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It will be a tragedy if I go to my grave without having set foot in Donegal

Bill Linnane


Bill Linnane's sudden love for Ireland is built on a foundation of meanness

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Rossnowlagh beach in Co Donegal (PA)

Rossnowlagh beach in Co Donegal (PA)

PA Wire/PA Images

Bill Linanne

Bill Linanne

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Rossnowlagh beach in Co Donegal (PA)

The time has come to plan where we are not going on holidays, and this year we are spoiled for choice. A certain virus has meant that I am able to legitimately tell my kids that we can't go overseas this year because of something other than my inability to earn a crust. Sorry kids, I had planned on all of us traversing the ancient Silk Road from China to Italy but sadly this darn plague means we will simply have to enjoy a cold wet Irish summer. Ah well.

Last year's jaunt to Spain set a high bar and I am worried that they might think that trips overseas are something that happen on an annual basis, so best to end that fantasy right now in case they get notions. Also, I am at the point in life where I am starting to realise that I don't really know Ireland.

I have a friend who worked as an electrical contractor for many years and he went where the work was, which in the mid-to-late Noughties meant he went everywhere. Any time there is an incident of note in some previously unknown hamlet, borough or barony that only exists on maps from the 1700s, he will have spent a week there in 2007, and will be able to tell you where to find the best carvery, the cleanest B&B, and the fastest route from there to east Cork on a Friday afternoon. I, on the other hand, would struggle to find my own house on Google Maps.