Now that we’re getting to know people a little bit better, I feel like we are having more and more real conversations. Sharon, our neighbor, told me this great story the other day.
When she was about 7, one of the cattle died while her grandad was watching her. So they had to take it to the crematorium in Sligo (hours away). “My grandad not having a car, he had to go in the 2-seater van with my uncle. Me being a child, I couldn’t be left alone.” So she had to sit in the back of the van with the dead calf. “I actually had to sit on top of it, there wasn’t much room.” I asked why she couldn’t sit up front on her grandad’s lap. She said they were driving from Roscommon to Sligo, it’s far, and if the Garda stopped them they’d get in trouble. (Having a kid sitting on a dead cow in the back of a van is illegal, as well, but less likely to be discovered.) But they got her ice cream afterwards for being good. (Her uncle said, “I’m guessing you don’t want a burger now.”)
The funny part is that she’s a vegetarian now. “That’s rural Ireland for ya,” she said with a shrug.