I was going to talk about Pearse and Russian revolutionaries, but not today, apparently, and certainly not until I’ve had my afternoon pizza. There’s been a street parade in Moscow on Novy Arbat on every St. Patrick’s since 1994 or so, but I’ve always been late for the green beer at the Shamrock bar: the stock never lasts until later than 3 pm. The same problem in the only Irish bar I visited in Great Ireland Across the Sea: they had run out of green nectar by the moment the happy couple entered the bar. The barman looked at us with a mix of contempt and pity: “now they’re going to order Bud Light, idiots,” but lightened up when we asked for a Kilkenny.
Oh, and don’t forget to stop by PF‘s.