Irish Senate

Above, if I can figure this thing out, they are a bunch of geniuses. The nicest  thing about each is that they know nearly everything all by themselves just by waking up, and if that isn't good enough, they enjoy a near miraculous process of osmosis that comes on in a particularly excitable and shakeable state in the most watery country on earth -- what they don't think they fully know one minute ago they will be quite certain they have exhausted every last bit of knowledge about  as they sip quietly for perhaps 30 to 60 seconds further. One of the best things about moving to Ireland in mid-life is that you are nearly assured of being surrounded by geniuses. They will come into your house for coffee when you are painting your kitchen, and watch you closely. They will notice the size of your brush and they will compliment you upon your taste in paint colour, while asking nonchalantly whether your wife maybe had a thing to do with that expert choice.

If you do not personally stir the milk and often revolting amounts of sugar into their cups promptly, they will say nothing, but perhaps begin to squint. Soon they will be out on the streets, talking with the corner boys, and eventually in the pubs. Then the wrong size of your paint brush will come to life as a "hot topic" -- because of course it reveals the deepest flaws in your judgement in moving to Ireland in mid life and daruing to say too many words about the boyos.

But examine this photo closely, and you will see what the world loves about the Irish. They are spontaneous and they can warm almost faster than they can chill. There are lovely men hunkered in around this table -- Shocks (in teeth) who is just called "Shocks" for no reason I know, Tom the ancient mariner (in blue) who has sailed every sea as a first mate on giant merchant marine vessels but also as a bo'sun on three-masted schooners, Hugh McPhillips, the property auctioneer friend of mine who introduced the gala, and is friends with "Champagne Gerry" who made a killing off the boom and generously celebrated the launch of Jaywalking with the Irish in his Boqueria, Barcelona-styled pub this night. My friend Peter Harding was standing on top of the bar snapping pictures wildly. Brother Karl was responding as if he was demeneted. Oh what a night.

You don't get these nights in Waterbury, Connecticut, USA, where I am from.  And even if I "wind them up," I love these people, and that's the truth.