I've always enjoyed St. Patrick's Day, a day built around the celebration of everything Irish and much like Canada, a good excuse to have a pint or four.
This year was quite tame. Although I went to a party on Saturday, I was driving so I didn't drink.
I had an early morning meeting today so there was no way I was going to head out to a pub the night before.
I find myself, only now, not only reminicing about St. Paddy's Days of years past but also of Belfast and our time there.
One of my favourite memories of getting together with two very dear friends, Belfast A and Belfast G, usually on a spur of the moment, for a drink and a gab session.
Garrick Bar in Belfast was the perfect wee spot: (photo courtesy of flickr account)
We would tuck ourselves away into one of these corners and next thing you know, it'd be last call. And then we'd all stumble back to our respective homes, perhaps stopping for some chinese or jacket potatoes along the way.
It was great to have such cherished friends, even as the Canadian outsider, I never felt more at home then when I would sit with ma ladies and gab the night away.
I think next year, to make up for the lack of celebration over the last two years, I might just have to head back to the Garrick...or Morrisons...or the Duke of York...or Auntie Annies...or...
Well, you get the picture.
This year was quite tame. Although I went to a party on Saturday, I was driving so I didn't drink.
I had an early morning meeting today so there was no way I was going to head out to a pub the night before.
I find myself, only now, not only reminicing about St. Paddy's Days of years past but also of Belfast and our time there.
One of my favourite memories of getting together with two very dear friends, Belfast A and Belfast G, usually on a spur of the moment, for a drink and a gab session.
Garrick Bar in Belfast was the perfect wee spot: (photo courtesy of flickr account)
We would tuck ourselves away into one of these corners and next thing you know, it'd be last call. And then we'd all stumble back to our respective homes, perhaps stopping for some chinese or jacket potatoes along the way.
It was great to have such cherished friends, even as the Canadian outsider, I never felt more at home then when I would sit with ma ladies and gab the night away.
I think next year, to make up for the lack of celebration over the last two years, I might just have to head back to the Garrick...or Morrisons...or the Duke of York...or Auntie Annies...or...
Well, you get the picture.
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