The journal of Paul M. Watson.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Irish

I am sitting in the living room reading email and sipping a cup of tea as an Irish T.V. channel murmurs in the background. Every now and then I look up in surprise as my ears grasp onto a word or two that I think I understand. I don't, of course, but it feels so close. Occasionally the characters on T.V. switch to English and with their thick Irish accents the change in sound is slight. It seems to move from one side of the understanding line to the other rather than a full switch in language.

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