In Cork at the moment. Grey, industrial city in the south, on either side of the River Lee. Apparently has a rapidly escalating heroin problem, and has been likened to Edinburgh in the "Trainspotting" days. It sure feels like Edinburgh when it rains. 

First day here, I was walking to Subway when I saw a guy abusing a couple of other guys about his car. A few minutes later, I saw an ambulance speeding to where the confrontation was. When I came back, the guys, the ambulance and the car were all gone. You do get a few characters around here, I suppose. 

Second day here, I went to Blarney Castle. I climbed the tower and got grappled by an old Irish guy who dropped me down the parapet to kiss a fecking stone. Now, I'm eloquent and full of the Irish blarney. Also full of baked beans and pork sausage, which is pretty much all I can afford here in Cork.

I'm wondering if I should spend a third day here, or whether to head up to Galway. The days are slipping away, and I've only a week in Ireland before the visa runs out. There's not a lot to see here, and I'm sure there's enough rain and Guinness and craic and blarney and other quintessentially Irish charms on the west coast.