For four years he saved up his change. For a trip to Tipperary.
After the four years he counted his luck and had £300.
Hitching to Hollyhead saved £46 and he smiled as he stuck it to the man.
Ireland wasn’t cheap, his budget was heading south with his personal hygiene.
Finally though after four years he arrived on his beach, the Irish beach of his dreams.
He sat for a while and as time passed so did an old lady wrapped with shawl of scrim who stopped and said.
“Are yall right you big bollox ya?”
Feeling privileged to talk to a way of life he longed for he smiled.
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“Oh I fine as well would you let me cook some food for a weary traveler, my Feckin cottage is there be Jesus.”
“Oh are you sure,” he said feeling at one with the blarney. “That would lovely.”
He followed the lady to her cottage and sat by the fire as she cooked away and as he warmed he cherished his moment until after finally eating and full with Irish cheer he said his goodbyes.
He turned at the door and the old lady faced him and said.
“That’ll be £15 then you fecker x