Contemporary St Paddy's Day celebrations have swung back to pre Christian influences and revolve more around the mythical movements of small, red haired larrikans, dressed in green and pointing the way toward the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The pot of gold is in fact xxxx and several inferior beer stops along the path to the bottom of the rainbow result in the served beer turning green with envy of their Australian beer peer.
Leprechauns are funny little creatures. Mythical Irish elves or faeries that occupy a magical realm somewhere between the physical and spirit world, they love their pipe, drink and solitude. 'Tis said that on occasion they become social, dance and engage in antics designed to drive the POMs to distraction
Ummm, sounds an awful lot like our honeymoon plans for Norfolk Island. We'd discussed going to Norfolk, a place neither of us has been before, but when we checked the prices we reconsidered!!!!! And then we spoke with Paul's Uncle John: a consultant for Norfolk Island. Our honeymoon pot of gold would not have happened without the discerning advise, assistance and finger pointing from that favourite uncle, John Johnson. Like a mythical faerie, John kindly waved his magic hands and organised some discounted fares and accommodation for us. YIPPPPPPPP YAHHHHHHHHH: you the leprechaun man John.
And why is he a leprechaun? He is neither red haired, 12 inches tall, dressed in ill fitting green suits, or a beer swilling larrikan. But, he is born on St Paddy's day and therefore, according to bastardised history turning back to the truth, he is leprechaun.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOHN JOHNSTON
and thank you from the bottom of our hearts
(I wish it was from the bottom of the rainbow - you'll just have to wait for us to win Lotto).
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