dedalus Posted April 10, 2011 Share Posted April 10, 2011 (edited) An Chuairt Taidhleoireachta na Conchubair mac Airt Aisteach go raibh sí agus contúirteacha, bean le fear éigin eile. I have a strong dislike for boats and the sea, bare planks between your soul and perdition, with wind and the rain adding to the sorrow. Hours and hours we spent on the ocean with the cattle moaning in childlike fear below, and myself moaning likewise above them before we came to Bristol, a town of the English, a marvellous great city of well-dressed people very happy and pleased with themselves. We had horses to hire for the road to London on the further side of the kingdom; we stayed at villainous flea-ridden inns along that weary road. London, my dear, makes Dublin look like a village with all its tall houses pushed together, leaning on one another, its sights and sounds and smells. We came to the court, at a place called Hampton, a sturdy stone palace by the side of the river, and there the Queen came out to meet us. She is a frail looking woman of middle years, very white in the face and enormously prepared in her dress and visage to meet the day. Very grand did she look but quite kind withal as her courtiers clucked and fussed around her. We were asked to leave our swords and axes behind. The discussion was long and polite but wearisome. These people do not understand us; I think we need to prepare ourselves for the coming war. Edited April 13, 2011 by dedalus Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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