Hot Footing Around the Emerald Isle [Paperback]

Ian has a great and irreverent turn of phrase, a witty irony and an artist's eye for detail.

Ian's sharp and slightly sarcastic sense of humour makes this book a treasure of hilarious anecdotes and unusual characters.

A unique and witty perspective on touring around Ireland from a proven English travel writer.

Hot Footing Around the Emerald Isle is one of the most vivid, forthright and replenishing books you will read this year.

It had me laughing in the most ridiculous situations where I shouldn't have been laughing.

Ian reserves some of his best, and funniest writing for the characters he meets along the way

Another trusty good read/bible for the backpacker to stuff into his rucksack before heading off for the hills.

The book is a good light-hearted read that gives an insight into what the stranger thinks of us up here in the north west.

Ian was more than a little apprehensive when his turn came to kiss the Blarney Stone. Not only had they just met, but it seemed this stone wasn’t at all fussy as to who it allowed to kiss it. Kissing the Blarney Stone is Ireland’s third most popular tourist attraction, so as well as the moral implications there were the hygienic implications too. Yet kissing the Blarney Stone is reputed to bestow upon you the Irish gift of the gab, a talent Ian would need if he was to seduce the Sisters of Murphy’s; assuming he ever finds them.

This was just the first obstacle Ian had to cross during his two-month journey around the Emerald Isle. With just a backpack as a home, a guidebook in one hand, a bizarre travelogue in the other and very little money in his bank account, he leaves his home and sets off to this little country that has always been his neighbour, yet overlooked by him for many years as he pursued dreams to travel to far and exotic countries.

But to Ian’s surprise he was to find that he didn’t need to travel thousands of miles across the world to discover something new and exciting. As he busses, hitches and walks his way from Cork to Donegal via the West Coast Ian discovers the wonderful spirit and friendliness of the Irish people. During this time he conceives a plan to be a real backpacker for a day by hiking from one town to another with the full weight of his backpack, but finds things aren’t as straightforward as they might have seemed. Although travelling alone, he is rarely on his own as he meets up with various interesting and amusing characters along the way, until finally reaching the quiet and unspoilt shores of northern Donegal. Here he must cross a tumultuous ocean on a small boat in order to meet the King of Ireland, on the barren and windswept Tory Island.

After the misguided purchase of a very cheap pair of boots in Dublin on his way back Ian’s already sore feet are rendered too painful to walk on any more, so he decides to search for a nice comfortable backpackers hostel in which to rest them for a while. As he ventures into the Sunny Southeast he eventually settles for Kirwan House in Wexford Town, and finds that this wonderful little town has more to offer than just being the sunniest place in Ireland.

A Load of Blarney

Blarney village is situated about eight kilometres north-west of Cork. The main attraction is the kissing of the Blarney Stone. Blarney Castle was built on solid limestone way back in 1446. Situated at the top of this castle is the fabled Blarney Stone. Kissing this stone is reputed to give you the gift of the gab, or talk blarney as the term goes. Queen Elizabeth I invented the term because of Lord Blarney’s ability to talk endlessly for hours without ever actually agreeing to her demands. Apparently his eloquent excuses for not surrendering himself and his land to her were so frequent and actually plausible that the queen declared his waffle a load of Blarney. It seems ironic that a well-known Irish expression was actually invented, not just by an Englishwoman, but by the English Queen who wreaked havoc on the country for years.

The castle is surrounded by some large and very beautiful gardens. As we wandered through these gardens on the way to the castle, it started to rain. This triggered the realisation that I had forgotten to pack the most important thing for this trip, a raincoat. How could I have been so stupid? I was about to go travelling in a country well known for its wet weather and I hadn’t brought a raincoat with me. As Shannon and Heather put on theirs, I darted for cover.

The stone is extremely popular and is actually Ireland’s third most popular tourist attraction. Thus there was a long queue of people waiting for their turn to smooch it. The queue stretched from the very top of the castle, six stories up, down a narrow spiral staircase and out the entrance. It was going to be a long wait.

Once we reached the top we were able to watch the kissing process. In the old days people who kissed the Blarney Stone were hung by their heels over the edge of the parapet. One day a pilgrim broke from the grasp of his friends and went hurtling downward to certain death. Nowadays bars are fitted to the inside of the parapet for the kisser to hold on to and thus be saved from the risk of falling down through the gap. Each person has to lie on his or her back and bend backward over a large gap on the inside edge of the parapet, which represents this sheer drop to the grounds below. However, this is obviously not considered safe enough. To further ensure the kisser’s safety an assistant is provided. His job is to hold you by the waist as you bend over. Interesting job! It must make an amusing topic of conversation in the pub at night:

‘So, what did you do today?’

‘Well, I spent the day holding people’s waists as they bent over backwards to kiss a stone.’

‘Ah go on Seamus, now ye really ought ta stop these afternoon drinking sessions.’

It’s not exactly the most romantic of jobs. Or is it? I suppose it depends on whose legs he’s holding. I wondered if this one man was solely employed for this purpose, or whether the job was rotated among the park’s staff?

Finally our turn came and each of us opted to take photos of this momentous occasion. I took one of Heather, then lay down myself, bent backwards, grabbed the two bars behind me and tried not to look down. The blood rushed to my head as I stared at the smooth surface of the one stone set among other more rugged stones. I guess this is the Blarney Stone then, I thought. So what sort of kiss am I supposed to bestow upon this magical stone in order to be blessed with its magical powers? Do I just give it a peck, use a bit of tongue, or go for the full-blown Frenchy? It was a decision I would have to make very quickly, lest my assistant got bored and loosened his grip; or found something more interesting to look at. I figured this job didn’t do much towards improving his attention span.

No one actually knows exactly where this stone came from. There are various legends, but no real facts. It could have come from anywhere, and been anywhere come to think of it. But legend has it that if you kiss this stone you will be granted the gift of eloquence and inherit the ability to talk Blarney. I had read an article on the Internet stating that over the years the term Blarney has come to mean, ‘The ability to influence and coax with fair words and soft speech without giving offence’

In the interests of decorum I decided to stick to a normal kiss, without tongue. After all, there was a crowd of people watching. Suddenly I realised that this was possibly not the healthiest thing I have ever done in my life: to kiss a stone to whom I hadn’t even been introduced. And, come to think of it, to kiss a stone who has been kissed by thousands of other people: men, women and children alike. I would at least have preferred to get to know the stone better, taken it out for a drink first perhaps. But unfortunately for me there was no time allowed for a courtship ritual, so I had to dive straight in there and kiss this cold stone that was already dripping with the saliva of many before me. As I sat back up and allowed the blood to rush back to where it came from, I felt cheap, and extremely dizzy.