‘Where’s the eye hospital?’ shouted pretty much everyone standing outside a building signposted eye hospital in Irish.
‘An tAonad Oftailmeolaiochta’ read the sign on the brand new building and then in much smaller letters underneath ‘Opthalmology’, which is one of those English words that twists the tongue and isn’t much easier.
Good for the Irish, I say, because even though I don’t speak it, I respect the fact they are trying to preserve their own language and identity. In any case, let’s say I did mind, what has it to do with me? I’ve only just got here.
There is a funny sort of person who goes to live abroad and instantly demands the place adapts to them. The builder boyfriend was fixing a roof when the English gardener of the lady he was working for started expressing his contempt at the local horse fair which was happening that weekend.
‘They’ve had a lot of trouble,’ he said, making a face.
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