On Dublin Time

I was looking through old papers and came across this silly little story I wrote many many moons ago, presumably while I was aupairing in Dublin and trying to study Irish for the Leaving Certificate (= Gymnasium in DK). I ended up not sitting for the exam, having realised that I stood absolutely zero chance of passing. Doomed project from the beginning, taking Higher Level Irish evening classes, having only a little conversational vocabulary, crap grammar and being told that I would not be allowed bring notes/text books/dictionaries into the exam. Add to that the syllabus, which included having to know what an 'aisling' was. Doomed, I tell you. Doomed. The rest of the class must've been wondering what the hell I thought I was doing, all of them being actual students in proper school, because I didn't have the first clue, and it was obvious to anyone but me. Utterly doomed. Young and very foolish, so I was....

I did write a few essays during the course, mostly using dictionaries before I knew of their going to be banned at the exam. But the last one, for which I didn't go near a dictionary or grammar book (and which ended up being all of 1.5 pages long), and which I was immensely proud of.... the teacher never gave it back to me, so I never knew which grade it got. Darn! It would've been total crap, but still.....

Anyway, this little story would've been well within my abilities to write at the time (I've forgotten a LOT), but it has a note on it saying 'Corrected', so I think I must've gone over it afterwards. It wasn't part of the coursework and my teacher never saw it, it was something I did just for fun.


I've no illusions that this is in any way interesting to you, but it's my blog, and I can show off if I want to. So there. *goes HMMF and sticks nose in air* Behold - once upon a time, I had THIS much Irish! Besides, it made me laugh to read it again, so I figured it might do the same for someone else. IF you managed to read this far that is, and not fall asleep yet out of sheer boredom.


And if you do keep reading, I have to warn you, the story is very very silly, but also very very short which counts in its favour. It was also obviously inspired by Timm & Gordon....

Scéal Gearr

Bhí cailín ann agus bhí Máire an t-ainm di. Bhí buachaill ann fósta agus bhí Pádraig an t-ainm dó. Bhí siad ina gcónaí i nGleann Cholm Cille sa Chontae Dhún na nGall. Tá áit iontach álainn í.
Bhí sé lá breá. Thaitin an ghrian sa spéir agus chuaigh siad na leanaí timpeall na háit ar á rothar. Chonaic siad cat bhán. Bhí sé ina chodladh ar thaobh an bhealaigh. D'fhan siad leis an t-éirí an chait, ach níor mhúscail sé.
'Ní mór liom a dul abhaile anois', arsa Máire. 'Mise fósta', arsa Pádraig. Agus chuaigh siad abhaile á ndinnéar a ithe le a dteaghlach. Ar maidin ní raibh an cat ann. 'Cá bhfuil an cat?', d'iarr Máire. 'Níl a fhios agam', arsa Pádraig. Chuaigh siad timpeall an ghleann ar fad ach ni raibh an cat in áit ar bith. Bhí rud iontach rúnda, shil Máire agus Pádraig. 'Tá súil agam go dté sé an cat go dtí ár dteach anocht', arsa Máire. Ach ní dheachaigh sé. Oíche mhaith agus codladh sámh!

Short Story

There was a girl, and her name was Mary. There was also a boy and his name was Patrick. They lived in Glencolumbcille in Co. Donegal. It is a very beautiful place.
It was a nice day. The sun was shining in the sky and they were riding about the place on their bicycles. They saw a white cat. It was sleeping at the side of the road. They waited for the cat to move, but it didn't wake up.
'I have to go home now', said Mary. 'Me too', said Patrick. So they went home to have dinner with their families. In the morning the cat was no longer there. 'Where is the cat?', asked Mary. 'I don't know', said Patrick. They went all around the glen but the cat was nowhere to be found. It was a very great mystery, thought Mary and Patrick. 'I hope the cat will come to our house tonight', said Mary. But it didn't. Goodnight and sleep tight!