The Pull of Hibernia.

I wonder why I’ve been getting visits from Ireland today. Ireland is a magnetic sort of place, a land of hard edges and soft hearts – washed by the wild Atlantic, warmed by the dark stout of Dublin, and floating on the impenetrable clouds of ancient mystery. My male ancestors came from Ireland; I used to dream about it as a kid.

And this is one of those late night posts which write themselves while I’m not looking. I might not even remember typing it in the morning.