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What
is it about the Irish that hypnotises us to join in their
fun? At the 2002 Ryder Cup, the vision of Padraig Harrington,
Darren Clarke and Paul McGinley all draped in their flag,
overflowing with joy, made us all wish we came from the
land of the little green men. Irish character and resilience
is surely partly moulded by the unpredictability of their
weather, which involves regular doses of the wet stuff (hence
lush fairways). Irish humour is always close to the edge,
and expressions like “the mad Irish” remind
visitors that it doesn’t take much to push things
over into the bottom of a Guinness or peat-whafting whiskey
glass.
Driving through towns such as Tipperary in Limerick, the
wall-to-wall pubs – O’Shanks, Flubbedigins,
Yipperty’s, Hook O’Slice – provide biblical-sized
temptation, with the result that you either drink none of
the hard stuff or you need the constitution of a concrete
elephant. Either way you can’t win.
When they’re not celebrating or commiserating with
old and new friends, the ‘Micks’ are making
money. Dublin is buzzing; Galway, on the West Coast, is
a happening place; Limerick has a funky new arts centre;
and Cork, down on the bottom, is not exactly quiet and retiring.
But it is the Dublin area that is noticeably awash with
euros and building signs “funded by the European Commission
for...” that emphasize that the canny Irish have tapped
into that pot of golf and their rainbow is well under construction.
As with many places, the best way to get a feel is to drive
on their roads. Yes there are motorways, but try driving
this route in four days and staying sane: Shannon (bottom
left)-Tipperary (bottom middle)-Dublin-Kilkenny (bottom
right)-Dublin-Tipperary-Dublin. That’s three rounds
of golf, two hacks by horse, three swims and a spa. Think
of St Andrews#’ greens. Those large humps known as
“buried elephants” are a regular tarmac feature.
At least, the avoiding of tyre-bursting and clashing with
dubious drivers keeps the adrenalin flowing all the way
to the first tee, and where better to begin our Irish jig
than 40 minutes south of Dublin Airport with a little breakfast
at the K Club.
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