| Drinking is, of course, the Irish national pastime and many is the hour I spent in a pub, grimacing over a pint of Guinness.
Personally, I find drinking a Guinness is a similar experience to eating a bucket of soil. There’s a saying that “even if you don’t like Guinness you should try it in Ireland because it’s better”. It certainly must be one of the only drinks in the world that you can eat with a knife and fork.
I have been informed by reliable sources, that the best way to ingest Guinness is to get a mortar and pestle, grind the bastard up and inhale it.
The great thing about Irish pubs is that they are so crowded, that you can get as drunk as you like and will be unlikely to have room to move, let alone stagger or fall over.
Once out of Dublin, things become a little quieter; especially when you come to the barren stretch of land known as “the Burren”.
During the 17th century, Oliver Cromwell’s surveyors described this area as having “neither water enough to drown a man, nor a tree to hang him, nor soil enough to bury him.”
Believe me, after two weeks in the Burren, you will severely regret that the above facilities are missing. |
