deep green

 The visit to the pub in the foothills of the Dublin Mountains yesterday was a disaster. It was filled with the loud voices of men shouting at each other, there was a constant jostle and shove. People at their tables were cramped. Service people arrived and started talking. leaving no doubt that they felt they had better things to do. The food was simple but replete with names in the style of some grande cuisine.

The waitress arrived and slapped a pile of menus onto the table, mumbled and turned her back. After a while she returned, took her orders and vanished again. 

Conversation was not possible because of the noise of the people shouting at each other at the bar and the neighbouring tables.

A plate was thrown down on the table, then another and yet another. There was a minimal inquiry as to who had ordered what. After a short wait the fourth plate arrived and was slapped down before the son. His food was vegetarian, in this land of carnivores it took longer.

The fish and chips were tasteless.

Coaches arrived outside, and disgorged small crowds of people. They were all coming to view an Irish dance event upstairs.

That evening took the car to the Dublin mountains with the son, and enjoyed the view as the sun set. The mountains are as silent and grave as ever.

Listen to the rain in the dark this morning. It is raining in Ireland, this is not unusual at all. That is the explanation for the deep green vegetation.