This title would be six words long if it were seven words shorter

What a strange thing to say as you pass me on your way out.

Say something new

Carrick-A-Rede was great.

Smugglers three

Belfast Zoo was great.

Looksee

The Giant’s Causeway was great. (What is the proper apostrophisation of that, I wonder?)

Matthew atop

The sun is shining out my window.

So what was wrong? This was the first time I went to the oul motherland as, more or less, a tourist-proper. (TOURIST!, you’re the TERRIST!. © Ress 2007) And you know what? It was great. Reprise. I can see why people say that Oirland is a fine place to visit. Lovely scenery, (some) lovely people and lovely food. But then you wander through the market towns, with their scummy people and their scummy attitudes. Stick to the North Antrim coast, stick to those beautiful people whom inhabit my sidebar, and all is fine.

And I left behind the luxuriously delish Easter Egg Cassandra bought me for being, and I shouldn’t quote, a jealous cow.

The sun is shining out my window.

I won’t pick now to berate those little minded people with their narrow visions, the desperately sad and the sadly desperate, stuck in a place they can’t see for what it is worth. I won’t pick now to deride the kidults who think they know how the world works when they haven’t even left their bedroom in the past twenty-odd years. I won’t pick now, because those sorts exist here as well as there, it is just the ones from there are just so much more pathetic.

The sun is shining out my window.