It was a typicial Irish October morning. It was damp, dismal and drizzly, the kind that makes you turn over in your bed, snuggle deeper under the duvet and go back to sleep.
But not this morning!
I'd say the tremor in Ireland read at least 5 on the Richter Scale as the collective beeping of mobile phones got the country up at the ungodly hour of 8.15 am on a Sunday morning. And the reason for this......rugby.
I'm no expert on the game, but I was totally confused by the turn-about in our fortune this week.It was a carbon copy of our economy. One minute we were on top of the world, cruising along and even dreaming of the distinct possibility of reaching the Final.
Imagine.....Ireland in a World Cup Final.....of ANYTHING!
Next thing we were being told....
"If we dont win this, we are on the plane home!
How did that happen? Would we not even be second in our pool? It seems not.
Hence the country, including me, was up for the Ireland Vs Italy match.
I'm no George Hook...
so I've no intention of even attempting an analysis of the game. All I saw wwas
Slow first half
Celtic Tiger resurfaced for the first 12 minutes of the second half.
Handbags at dawn tactics employed by the Italians in an attempt to rile the Irish.
Don't they know we've invented that technique
WIN WIN WIN!
So now our little countey will forget for a moment about bailouts, euro-crisis and the Seven Dwarfs! In the words of Prince
We'll party like it's 1999!
Oh, and Declan Kidney for President!
And I'd like to take this opportunity to apologise to my neighbours for any screams coming from my house. No, I wasn't being murdered, just egging Tommy Bowe over the end line....which didn't count. Boo!