Did this title give you a sinking feeling? Not to worry, plenty of good things to come…
Finn McCool, a giant among Irishmen, never bested in a fight, thought himself invincible. Then he saw the Scottish giant Benandonner charging down the causeway with blood in his eye, and he shivered in fear.
There is a town in Northern Ireland that has an identity crisis. It doesn’t know whether to call itself Derry or Londonderry. But why?
Does this picture give you a sort of fuzzy deja vu?
The chill wind blew in off the North Sea, pushing in clouds and rain showers, and most tourists off the beach. Their loss, the skies were full of drama.
Clip, clop, clip, clop. The horse’s hooves beat a rhythm on the road, swaying the cart from side to side as we bounced along the ruts of the muddy road. On one side of the road, a brook meandered along, on the other, a red deer. And this was just part of the day’s jaunting around.
Hanging upside down and backward, 90 feet of open air beneath my head, I wondered how I would get out of this one.
At first cut, the idea of combining fine leaded glass crystal and Vikings doesn’t make a lot of sense. What good is a Viking with a glass jaw?
The Barmaid set the pint of Guinness stout in front of me, tiny tan bubbles of nitrogen still cascading upward through its dark brown liquid. The last time I’d tasted one, almost 40 years earlier, I thought it vile. Dreading strong, coffee-like flavors, I feared the pending attack on my taste buds.
Is there a heaven for stallions? I think I may have found it.