In a frenzy of unconscious patriotism, I stayed up late knitting little Irelands – as you do.
As with a lot of my work I made three and then stopped. I make up the pattern as I go and I think that by doing it three times I embed it in my brain. Yes, I know I could just write it down but I prefer the thrice tried method.
Apart from Italy of course, Ireland is an extremely knittable island and just cries out (to me) to hung from a keychain. Glad I’m not Indonesian in that respect.
Looking at the map, I have always had the strong impression of Ireland as a tubby little bear, sitting aloof, with his back to Europe, with Lough Neagh for an imploring eye westward, arms outstretched – whining “ Help America, help. Big Bad England’s kicking me up the arse.
So – now the only question left and it’s an age old one – How much is the Auld Sod worth? What price the multiple Mother Mother Eireanns? Oh, Roisin Dubh – do I even put a price on you or do I auction you off to the highest bidder? – well if NAMA can, I can.